'I've always had problems with sex.'
'You know what I mean sex-drive .. . ?'
'I'm a bachelor.'
'What's that got to do with it?'
'Just that I lead a reasonably celibate life.'
'It is my job to ask these questions, you understand that.'
The dark-brown eyes were growing progressively less angry as she examined his
feet, and then his eyes. She had in fact virtually finished with him when a
nurse knocked and entered the room, explaining swiftly that an out-patient
had just fainted in Reception; and since for the minute Dr Harrison was the
only consultant there .
.
After she had left, Morse stepped quickly over to the desk and opened his own
folder. On top lay a brief handwritten note:
Don't be intimidated, Sarah!
He's hugely economical with the truth, but he's really a softie at heart (I
think). Robert (sic! ) And underneath it, a copy of a letter (Strictly
Confidential) sent to the Summertown Health Centre and dated 18 May 1998.
Re Annual Review: E. Morse. Dear Dr Roblin, Haemoglobin A Ic (as you'll
see) is higher than we would like at 11. 5%. I've instructed him to
increase each of his four daily insulin doses by 2 units up to 10, 6, 12, 36.
In addition, his cholesterol level is getting rather worrying. It's
pointless to ask him to cut his intake of alcohol, so please add to his
prescribed medicines Atorvastatin 10 mg tablets nocte.
Eyes are remarkably good. Blood pressure is still too high. No problems
with feet.
His general condition gives me no real cause for immediate anxiety, but I
shall be glad if you can insist on a regular monthly review, at least for the
rest of the year. I enclose the relevant clinical data.
Regards to your family.
With best wishes, Professor R C Turner Honorary Consultant Physician P. S.
He tells me he's stopped smoking! And he's certainly stopped listening to me.
Morse was sitting, slowly pulling on his socks, when Sarah Harrison returned.
'I'll tell you one thing: you've got quite nice feet.'
'I'm glad bits of me are OK-' Whilst tying his shoelaces. Morse had missed
the look of quick intelligence in the large brown eyes.
'Bit sneaky, wasn't it?' she held up the file.
Morse nodded.
'Don't worry, though. Professor Turner sent me a copy of that last letter.'
'Well, in that case, there's not really much more . . .' She got to her
feet.
'Please!' Morse signalled to the chair, and obediently she sat down again.
'Why haven't you mentioned the murders. Doctor They're all over the national
papers.'
'I bought six of them yesterday, if you must know.'
'Your father? Your brother Simon, isn't it? Do they know?'
'I've not seen Simon recently.'
'You could have phoned him.'
'Simon is not the sort of person you phone. He's deaf, very deaf- as you
probably know anyway.'
'And your father?' repeated Morse.
'I ... whether or not. . . Oddly enough I saw him last week. He came to
stay with me for a couple of nights.'
'Which nights?'
'Wednesday and Thursday. He went back to London on Friday.'
'What time?'
'Is this the Inquisition?'
'It is my job to ask these questions, you understand that.'
'Touche! He caught the train I'm not sure which one. He didn't bring the
car nowhere to park in Oxford, is there?'
'Why didn't you see him off?'
'I couldn't.'
'Were you working?'
'No. I'd arranged to have Thursday and Friday off myself. Like Dad, I'd a
few days' holiday to make up.'
'So why not see him off?'
The eyes were fiery now.
'I'll tell you why. Because he took me out the previous night to Le Petit
Blanc in Walton Street and we had a super meal and we had far too much booze
before, during, and after, all right? And I got as pissed as a tailed
amphibian and tried to sleep things off with enough pills to frighten even
you! And when I finally staggered down- stairs eleven? half-eleven? - I
saw this note on the kitchen table: ' Off back to London. Didn't want to
wake you. Love Dad' - something like that.'
'Any time on the note?'
'Don't think so.'
'Have you kept it?'
'Course I've not kept it! Hardly a specimen of purple prose, was it?'
'Don't be cross with me,' said Morse gently as he got to his feet, and left
the consulting room with two blue cards for more immediate and urgent blood
tests, and with instructions to fix up a further appointment for eight weeks'
time.
After the door had closed behind him, Sarah dialled 9 for an outside line on
