wanted him for that, which we don't. Deafer than I thought and lip-reads a
lot. Names a big problem: Flynn OK, but Repp and Barron hard for him its
something to do with the labial consonents (so he says). Intelligent, bit
too intense, loner (? ).
FRANK H
Friday 24 July: meeting in London office 10-11. 45 a. m. with four
colleagues. (Check! ) Monday 3 Aug: at Randolph (booked in the day before).
Breakfast 7. 50-8. 40 a. m. (approx) with 'partner' (real honey ace. to
Ailish at the bar. ) Car apparently not moved from Resident's garage that
day.
As suspect? Same as SH (see above). Smart business exec. type, pleasant
enough, bit abrupt, not short of the pennies asked me to join him in glass of
champange ( 7 a go! ) Thinning on top, thickening in middle. Seems used to
getting what he wants in life.
SARAH H
Friday 24 July: at BDA Conference in Manchester with boss arr 12. 30 p. m.
ret 9. 50 p. m. - rail both ways. Forget her! Monday 3 Aug: consultant
duties at Diabetes Centre in Ratcliffe Inf. Saw ten patients. Lunch in
League of Fiends cafeteria. Forget her!
Attractive, clever, but perhaps hard st reek somewhere?
Yes! Lewis felt pleased with his morning's work; and even more pleased with
his afternoon's work, after he'd typed up the notes, correcting four of the
six mis-spellings and tidying up one or two of the punctuation al blemishes.
There remained quite a bit of checking to be done, but none of it would be
particularly onerous, and most of it probably unnecessary. The
general upshot was unambiguous. None of the Harrison clan had murdered Flynn
or Repp. Two of the three could have been on the scene when Ban-on was
killed but neither of them had murdered him, because no one had murdered him.
That was the only thing in the whole tragic business that now seemed wholly
incontrovertible.
chapter fifty-six Have I Got News For You! (TV programme tide) in nowise
was Lewis surprised to meet Dixon in the police canteen.
'Busy day?'
'Well, yes and no really. Morse rang me up early ' ' He what^' spluttered
Lewis.
'Well, early for me. Wanted me to check out on a few things, didn't he?'
'Such as?'
'Well, names of those going to lip-reading classes these last few years.'
'Simon Harrison, you mean?'
'Didn't say, did he? No problem, though. Just got the lists photocopied,
didn't I?'
'What else?'
'Well, funny really. He wanted me to find out who Flynn's dentist was ' ' He
what? '
'Well, easy that. Then to find out something about that Mrs Holmes you know,
before she was married .. . before she had her accident.'
Yes, Lewis could understand that.
'Then to ring that SOCO chap Andrews, the one who was out at Sutton
Courtenay. Ask him to get a bit of a move on
you know, give him a kick up the arse, like, about the fingerprints.
Morse got him to take Barron's, you knew that, didn't you? '
'Of course I knew that!' lied Lewis, euphoria fading fast.
'Well, there we are then. I suppose old Morse was just hoping, you know . .
.'
Yes, Lewis knew exactly what Morse had been hoping.
'Has Andrews found anything?'
'Well, still working on it, isn't he? Messy old job, he said. Soon as he
had any news though ... Anyway I called round and stuck the stuff through the
door. He was there, I reckon. The telly was on ' ' What? '
'Yeah, pretty certain of it. But he didn't come to the door. Odd sort of
chap, isn't he?'
But the introductory
'Well's and the inquisitorial clausulae, (hallmarks of every Dixon sentence)
had become too tiresome; and Lewis was glad when the canteen intercom cut
across the conversation: ' Message for Chief Inspector Morse or Sergeant
Lewis: Please ring Northampton SO COs immediately. I repeat. Message for.
. . '
Where are you, Dixon, in the hierarchy here? I'll tell you, mate.
Nowhere no bloody where that's where!
Yet Lewis left such ungracious thoughts unspoken, jumping to his feet and
leaving Dixon where he was, cheeks now jammed once more with a doughnut.
Two
