Lewis nodded joylessly.
'Well, the situation's fairly simple. You just lost contact with him in the
middle of things, that's all. No great shakes, is it? He's fine, believe
me! Absolutely fine. At this very second he's probably got his bottom on
the top sheet with that common- law missus of his.
She picked him up somewhere that's for certain. Most of these people
released from the nick have somebody to pick 'em up. '
'Except she doesn't drive a car.'
'All right. She arranged for somebody else to pick him up.'
'Why did he ask for a travel warrant, then?'
Morse looked less than happy.
'He got on the bus at Bicester and while he was sitting there somebody saw
him and tapped on the window and offered him a lift to Oxford or wherever he
was going and we know where that is, don't we? Home. Which is exactly where
he is now, you can put your bank balance on that! It's a racing certainty.
And if you don't believe me, go and see for yourself!'
Lewis considered what he had just heard.
'It must have been somebody unexpected, sir. Like I say, he'd asked for a
warrant.'
'You're right, yes. Well, partly right. Either unexpected or not really
expected . . . Perhaps not really welcome, either,' added Morse slowly, a
weak smile playing on his lips as though for the first time that morning his
brain was possibly engaged in some serious thinking.
'You reckon that's what happened?'
'Lewis! Something happened, didn't it? If you think your man decided to
de materialize you've been watching too many space videos.'
'I don't watch ' 79
' Look! Remember what I've always told you when we've
been on a case together unlike this one! There's always, without exception,
some wholly explicable, wholly logical causation for any chain of events, in
any situation. In this case, you've just got to ask yourself where the link
broke, then how it broke, then why it broke and nothing in that sequence of
events is going to be anything but simple and commonplace. '
Lewis looked the troubled man he was.
'I just can't see how. . .'
Morse's question was quietly spoken.
'You remember that car, the one you said somehow squeezed in between you and
the bus from Bullingdon?'
Lewis looked across the desk in pained surprise.
'You don't think. .
'' What do you remember about it? '
'Dark colour black, I think pretty recent Reg - one person in it - man, I
think pretty sure it was a man.'
'Not very observant ' ' I was looking at the bus all the time, for God's
sake! '
' - and not much help, if you want the truth. '
No, it wasn't, Lewis knew that.
'What do I tell the Super, though?'
'If I were you? I certainly wouldn't tell him the truth. Not a very wise
thing, you know, going through life telling nothing but the truth. So in
this case, I'd tell him I'd followed the bus to Bicester, then followed the
bus to Oxford, then seen Repp get off outside The Randolph, get picked up
there in a car, and get driven off in the general direction of Chaucer Lane,
Burford. Easy!'
Uneasy, however, was Lewis's minimal nod.
'But I'm not you, Lewis, am I? I'm a very accomplished liar myself, but I've
never rated you too highly in that department.'
A puzzled look suddenly came over Lewis's brow.
'How come you know where Repp lives?'
'Great man Chaucer, born in 1343, it's thought '
'You're not answering my question!'
'I know a lot of things, Lewis far more than you think.'
'You've still not told me what I'm supposed to say to the Super.'
'Cut your losses and tell him the truth.'
'He'll tear me apart.'
'You may well be surprised.'
But, as he rose to his feet, Lewis appeared far from convinced.
'Well, I suppose I'd better ' ' Hold your horses! ' (Morse looked at his
wristwatch.) ' It may just be that I can help you. '
Lewis's eyebrows lifted a little as Morse continued: ' You promise to buy roe
a couple of drinks, and I'll promise to give you a big, fat juicy clue. '
'If you say so, sir.'
'Off we go then.'
'What's this big, fat ?'
'I'll give you the Registration Number of the car that you followed from
Bullingdon to Bicester! Bargain, is it?'
Lewis's eyebrows lifted a lot.
'No kidding?'
Morse rechecked his wristwatch.
'First things first, though. They've already been open five minutes.'
81
chapter nineteen It's good to hope; it's the waiting that spoils it
(Yiddish proverb) with increasing impatience and with incipient disquiet,
lighting one cigarette from another, drinking cup after cup of instant
coffee, Deborah Richardson had been watching from the front-room window, on
and off from 10. 30 a. m. ' on and off from 11.30 a.m.' and virtually on
