that had overtaken those earlier minutes of indecision and 325
any
embezzlement or misappropriation of funds was most definitely not to be laid
at the door of one of the Bank's most experienced, most trusted, most valued
blah blah blah.
It was a call in which Morse was most interested, now repeating (with some
self-congratulation) what he had earlier maintained: that Frank Harrison
might well be, most likely was, capable of murder; but that it was quite out
of character, definitely infra dignitatem, for him to stoop to cooking the
books and fiddling the balance-and-loss ledgers.
'Do you think you may be wrong, sir?'
'Certainly not. He'll be back from Paris, believe me! There's no
hiding-place for him. Not from me, there isn't.'
'You think he murdered his wife?'
'No. But he knows who did. You know who did. But we've got to get some
evidence. We've been checking alibis recent ones. But we've got to check
those earlier alibis again.'
'Who are you thinking of?'
'Of whom am I thinking?' (Morse recalled the suspicion he'd voiced in his
earlier notes. ) 'I'm thinking of the only other person apart from Frank
Harrison who had a sufficient motive to kill Yvonne
'You mean ?'
'Do you ever go to the pictures?'
'They don't call it the ' pictures' any more.'
'I went to the pictures a year and a bit ago to see The Full Monty.'
'Surely not your sort of ?'
'Exactly my sort of thing. I laughed and I cried.'
'Oh yes.' (The penny had dropped. ) 'Simon Harrison said he'd gone ' ''
Said', yes.'
'Said he'd gone with someone else, didn't he? A girlfriend.'
'Wasn't checked though, as far as I can see.'
'Understandable, isn't it? Nobody ever really thought of someone inside the
family.'
'Oh yes they did. Frank Harrison was one of their first suspects.'
'But with those signs of burglary, the broken window, the burglar alarm .. .'
Morse nodded.
'At first almost everything pointed to an outside job.
But then it slowly began to look like something else: a lover, a tryst, a
sex-session, a quarrel, a murder . . . '
'And now we're coming back to the family, you say.'
'No one seems to have bothered to get a statement from the young lady Simon
Harrison took to the pictures that evening.'
'Perhaps we could still trace her, sir?'
Yes. '
'It's a long time ago though. She'd never remember ' ' Of course she would!
It was all over the papers: 'Woman Murdered' and she'd been with that same
woman's son the evening when it happened. She could never forget it! '
'It's still a long time ' ' Lewis! I don't eat all that much as you know.
But when I'm cooking for myself- ' (Lewis's eyebrows rose. ) ' -1 always
make sure the plate's hot. I can't abide eating off a cold plate. '
'You mean we could heat the plate up again?'
'The plate's already hot again. She's still around. She's a proud, married
mum now living in Witney.'
'How do you know all that?'
'You can't do everything yourself, Lewis.'
'Dixon, you mean?'
'Good man, Dixon! So we're going to see her tonight. Just you and
I. '
'You think Simon murdered his mum.'
'No doubt about that. Not any longer, Lewis,' said Morse quietly.
'Just because he found her in bed with someone . . .'
'With Barron. I know that, Lewis.'
329
Never before had Lewis been so hesitant in asking Morse a question:
'Did . . . did Mrs Hamson ever tell you that she was . . . seeing
Barron?'
Morse hesitated hesitated for far too long.
'No. No, she never told me that.'
Lewis waited a while, choosing his words carefully and speaking them slowly:
'If she had told you, would you have been as jealous as Simon Harrison?'
Again Morse hesitated.
'Jealousy is a dreadfully corrosive thing. The most powerful motive of all,
in my view, for murder - more powerful than ' The phone rang once more and
Morse answered.
Kershaw.
'They'll soon be winging their way across the channel, sir. Anything more
you want me to do?'
'Yes. Have a pint of beer, just the one, then bugger off home.'
Morse put down the phone.
'Good man, Kershaw! Bit of an old woman though. Reminds me of my Aunt
Gladys in Ainwick, my last remaining relative. Well, she was. Dead now.'
'I think he'll do well, yes.'
'Kershaw? Should do. He got a First in History from Keble.'
'Bit more than me, sir.'
'Bit more than me, Lewis.'
The phone was ringing again.
Strange.
'Morse? You've let him out of the country, I hear?'
'Yes. We need a bit more time and a bit more evidence before we bring him
in.'
'I agree,' said Strange, unexpectedly.
'No good just.
