McQueen. Give her a ring. Not today though . . . like you say, tomorrow.
Just say I'm .. .'
Lewis prepared to go.
'Leave it to me, sir, and .. . keep a stout heart! Promise me that!'
Morse opened his eyes briefly.
'That's what my old father used to say.'
'So you will, won't you, sir?'
Morse nodded slowly.
'I'll try. I'll try ever so hard, my old friend.'
Lewis was checking back the tears as he walked away from the Coronary Care
Unit, and failed to hear Nurse Shelick's quiet
'Goodbye'.
546
chapter SEVI^y. F^ The cart is shaken all to pieces, and i j i r tfg.
rugged road is very near its end (Dickens, Bleak House) that same day was to
be the longest and almost the unhappiest in Lewis's life. At 6.
30 c , , , , ,. 11 a pi. he drove out to Police HO and sat quietly in Morse
s offic( , yr i- i -< 17 p the Harrison case the last thing that concerned
him. At 7 i , . , , ' , pi. he rang the JR2 and learned that Morse's
condition . . . , , .'
^as CnUcal but stable , although he had little real idea what that might
signify on the Coronary Richter Scale.
Strange, early apprised of Morse , . ,. .
6 j if ^ hospitalization, came in at 8 a. m. ' himself immediately ringir .
, ,. . .
' ng the JR2, and impauendy asking several questions and hem '.
, ' * a given the same answer as Lewis: ' Critical but stable'. As n .
, . , nuch was being done as humanly possible, Strange learned, . . 7 r &
Any visit was, at present, quite out of the question.
For' , . .
' ^ l the minute it was all tests and further treatment. The ward I , . ',.
, ..
had the police number of Sergeant Lewis, and would ring if. . ', 6 ' . if
there was any news.
Morse was fully conscious of what . . was going on around him. He felt
fairly sure that he was dying , , .
,. , ' 6 and pretended to himself that he would face death with at Ie;' , ,.
.
agt some degree of dignity, if not with equanimity. He had b . , , . , ,.
' ' / pgn seated beside his old father when he'd died, and hean , . ..
, , . , i him reciting the Lord s
Prayer, as if it were some sort of
insurance policy. And Morse wondered whether his own self-interest might
possibly be served by following suit. But if by any freak of chance there
was an Almighty, well. He'd understand anyway; and since, in Morse's view,
there wasn't, he'd be wasting his really (at this time) rather precious
breath. No. The long day's task was almost done, and he knew that he must
sleep . . .
At 1. 30 p. m. the consultant looked down on the sleeping man. There had
been no positive reaction from the comprehensive tests and treatments; no
success from the diuretic dosages that should have cleared the fluid that was
flooding the lungs; no cause for the sligh est optimism from the
echo-cardiogram. He sat at the desk there and wrote: 'Clinical evidence that
the heart is irreparably damaged; kidney failure already apparent. Without
specific request from n.o.k.
in my judgement inappropriate to resuscitate' The nurse beside him read
through what he had written.
'Nothing else we can do, is there?'
The consultant shook his head.
'Pray for a miracle, that's about the only hope. So if he asks for anything,
let him have it.'
'Even whisky?'
'Why do you say that?'
'He's already asked for a drop.'
'Something we don't stock in the pharmacy, I'm afraid.'
The nurse smiled gently to herself after the consultant had left, for someone
had already slipped a couple of miniature Glenfiddichs into the top of
Morse's bedside table; and there'd only been the one visitor.
Seated outside a cafe on the Champs Elysees, Maxine Ridgway clinked her glass
across the table. It had been a splendid lunch and she felt almost happy.
Thank you! You're a terrible, two-timing fellow you know that. But you're
giving me a wonderful time. You know that, too. '
'Yes, I do know. Trouble is the time's gone by so quickly.'
'No chance of staying another few days? Day or two? Day?'
'No. We're back in the morning as scheduled. I've got a meeting I've agreed
to attend.'
'A board meeting?'
'No, no. Much more interesting. A meeting with a chief inspector of police.
