How could that be?
If she couldn't speak?
No matter.
She could write.
As he looked down at her, Morse realised that even in terminal illness Julia Stevens would ever be an attracl Woman; and he placed a hand'lightly on her fight arm she lay in her short-sleeved nightdress, and smiled at And she smiled back, but tightly, for she was willing self to make him understand what so desperately she wished to tell him.
At the scene of the terrible murder that had taken place in Brenda's front room, when she, Julia, had stood there, helpless at first, a spectator of a deed already done, she had vowed, if ever need arose, to take all guilt upon herself.
And the words were in her mind: words that were all un-tree, but words that were ready to be spoken. She had only to repeat repeat repeat them to herself: 'I murdered him I murdered him I murdered him.... 'And now she looked up at Morse and forced her mouth to speak those selfsame words: 'One thousand and three, one thousand and four, one thousand and five...'
Aware, it seemed, even as she spoke, of her calamitous shortcomings, she looked around her with frenzied exasper-ation as she sought to find the pencil with which earlier she'd managed to write down 'MORSE.' Her right arm flailed about her wildly, knocking over a glass of orange juice on the bedside table, and tears of frustration sprang in her eyes.
Suddenly three nurses, all in white, were at her side, two of them seeking to hold her still as the third administered a further sedative. And Morse, who had intended to plant a tender kiss upon the Titian hair, was hurriedly ushered away.
Chapter Sixty-seven
We can prove whatever we want to; the only real difficulty is to know what we want to prove (EMILE CHARTIER, Syst&me des beaux arts)
Events were now moving quickly towards their close. The was much that was wanting to be found--was found-although Lewis was not alone in wondering exactly wk Morse himself wanted to be found. Certainly one or tv minor surprises were still in store; but in essence it w only the corroborative, substantiating detail that remained be gleaned--was gleaned--by the enquiry team from thc painstaking forensic investigations, and from one or t further painful encounters.
Morse was reading a story when just after 3 e.M. C Tuesday, October 4, Lewis returned from the JR2 where t had interviewed a rapidly improving Costyn--to whom, it happened, he had taken an instant dislike, just as earli, in the case Morse had felt an instinctive antipathy towar Ms. Smith.
Lewis had learned nothing of any substance. About ti ram-raid, Costyn had been perkily co-operative, partly r doubt because he had little option in the matter. But abo any (surely most probable?) visit to the Pitt Rivers M seum; about his relations (relationship?) with Mrs. Steven about any (possible?) knowledge of, implication in, c, operation with, the murder of Edward Brooks, Costyn h been cockily dismissive.
He had nothing to say.
How could he have anything to say?
He knew nothing.
If Lewis was ninety-five per cent convinced that Costyn was lying, he had been one hundred per cent convinced that Ashley Davies, whom he'd interviewed the day before, could never have been responsible for the prising open of Cabinet 52. In fact Davies had been in Oxford that after-noon; and for some considerable while, since between 3:45 P.M. and 4:45 P.M. he had been sitting in the chair of Mr. J.
Balaguer-Morris, a distinguished and unimpeachable dental surgeon practising in Summertown.
Quod erat demonstrandum.
Lewis sensed therefore (as he knew Morse did) that the two young men had probably always been peripheral to the crime in any case. But someone had gone along to the Pitt Rivers; someone services could well have been needed for the disposal of the body in the Isis. For although Brooks had not been a heavy man, it would have been quite ex-traordinarily difficult for one woman to have coped alone; rather easier for two, certainly; and perhaps not all that dif-ficult for three of them. Yet the help of a strong young man would have been a godsend, surely?
With the Magistrates finding no objections, the three search warrants had been immediately authorised, and the spotlight was now refocusing, ever more closely, on the three women in the case: Brenda Brooks Julia Stevens Eleanor Smith...
The previous afternoon, great activity at the Brookses' res idence had proved dramatically productive. At the back c,? the house, one of the small keys from Lewis's bunch had provided immediate, unforced access to the garden shed. No transparent plastic bags were found them; nor an! damning snippet of dark green garden-twine like that whic: had secured the bundle of the corpse. Yet something ha been found there: fibres of a brown material which looke: most suspiciously similar--which later proved to b identical--to the carpeting that had covered the body of Edward Brooks.
Brenda Brooks, therefore, had been taken in for questioning the previous evening, on two separate occasions being politely reminded that anything she said might be taken down in writing and used as evidence. But there seemed hardly any valid reason for even one such caution, since from the very start she had appeared too shocked to say anything at all. Later in the evening she had been released on police bail, having been formally charged with conspir-acy to murder. As Morse saw things the decision to grant bail had been wholly correct. There was surely little merit in pressing for custody, since it was difficult to envisage that gentle little lady, once freed, indulging in any orgy of murder in the area of the Thames Valley Police Authority. In any case, Morse liked Mrs. Brooks.
Just as he liked Mrs. Stevens--in whose garage earlier that same day a forensic team had made an equally dra-matic finding, when they had examined the ancient Volvo, in situ, and discovered, in the boot, fibres of a brown ma-terial which looked most suspiciously similar--which later proved to be identical to the carpeting that had covered the body of Edward Brooks....
Morse had nodded to himself with satisfaction on receiving each of these reports. So careful, so clever, they'd been---the two women! Yet even the cleverest of crimi-nals couldn't think of everything: they all made that one little mistake, sooner or later; and he should be glad of that.
