favour?'
'That's about it.' (Andrews sidled silently from the room. ) 'Well let
me tell you one thing, matey. You won't be staying on as a personal favour
is that clear? You'll be staying on because you're in charge of this case
because that's an order. You may have had some excuse as far as the
Harrison case was concerned: I could just about understand that.'
(Strange's voice had momentarily dropped to a semi-sympathetic register. )
'But you've no bloody excuse now. And if you decide to get on your high
horse again and start arguing the toss with me, you'll be up before the Chief
Constable first thing Monday morning!'
'The Chief's on furlough,' interposed a brave Lewis.
129
'Shut up, Lewis! And he'll have your guts for garters, Morse. So
that's settled. All you've got to do is sober up and put your thinking-cap
on.'
'I usually think better when But Morse's disquisition on his personal style
of ratiocination was cut short by a further knock, with Dr Hobson's pretty
head appearing round the door.
'Oh, sorry! It's just ' ' Come in! ' growled Strange, his jowls still
wobbling.
'Just thought I'd check. We've got him outside and Andrews says it's OK if '
' Who is he? ' asked Strange.
'Don't know. I had a tentative feel round his pockets. No wallet, though,
no cards ' ' He's pretty easily recognizable though? '
'Oh, yes. His face is fine. It's his stomach that's all a gory mess where
the knife or whatever it was went in.'
'At least we've got a good mug-shot of him then.'
'Probably identify him straightaway. I got this from his trouser- pocket.'
Strange looked down at a white
'Cardholder's Copy' receipt from Oddbins of Banbury Road, itemizing the
purchase of a crate of Guinness, the number of the Visa credit card printed
below in a faded indigo.
'There we are, Lewis! Shouldn't be too difficult, should it?' He handed
over the receipt with an unconvincing smile. 'Unless you manage to lose
that, of course.'
It was a hurtful dig. But the patient Lewis briefly examined the evidence
himself, and sought to put a finger on the fairly obvious: 'Not much chance
this afternoon, sir. Saturday? The banks'll all be shut.'
'What? For Christ's sake, man! We've put someone on the moon, remember?
And you say we can't trace a credit-card
number because it's a bloody Saturday^. Is that what you're telling me? '
Morse had remained silent during these exchanges; and remained so now, his
brain already galloping several furlongs ahead of the field.
And Lewis, after such a withering rebuke, also remained silent, holding the
receipt tightly, like a punter clutching a winning betting-slip. Only
Strange, it appeared, was willing to break the awkward silence as he turned
again to Dr Hobson.
'They're just carting him off, you say?'
'Yes.'
'Well, let us know let Chief Inspector Morse know what you come up with.
Sooner the quicker. Understood?'
'Of course.'
The assembled personages rose to their feet; and matters at Sutton Courtenay
were seemingly now at an end.
But not so; not quite.
It was Morse, at last, who made his brief though extra- ordinarily
significant contribution to the afternoon's developments
'Sir, I think you ought to have a look at him.'
'I don't like dead bodies any more than you do, Morse.'
'I know that, but. . .'
'But what?'
'. . . but you ought to have a look at him. ' Morse spoke his words
slowly and quietly.
'You see, I think it's quite possible that you'11 recognize him.'
Frequently afterwards, in the post-Morse years, would Sergeant Lewis recall
that afternoon at the fill-in site in Oxfordshire: when Chief Superintendent
Strange had looked at the bloodless face of a murdered man; and when his
erstwhile ruddy cheeks had paled to chalky white.
'Bloody 'ell! I knew him, Morse. I interviewed him twice in the Harrison
murder enquiry.'
131
When the top brass had finally dispersed, Eddie Andrews let himself
back into the now deserted office, turned on the TV, found Sport (Cricket) on
