Last Seen Wearing

'Wonder what, sir?'

Morse was looking into the far distance, through the office window, and into the filmy blue beyond, excitement glowing in his eyes. 'I was just wondering if she was carrying a bag of some sort when old Joe Godberry saw her.'

Lewis looked as mystified as he felt, but received no further elucidation. 'You see,' said Morse, his eyes gradually refocusing on his sergeant, 'you see, if she was, I'm beginning to think that you're wrong.'

'Wrong, sir?'

'Yes, wrong. You said you thought Valerie Taylor was still alive, didn't you?'

'Well, yes. I think she is.'

'And I think, think, mind you, that you're wrong, Lewis. I think that Valerie Taylor is almost certainly dead.'

CHAPTER SEVEN

And French she spak ful faire and fetisly,

After the scole of Stratford atte Bowe,

For French of Paris was to hir unknowe.

(Geoffrey Chaucer, Canterbury Tales)

DONALD PHILLIPSON ARRIVED in school at 8.00 on Tuesday morning. The Michaelmas Term had been under way for one full week now and things were going well. The anti-litter campaign was proving moderately successful, the new caretaker seemed an amenable sort of fellow, and the Parent-Teacher Association had (somewhat surprisingly, he thought) backed him up to the hilt in his plea for a more rigid ruling on school uniforms. On the academic side only four members of staff had left in the summer (one quarter the previous year's total), the GCE and CSE results had been markedly better than before, and the present term saw the first full intake of thirteen-plus pupils, among whom (if junior-school headmasters could be believed) were some real high-flyers. Perhaps in a few years' time there would be one or two Open Awards at Oxbridge. . Yes, he felt more than a little pleased with himself and with life this Tuesday morning. The only thing that marred the immediate prospect was a cloud, rather larger than a man's hand, on the not-so-distant horizon. But he felt confident that he would be able to weather whatever storm might break from that quarter, although he must think things through rather more carefully than he had done hitherto.

At 8.20 the head boy and the head girl would be coming to his study, as they did each morning, and there were several matters requiring his prompt attention. He heard Mrs. Webb come in at 8.15, and Baines at 8.30. Punctuality was sharper, too. He did a small amount of teaching with the sixth form (he was an historian), but he kept Tuesdays completely free. It had been his practice since he was appointed to take off Tuesday afternoons completely and he looked forward to a fairly gentle day.

The morning's activities went off well enough — even the singing of the hymns in assembly was improving — until 11.15 when Mrs. Webb received the telephone call.

'Is the headmaster there?'

'Who shall I say is calling, please?'

'Morse. Inspector Morse.'

'Oh, just a minute, sir. I'll see if the headmaster's free.' She dialled the head's extension. 'Inspector Morse would like a word with you, sir. Shall I put him through?'

'Oh. Er. Yes, of course.'

Mrs. Webb switched the outside call to the headmaster's study, hesitated a moment, and then quickly lifted the receiver to her ear again.

'. . hear from you. Can I help?'

'I hope you can, sir. It's about the Taylor girl. There are one or two things I'd like to ask you about'

'Look, Inspector. It's not really very convenient to talk at the minute — I'm interviewing some of the new pupils this morning. Don't you think it would be. .' Mrs. Webb put the phone down quickly and quietly, and when Phillipson came out her typewriter was chattering along merrily. 'Mrs. Webb, Inspector Morse will be coming in this afternoon at three o'clock, so I shall have to be here. Can you arrange some tea and biscuits for us?'

'Of course.' She made a note in her shorthand book. 'Just the two of you?'

'No. Three. He's bringing a sergeant along — I forget his name.'

The anonymous sergeant himself was spending the same morning at the old people's home in Cowley, and finding Mr. Joseph Godberry (in small doses) an interesting sort of fellow. He had fought at Mons in the '14–18 War, had slept, by his own account, with all the tarts within a ten mile radius of Rouen, and had been invalided out of the army in 1917 (probably from sexual fatigue, thought Lewis). He reminisced at considerable length as he sat by his bed in D ward, accepting his present confinement with a certain dignity and good humour. He explained that he could hardly walk now and recounted to Lewis in great detail the circumstances and consequences of his memorable accident

In fact the 'accident', together with Mons and Rouen, had become one of the major incidents of his life and times; and it was with some difficulty that Lewis managed to steer Joe's thoughts to the disappearance of Valerie Taylor. Oh, he remembered her, of course. Very nice girl, Valerie. In London, bet your bottom dollar. Very nice girl, Valerie.

But could Joe remember the day she disappeared? Lewis listened carefully as he rambled on, repeating with surprising coherence and accuracy most of what he had said in his statement to the police. In Lewis's opinion, he was a good witness, but he was becoming tired and Lewis felt the moment had come to put the one question which Morse had been so eager for him to ask.

'Do you remember by any chance if Valerie was carrying anything when you saw her that day— the day she disappeared?'