Inspector Morse 12 Death is Now My Neighbour

'I think someone wrote die card to her, put it in an

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DEATH IS NOW MY NEIGHBOUR

envelope, and then addressed the envelope - not the card.'

'Why not just address the card?'

'Because whoever wrote it didn't want anyone else to read it.'

'Why not just phone her up?'

'Difficult - if he was married and his wife was always around.'

'He could ring her from a phone-box.'

'Risky - if anyone saw him.'

Lewis nodded without any conviction: 'And it's only a bit of poetry.'

'Is it?' asked Morse quiedy.

Lewis picked up the card again. 'Perhaps it's this chap called 'Wilmot', sir - the date's just mere to mislead us.'

'Mislead you, perhaps. John Wilmot, Earl of Rochester, was a court poet to Charles II. He wrote some delightfully pornographic lyrics.'

'So it's - it's all genuine?'

'I didn't say that, did I? The name's genuine, but not the poem. Any English scholar would know that's not seventeenth-century verse.'

Tm sure you're right, sir.'

'And if I'm right about the card coming in an envelope - fairly recently - we might be able to find the envelope, agreed? Find a postmark, perhaps? Even a bit of handwriting?'

Lewis looked dubious. 'I'd better get something organized, then.'

COLIN DEXTER

'All taken care of! I've got a couple of the DCs looking through the wastepaper baskets and the dustbin.'

'You reckon this is important, then?'

'Top priority! You can see that. She's been meeting some man - meeting him secretly. Which means he's probably married, probably fairly well known, probably got a prominent job, probably a local man-'

'Probably lives in Peterborough,' mumbled Lewis.

'That's exactly why the postmark's so vital!' countered an unamused Morse. 'But if he's an Oxford man ...'

'Do you know what the population of Oxford «?'

'I know it to the nearest thousand.' snapped Morse.

Then, of a sudden, the Chief Inspector's mood completely changed. He tapped the postcard.

'Don't be despondent, Lewis. You see, we know just a litde about this fellow already, don't we?'

He smiled benignly after draining his second pint; and since no other customers had as yet entered the lounge, Lewis resignedly got to his feet and stepped over to the bar once more.

Lewis picked up the postcard again.

'Give me a clue, sir.'

You know the difference between nouns and verbs, of course?'

'How could I forget something like that?'

'Well, at certain periods in English literature, all the nouns were spelt with capital letters. Now, as you can see, there are eight nouns in those six lines - each of them spelt with a capital letter. But there are nine capitals

DEATH IS NOW MY NEIGHBOUR

- forgetting the first word of each line. Now which is the odd one out?'

Lewis pretended to study the lines once more. He'd played this game before, and he trusted he could get away with it again, as his eyes suddenly lit up a litde.

'Ah ... I think -1 think I see what you mean.'

'Hits you in the eye, doesn't it, dial 'Wed' in the first line? And that's what it was intended to do.'

'Obviously.'

'What's it mean?'

'What, 'Wed'? Well, it means 'marry' - you know, get hitched, get spliced, tie the knot-'

'What else?'

'Isn't that enough?'