heard.'
'It's not a. joke. Morse! Terrible affliction, deafness.'
'Would you like me to have a word with him myself?' For some reason Morse's
smile was broader now.
'I've already, er .. .'
'Were you at home, sir, when this anonymous caller rang you
Strange shifted uncomfortably in the chair, finally nodding slowly.
'I thought you were ex-directory, sir.'
'You thought right.'
'How did he know your number then?'
' 'ow the 'ell do I know! '
'The only people who'd know would be your close friends, family . . .
'' And people at HQ/ added Strange.
'What are you suggesting?'
'Well, for starters ... have you got my telephone number?'
Morse walked out into the entrance hall and returned with a white-plastic
telephone index, on which he pressed the letter 'S', then pushed the list of
names and numbers there under the half-lenses now perched on Strange's nose.
'Not changed, has it?'
'dot an extra 'five' in front of it. But you'd know that,
wouldn't you? ' The eyes over the top of the lenses looked shrewdly and
steadily up at Morse.
'Yes. It's just the same with my number.'
'Do you think I should get a tap on my phone?'
'Wouldn't do any harm, if he rings again.'
'When he rings again.'
'Hoaxer! Sure to be.'
'Well-informed hoaxer, then.' Strange pointed to the paper still on the arm
of Morse's chair.
'A bit in the know, wouldn't you say?
Someone on the inside, perhaps? You couldn't have found one or two things
referred to there in any of the press reports. Only the police'd know. '
'And the murderer,' added Morse.
'And the murderer,' repeated Strange.
Morse looked down once more at the notes Strange had made in his
appropriately outsized, spidery handwriting: Call One That Lower Swinstead
woman nickers up and down like a yo-yo - a lot of paying clients and a few
non-paying clients like me. Got nowhere much with the case did you
incompetant lot. For starters you wondered if it was one of the locals,
didn't you? Then for the main course you wasted most of your time with the
husband. Then you didn't have any sweet because you'd run out of money. Am
I right? Idiots, the lot of you. No! Don't interrupt! (Line suddenly
dead. ) Call Two Now don't interrupt this time, see? Don't say a
dicky-bird! Like I said, that woman had more pricks than a second-hand
dart-board, mine included, but it's not me who had anything to do with it.
Want a clue? There's somebody coming out of the clammer in a fortnight
listen! He's one of your locals, 23
isn't he? See what I mean? You
cocked it all up before and you're lucky bastards to have another chance.
(Line suddenly dead. ) Morse looked up to find himself the object of
Strange's steady gaze.
'It's incompetCT<, sir, with an ' e'.'
'Thank you very much!'
'And most people put a ' k' on ' knickers'.'
Strange smiled grimly.
'And Yvonne Harrison put an embargo on knickers, however you spell 'em!'
He struggled to his feet.
'My office Monday morning first thing!'
'Eight o'clock?'
'Nine- thirty?'
'Nine-thirty.'
'Now get back to your Schubert though I'm surprised you weren't listening to
Wagner. Just the job, The Ring, for a long holiday, you know. Especially
the Sold recording.'
Morse watched his visitor waddling somewhat unsteadily towards the police car
parked confidently in the
'Resident's Only' parking area.
(Yes! Morse had mentioned the apostrophe to the Chairman of the Residents'
Welfare Committee. ) He closed the front door and for a few moments stood
there motionless, acknowledging with a series of almost imperceptible nods
the simple truth about the latest encounter between two men who knew each
other well, both for good and ill: Game, Set, Match, to Strange.
Or was it?
For there was something about what he had just learned, something he had not
yet even begun to analyse, that was perplexing him slightly.
The following Sunday was a pleasant summer's day; and along with
three-quarters of the population of Hampshire, Morse decided to go down to
Bournemouth. It took him over an hour to park the Jaguar; and it was a
further half-hour before he reached the sea front where car-loads and
bus-loads of formidable families were negotiating rights to a couple of
square me tres of Lebensraum. But moving away from the ice cream emporia,
Morse found progressively fewer and fewer day-trippers as he walked towards
