Inspector Morse 12 Death is Now My Neighbour

WHEN LEWIS RETURNED from his encounter with the media, Morse was almost ready to leave the murder- house. The morning had moved towards noon, and he knew that he might be thinking a litde more clearly if he were drinking a litde - or at least be starting to think when he started to drink.

'Is there a real-ale pub somewhere near?' Lewis, pleasandy gratified with his handling of die Press and TV, was emboldened to sound a note of caution.

'Doesn't do your liver much good - all tiiis drinking.' Surprisingly Morse appeared to accept die reminder widi modest grace.

'I'm sure you're i ight; but my medical advisers have warned me it may veil be unwise to give up alcohol at my age.'

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Lewis was not impressed, for he had heard the same words - exactly the same words - on several previous occasions.

'You've had a good look around, sir?'

'Not really. I know I always find the important things. But I want you to have a look around. You usually manage to find the unimportant things - and often diey're the things that really matter in the end.'

Lewis made little attempt to disguise his pleasure, and straightway relented.

'We could go up to the Boat atThrupp?'

'Excellent.'

'You don't want to stay here any longer?'

'No. The SOCOs'll be another couple of hours yet'

'You don't want to see ... her again?'

Morse shook his head. 'I know what she looks like -looked like.' He picked up two coloured photographs and one postcard, and made towards the front door, handing over the keys of the maroon Jaguar to Lewis. 'You'd better drive - if you promise to stick to the orange juice.'

Once on their way, Lewis reported the extraordinarily strange coincidence of the press-man, Owens, living next-door to the murdered woman. But Morse, who always looked upon any coincidence in life as the norm rather than the exception, was more anxious to set forth the firm details he had himself now gleaned about Ms Rachel James, for there could now be no real doubt of her identity.

'Twenty-nine. Single. No offspring. Worked as a free-

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lance physiotherapist at a place in the Banbury Road. CV says she went to school at Torquay Comprehensive; left there in 1984 with a clutch of competent O-levels, three A-levels - two Bs, in Biology and Geography, and an E in Media Studies.'

'Must have been fairly bright'

'What do you mean? You need to be a moron to get an E in Media Studies,' asserted Morse, who had never seen so much as a page of any Media Studies syllabus, let alone a question paper.

He continued:

'Parents, as you know, still alive, on their way here-'

'You'll want me to see them?'

'Well, you are good at that sort of thing, aren't you? And if the mother's like most women she'll probably smell the beer as soon as I open the door.'

'Good reason for you to join me on the orange juice.'

Morse ignored the suggestion. 'She bought the property there just over four years ago for ?65,000 and the value's been felling ever since by the look of things, so the poor lass is one of those figuring in the negative equity statistics; took out a mortgage of ?55,000 - probably Mum and Dad gave her the other ?10,000; and the saleable value of Number 17 is now ?40,000, at the most.'

'Bought at the wrong time, sir. But some people were a bit irresponsible, don't you think?'

'I'm not an economist, as you know, Lewis. But I'll tell you what would have helped her. Helped so many in her boots.'

'A win on the National Lottery?'

'Wouldn't help many, that, would it? No. What she

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could have done with is a healthy dose of inflation. It's a good thing - inflation - you know. Especially for people who've got nothing to start with. One of the best things that happened to some of us. One year I remember I had three jumps in salary.'

'Not many would agree with you on that, though, would they? Conservative and Labour both agree about inflation.'

'Ah! Messrs Bull and Thomas, you mean?'