Inspector Morse 12 Death is Now My Neighbour

week in Oxford.'

Morse looked hurt.

'You still think it's just about possible?'

Lewis considered the question again.

'No, sir. I know you always like to think that most murders are committed by next-door neighbours or husbands or wives-'

'But what if this woman at Number i isn't telling us the truth?' queried Morse. 'What if she never made that phone-call at all? What if she's in it with him? What if she's more

than willing to provide him with a nice little alibi? You see, you're probably right about the time-scale of things. He probably wouldn 't have had time to get back here to Kidlington, commit the murder, and then return to the office and be sitting quietly at his desk when she rang him.'

'So?'

'So she's lying. Just like heisl He got back here - easy! -murdered Rachel James - and stayed here, duly putting in an appearance as the very first reporter on the scene!'

'I'm sorry, sir, but she implying, not about this. I don't know what you think the rest of us have been doing since Monday morning but we've done quite a bit of checking up already. And she's not lying about the phone-call to Owens' office. One of die lads went along to BT and confirmed it. The call was monitored and it'll be listed on the itemized telephone bill of die subscriber - Number i Bloxham Drive!'

'Does it give the time)'

Lewis appeared slighdy uneasy. Tm not quite sure about that.'

'And if our ace-reporter Owens is privileged enough to have an answerphone in his office - which he is...'

Ye-es. Perhaps Morse was on to something after all. Because if the two of diem had, for some reason, been working togedier... Lewis put his thoughts into words:

'You mean he needn't have gone in to work at all ... Ye-es. You say that electronic gadget records die number on your card, and the time - but it doesn't record die car itself, right?'

Morse nodded encouragement. And Lewis, duly encouraged, continued:

'So if somebody else had taken his card - and if he stayed in the Drive all the time ...'

Morse finished it off for him: 'He's got a key to Number i - he's in there when she drives off - he walks along the back of the terrace - shoots Rachel James - goes back to Number i - rings up his own office number - waits for the answerphone pips - probably doesn't say anything -just keeps the line open for a minute or two - and Bob's your father's brother.'

Lewis sighed. 'I'd better get on with a bit of fourth-grade clerical checking, sir - this parking business, the phone-call, any of his colleagues who might have seen him-'

'Or her.'

'It's worth checking, I can see that.'

'Tomorrow, Lewis. We're doing nothing more today.'

'And this woman at Number i?'

'Is she a nice-looking lass?'

'Very much so.'

*You leave that side of things to me, then.'

Morse got to his feet and went to the door. But then returned, and sat down again.

'That 'refrigeration factor' you mentioned, Lewis - time of death and all that Interesting, isn't it? So far, we've been assuming that the bullet went through the window and ended up hi the corpse, haven't we? But if-just if- Rachel James had been murdered a bit earlier, inside Number 17, and then someone had fired through the window at some later stage... You see what I mean? Everybody's alibi is up the pole, isn't it?'

'There'd be another bullet, though, wouldn't there?

We've got the one from Rachel's neck; but there'd be another one somewhere in the kitchen if someone fired-'

'Not necessarily the murderer, remember!'

'But if someone fired just through the window, without aiming at anything...'

'Did the SOCOs have a good look at the ceiling, the walls - the floorboards?'

'They did, yes.'

'Somebody might have picked it up and pocketed it'

'Who on earth-'

'I've not the faintest idea.'

'Talking of bullets, sir, we've got anodier little report -from ballistics. Do you want to read it?'