where he poured himself the last half- inch of Glenfiddich, sat down again,
silently raised his glass, and drained it.
He looked down at the several sheets of paper remaining in the folder, marked
on the first page
'Notes on the Harrison Case', and all written in Morse's hand, that same
small upright script that Lewis had found in the Harrison files. He'd go
through it all later though. For the moment he placed the other two single
sheets on the top, and was preparing to leave, when he opened the second
drawer down again, took out the photograph of the Jaguar, and slipped it into
the folder on top of everything else.
And noticed something else there, pushed to the back of the drawer.
A pair of handcuffs.
361
chapter seventy-nine Heaven has no rage like love to hatred turned, Nor
hell a jury like a woman scorned (Congreve, The Mowmmg Bride) If you're
guilty, you'll have to prove it (Groucho Marx) lewis finished reading through
the folder early that same evening.
Most of it he'd known about already. It was only when he'd come to the last
three sheets that he was aware of the wholly new tenor of Morse's thinking.
But herewith I give my final thoughts on the murder of Yvonne Harrison, that
crisply uniformed nurse who looked after me in hospital once (but once! )
with such tempting, loving care.
From the start of this case, one person stood out high above the others in
firmness of purpose, daring, and clarity of mind: Frank Harrison. He was
still sexually attracted to Yvonne, but she was no longer attracted to him;
indeed one night in hospital she told me that she used to hook her foot over
her own side of the mattress to establish a sort of no man land between
them. But she remained a woman obsessively interested in sex, both as
practising participant and addicted voyeur. (She had mentioned to me some
Amster- dam videos. But although I looked quite carefully through
the scores of videos there, I could find nothing. I suspect they were
innocently disguised under such labels as The Jungle Book or Cooking with
Herbs. ) Now clearly Frank Harrison was is someone with a very strong sexual
drive, and doubtless he claimed his marital rights on his spasmodic periods
at home. But inevitably, when they were away from each other, Yvonne knew
what he was up to, just as he knew what she was up to. And for that reason,
I can find no compelling motive for Frank Harrison to have murdered his wife.
There might have been the opportunity, for all we know. But his alibi was
uncontested, since there seemed no reason to suspect the firm and explicit
evidence of the man Flynn, who claimed to have picked him up from Oxford
Station and driven him out to his home to Lower Swinstead.
It is now my view (I look forward to interviewing Frank H on the matter) that
Flynn was not in fact paid for fixing his taxi-times for the purpose of
Harrison's alibi. He was paid for something different.
Until so very recently I thought that Simon must have murdered his mother.
He had ample motive if he found his beloved mum in bed with the local,
builder God help us! And the other facts fitted that hypothesis neatly: he
was known to Repp, the local shady character familiar to everyone around, as
well as being a regular at the Maiden's Arms; known to Barren, of course; and
also known to Flynn, because the pair of them had attended lip-reading
classes together.
As you know, I was wrong.
But there was someone else who had an even more compelling motive, with the
other facts fitting equally convincingly: Sarah Harrison.
What motive could she have had? Simply this: that she and Barren had been
secret lovers for a year or so before Yvonne's murder. I learned something
about this from two most unlikely witnesses from Alf and Bert, denizens of the
Maiden's Arms. Particularly from Bert, 36^
who had seen the two of
