It was a nice touch, typical of an Oxford SCR; and when at 10.20 a.m. they left the Stamper Room and moved outside into the front quad, most of the Fellows were grinning happily.
But not the Domestic Bursar.
Nor Julian Storrs.
Nor Denis Cornford.
80
CHAPTER TWELVE
The virtue of the camera is not the power it has to transform the photographer into an artist, but the impulse it gives him to keep on looking - and looking
(Brooks Atkinson,
EARLIER THAT SAME morning Morse and Lewis had been sitting together drinking coffee in the canteen at Kidlington Police HQ.
'Well, that's them!' said an unwontedly ungrammat-ical Morse as he pointed to the photograph which some darkroom boy had managed to enlarge and enhance. 'Our one big clue, that; one
As Lewis saw things, the enlargement appeared to have been reasonably effective as far as the clothing was concerned; yet, to be truthful, the promised 'enhancement' of the two faces, those of the murdered woman and of the man so close beside her, seemed to have blurred rather than focused any physiognomical detail.
'Well?' asked Morse.
'Worse than the original.'
'Nonsense! Look at that.' Morse pointed to the tight
81
COLIN DEXTER
triangular knot of the man's tie, which appeared -just -above a high-necked grey sweater.
Yes. Lewis acknowledged that the colour and pattern of the tie were perhaps a little clearer.
'I think I almost recognize that tie,' continued Morse slowly. 'That deepish maroon colour. And that' (he pointed again) 'that narrow white stripe ...'
'We never had ties at school,' ventured Lewis.
But Morse was too deeply engrossed to bother about his sergeant's former school uniform, or lack of it, as with a magnifying glass he sought further to enhance (?) the texture of the small relevant area of the photograph.
'Bit o' taste there, Lewis. Little bit o' class. I wouldn't be surprised if it's the tie of the Old Wykehamists' Classical Association.'
Lewis said nothing.
And Morse looked at him almost accusingly. 'You don't seem very interested in what I'm telling you.'
'Not too much, perhaps.'
'All right! Perhaps it's not a public-school tie. So what tie do
Again Lewis said nothing.
After a while, a semi-mollified Morse picked up the photograph, returned it to its buff-coloured Do-Not-Bend envelope, and sat back in his seat
He looked tired.
And, as Lewis knew, he was frustrated too, since necessarily the whole of the previous day had been spent on precisely those aspects of detective work that Morse disliked the most: admin, organization, procedures -
82
DEATH IS NOW MY NEIGHBOUR
with as yet little opportunity for him to indulge in the things he told himself he did the best hypotheses, imaginings, the occasional leap into the semi-darkness.
It was now 9 a.m.
'You'd better get off to the station, Lewis. And good luck!'
'What are
'Going down into Oxford for a haircut'
'We've got a couple of new barbers' shops opened here. No need to-'
'I - am - going - down - into - Oxford, all right' A bit later, I'm going to meet a fellow who's an expert on ties, all right''
Til give you a lift, if you like.'
'No. It only takes one of those shapely lasses in Shepherd and Woodward's about ten minutes to trim my locks - and I'm not meeting this fellow till eleven.'
'King's Arms, is it?'
