Inspector Morse 12 Death is Now My Neighbour

An alibi - for both of them.

Lewis thanked die Manager. 'But please do keep all this to yourself, sir. It's always a tricky business when we're trying to eliminate suspects in a case. Not suspects, diough, just.. .just people.'

A few minutes later Lewis again rang the Storrs' residence in Polstead Road; again listening to Mrs Storrs on the answerphone: 'If the caller will please speak clearly after the long tone ...' The voice was a little -what had the Manager said? - a litde 'severe', yes. And quite certainly (Lewis thought) it was a voice likely to intimidate a few of die students if she became die new Master's wife. But after'waiting for the 'long tone', Lewis put down die phone without leaving any message. He always felt awkward and tongue-tied at such moments; and he suddenly realized dial he hadn't got a message to leave in any case.

CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

Horse-sense is something a horse has that prevents him from betting on people

(Father Mathew)

MORSE WAS STILL seated at the kitchen table in Number 15 when Lewis rang through.

'So it looks,' concluded Lewis, 'as if they're in the clear.'

'Ye-es. How far is it from Oxford to Bath?'

'Seventy, seventy-five miles?'

'Sunday morning. No traffic. Do it in an hour and a half- no problem. Three hours there and back.'

'There's a murder to commit in the middle, though.'

Morse conceded the point. 'Three and a half.'

'Well, whatever happened, he didn't use his awn car. That was in the hotel garage - keys with die porter.'

'Haven't you heard of a duplicate set of car-keys, Lewis?'

'What if he was locked in - or blocked in?'

'He wwlocked himself, and wnblocked himself, all right?'

'He must have left about four o'clock this morning then, because he was back in bed having breakfast with his missus before eight'

·Ye-es.'

'I just wonder what Owens was doing, sir - up and about and dressed and ready to let the murderer hi at half past five or so.'

'Perhaps he couldn't sleep.'

'You're not taking all this seriously, are you?'

'All right. Let's cross 'em both off the list, I agree.'

'Have we got a list?'

Morse nodded. 'Not too many on it, I know. But I'd like to see our other runner in the Lonsdale Stakes.'

'Do you want me to see him?'

'No. You get back here and look after the shop till the SOCOs have left - they're nearly through.'

With which, Morse put down the phone, got to his feet, and looked cautiously through into the hallway; then walked to the front door, where a uniformed PC stood on guard.

'Has the Super gone?' asked Morse.

'Yes, sir. Five minutes ago.'

Morse walked back to the kitchen and opened the door of the refrigerator. The usual items: two pints of Co-op milk, Flora margarine, a packet of unsmoked bacon rashers, five eggs, a carton of grapefruit juice, two cans of Courage's bitter...

Morse found a glass in the cupboard above the draining-board, and poured himself a beer. The liquid was cool and sharp on his dry throat; and very soon he had opened the second can, his fingers almost sensuously

feeling the cellophane^vrapped cigarettes in his pocket, still unopened.

By the time the SOCOs were ready to move into the kitchen, the glass had been dried and replaced on its shelf.

'Can we kick you out a little while, sir?' It was Andrews, the senior man.

'You've finished everywhere else?'

'Pretty well.'

Morse got to his feet.

'Ah! Two cans of beer!' observed Andrews. 'Think diey may have had a drink together before ... ?'

'Not at that time of the morning, no.'

'I dunno. I used to have a friend who drank a pint of Guinness for breakfast every morning.'

'Sounds a civilized sort of fellow.'