The Dead of Jericho

you in the first place-especially over that wretched parking ticket. Though goodness knows how…' He shook his head as if in disbelief. 'You must have some sharp-eyed policemen in the force these days.'

But Morse was too involved to look unduly smug, and Richards continued, his shoulders sagging as he breathed out heavily.

'Let me tell you the truth, Inspector. Anne Scott worked for me for several years, as you know. She was a very attractive girl-in her personality as well as in physical looks-and when we went away on trips together-well, I don't need to spell it all out, do I? I was happily married-in a vague sort of way, if you know what I mean-but I fell for Anne in a big way, and when we were away we used to book into hotels as man and wife. Not that it was all that often, really-I suppose about five or six times a year. She never made any great demands on me, and there was never really a time when we seriously thought of, you know, my getting a divorce and all that.'

'Did your wife know about it?'

'No, I honestly don't think she did.'

'So?'

'Well, I suppose like most people we-we perhaps began to feel after a while that it wasn't all quite so marvellously exciting as it had been; and when Anne decided it would be better if she left-well, I didn't object too strongly. In fact, to tell you the truth, I remember feeling a huge sense of relief. Huh! Odd, isn't it, really?'

'But you wrote to each other.'

Richards nodded. 'Not all that often-but we kept in touch, yes. Then last summer, when I moved up here, we suddenly found we were pretty near each other again, and she wrote and told me she could usually be free at least one afternoon a week and I-I found the temptation altogether too alluring, Inspector. I went to see her-several times.'

'You had a key?'

'Key? Er, no. I didn't have a key.'

'Was the door unlocked on the afternoon we're talking about?'

'Unlocked? Er, yes. It must have been, mustn't it? Otherwise-'

'Tell me what you did then, sir. Try to remember exactly what you did.'

Richards appeared to be reading the runes off the carpet once more. 'She wasn't in-well, that's what I thought. I called out, you know, sort of quietly-called her name, that is…'

'Go on!'

'Well, the place seemed so quiet and I thought she must have gone out for a few minutes, so-I went upstairs.'

'Upstairs?'

Richards smiled sadly, and then looked squarely into Morse's eyes. 'That's right. Upstairs.'

'Which room did you go in?'

'She had a little study in the back bedroom- Look! You know all this anyway, don't you?'

'I know virtually everything,' said Morse simply.

'Well, we normally had a little drink in there-a drop of wine or something-before we-we went to bed.'

'Wasn't that a bit risky-in broad daylight?'

There was puzzlement and unease in Richard's eyes for a moment now, and Morse pondered many things as he waited (far too long) for the answer.

'It's always risky, isn't it?'

'Not if you pull the curtains, surely?'

'Ah, I see what you mean!' Richards seemed suddenly relaxed again. 'Funny, isn't it, that she hadn't got round to putting any curtains up there?'

(One up to Richards!)

'What happened then, sir?'

'Nothing. After about twenty, twenty-five minutes or so, I began to get a bit anxious. It must have been about half-past three by then, and I felt something-something odd must have happened. I just left, that's all.'

'You didn't look into the kitchen?'

'I'd never been into the kitchen.'

'Had it started raining when you left, sir?'

'Started? I think it had been raining all the afternoon-well, drizzling fairly heavily. I know it was raining when I got there because I left my umbrella just inside the front door.'

'Just on the right of the door as you go in, you mean?'

'I can't be sure, Inspector, but-but wasn't it on the left, just behind the door? I may be wrong, though.'

'No, no, you're quite right, sir. You must forgive me. I was just testing you out, that's all. You see, somebody else saw the umbrella that afternoon-somebody who'd poked his nose into that house during the time you were there, sir.'

Richards looked down at his desk and fiddled nervously with a yellow ruler. 'Yes, I know that.'

'So, you see, I just had to satisfy myself it was you, sir. I wasn't sure even a minute ago about that; but I am now. As I say, your car was seen there, your black umbrella just behind the door, your dark blue mackintosh over the banisters, and the light in the study. It wouldn't have been much good lying to me, sir.'

'No. Once I knew you'd found out about the car, I realised I might as well come clean. I was a fool not to-'

'You're still a fool!' snapped Morse.

'What?' Richards's head jerked up and his mouth gaped open.

'You're still lying to me, sir-you know you are. You see, the truth is that you weren't in Jericho at all that afternoon!'

'But-but don't be silly, Inspector! What I've just told you-'

Morse got to his feet. 'I shall be very glad if you can show me that mackintosh you were wearing, sir, because whoever it was who was in Anne Scott's house that afternoon, he was quite certainly not wearing a blue mackintosh!'

'I-I may have been mistaken-'

'You've got a dark blue mackintosh?'

'Yes, as a matter of fact, I have.'

'Excellent!' Morse appeared very pleased with himself as he picked up his own light-fawn raincoat from the arm of the chair. 'Have you also got a dark grey duffle coat, sir? Because that's the sort of coat that was seen on the banister in Anne Scott's house. And it was wet: somebody'd just come into the house out of the rain, and you told me-unless I misunderstood you, sir?-that there was no one else in the house.'

'Sit down a minute!' said Richards. He rested his chin on the palms of his hands and squeezed his temples with the ends of his fingers.

'You've been lying from the beginning,' said Morse. 'I knew that all along. Now-'

'But I haven't been lying!'

Suddenly Morse's blood surged upwards from his shoulders to the back of his neck as he heard the quiet voice behind him.

'Yes you have, Charles! You've been lying all your life. You've lied to me for years about everything-we both know it. The odd thing is that now you're lying to try to save me! But it's no good, is it?' The woman who had been seated behind the table in the office outside now walked into the room and sat on the edge of the desk. She turned to Morse: 'I'm Celia Richards, the wife of that so-called 'husband' behind the desk there. He told me-but he'd no option really-that you were coming here today, and he didn't want Josephine, his normal secretary-and for all I know yet another of his conquests,' she added bitterly, 'he didn't want her to know about the police, and so he got me to sit out there. You needn't worry: it was all perfectly amicable. We had it all worked out. He'd told me you'd be asking about Jericho, and we decided that he'd try to bluff his way through. But if he didn't quite manage it-you did pretty well, you know, Charles!-then I agreed to come in. You see, Inspector, he left the intercom on all the time you've been speaking, and I've listened to every word that's been said. But it's no good any longer-is it, Charles?'