Inspector Morse 12 Death is Now My Neighbour

any other man how to live his life. And I will not be told, at my age, how I'm supposed to live mine. Even by you.'

After a prolonged silence, Lewis spoke again.

'Can I say something else?'

Morse shrugged indifferently.

'Perhaps it doesn't matter much to most people whedier you kill yourself or not. You've got no wife, no family, no relatives, except that aunt of yours in Alnwick-'

'She's dead, too.'

'So, what the hell? What's it matter? Who cares? Well, 7 care, sir. And die missus cares. And for all I know diat girl Ellie Smith, she cares.'

Morse looked down at his desk. 'Not any longer, no.'

'And you ought to care - care for yourself-just a bit'

For some considerable while Morse refrained from making any answer, for he was affected by his sergeant's words more deeply than he would ever be prepared to admit.

Then, finally:

'What about diat coffee, Lewis?'

'And a sandwich?'

'And a sandwich.'

By early afternoon Morse had put most of his cards on the table, and he and Lewis had reached an agreed conclusion. No longer could eidier of diem accept diat Rachel James had been die intended victim: each of diem now looked towards Geoffrey Owens as by far die

likelier target Pursuance of the abundant clues provided by the Owens file would necessarily involve a great deal of extra work; and fairly soon a strategy was devised, with Lewis and Dixon allocated virtually everything except the Soho slot.

'You know, I could probably fit that in fairly easily with the Wimbledon visit,' Lewis had volunteered.

But Morse was clearly unconvinced:

'The Soho angle's the most important of the lot.'

'Do you honesdy believe that?'

'Certainly. That's why-'

The phone rang, answered by Morse.

Owens (he learned) had phoned HQ ten minutes earlier, just after 3 p.m., to report that his property had been burgled over the weekend, while he was away.

'And you're dealing with it? ... Good ... Just die one item you say, as far as he knows? ... I see ... Thank you.'

Morse put down the phone; and Lewis picked up die file, looking quizzically across the desk.

But Morse shook his head. 'Not the file, no.'

'What, dien?'

'A valuable litde ormolu clock from his living-room.'

'Probably a professional, sir - one who knows his clocks.' I 'Don't ask me. I know nothing about clocks.'

Lewis grinned. 'We bodi know somebody who does though, don't we, sir?'

CHAPTER THIRTY

This world and the next - and after that all our troubles will be over

(Attributed to General Gordon's aunt)

No KNOCK. THE door opened. Strange entered.

'Haven't they mentioned it yet, Morse? The pubs are open all day on Sundays now.'

As Strange carefully balanced his bulk ori the chair opposite, Morse lauded his luck that Lewis had taken the Owens material down the corridor for photocopying.

'Just catching up on a bit of routine stuff, sir.'

'Really?'

'Why are you here?'

'It's the wife,' confided Strange. 'Sunday afternoons she always goes round the house dusting everything. Including me!'

Morse was smiling dutifully as Strange continued: 'Making progress?'

'Following up a few things, yes.'

'Mm ... Is your brain as bright as it used to be?'