Last Seen Wearing

'Yes thanks. I don't go drinkin' much.'

They walked into the buffet, where he ordered a double whisky for himself, and for her a Coke and a packet of twenty Benson & Hedges. 'Here we are.'

She seemed genuinely grateful. She quickly lit herself a cigarette and quietly sipped her drink. The time ticked on, the minute hand of the railway clock dropping inexorably to the half hour. 'Well, I'd better get on to the platform.' He hesitated a moment, and then reached beneath the seat for his brief-case. He turned towards her and once again their eyes met. I enjoyed meeting you. Perhaps we'll meet again one day.' He stood up, and looked down at her. She seemed more attractive to him each time he looked at her.

She said: 'I wish we could be naughty together, don't you?'

God, yes. Of course he did. He was breathing quickly and suddenly the back of his mouth was very dry. The loudspeaker announced that the 8.35 shortly arriving at Platform One was for Reading and Paddington only; passengers for. . But he wasn't listening. All he had to do was to admit how nice it would have been, smile a sweet smile and walk through the buffet door, only some three or four yards away, and out on to Platform One. That was all. And again and again in later months and years he was bitterly to reproach himself for not having done precisely that.

'But where could we go?' He said it almost involuntarily. The pass at Thermopylae was abandoned and the Persian army was already streaming through.

CHAPTER ONE

Beauty's ensign yet

Is crimson in thy lips and in thy cheeks,

And death's pale flag is not advanced there.

(Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet, Act V)

THREE AND A HALF years later two men were seated together in an office.

'You've got the files. Quite a lot of stuff to go on there.'

'But he didn't get very far, did he?' Morse sounded cynical about the whole proposition.

'Perhaps there wasn't very far to go.'

'You mean she just hopped it and — that was that'

'Perhaps.'

'But what do you want me to do? Ainley couldn't find her, could he?'

Chief Superintendent Strange made no immediate answer. He looked past Morse to the neatly docketed rows of red and green box-files packed tighdy along the shelves.

'No,' he said finally. 'No, he didn't find her.'

'And he was on the case right from the start.'

'Right from the start,' repeated Strange.

'And he got nowhere.' Strange said nothing. 'He wasn't a fool, was he?' persisted Morse. What the hell did it matter anyway? A girl leaves home and she's never seen again. So what? Hundreds of girls leave home. Most of them write back to their parents before long — at least as soon as the glamour rubs off and the money has trickled away. Some of them don't come home. Agreed. Some of them never do; and for the lonely waiters the nagging heartache returns with the coming of each new day. No. A few of them never come home. . Never.

Strange interrupted his gloomy thoughts. 'You'll take it on?'

'Look, if Ainley. .'

'No. You look!' snapped Strange. 'Ainley was a bloody sight better policeman than you'll ever be. In fact I'm asking you to take on this case precisely because you're not a very good policeman. You're too airy-fairy. You're too. . I don't know.'

But Morse knew what he meant. In a way he ought to have been pleased. Perhaps he was pleased. But two years ago. Two whole years! 'The case is cold now, sir — you must know that. People forget. Some people need to forget. Two years is a long time.'

'Two years, three months and two days,' corrected Strange. Morse rested his chin on his left hand and rubbed the index finger slowly along the side of his nose. His grey eyes stared through the open window and on to the concrete surface of the enclosed yard. Small tufts of grass were sprouting here and there. Amazing. Grass growing through concrete. How on earth? Good place to hide a body — under concrete. All you'd need to do. . 'She's dead,' said Morse abruptly.

Strange looked up at him. 'What on earth makes you say that?'

'I don't know. But if you don't find a girl after all that time — well, I should guess she's dead. It's hard enough hiding a dead body, but it's a hell of a sight harder hiding a living one. I mean, a living one gets up and walks around and meets other people, doesn't it? No. My guess is she's dead.'

'That's what Ainley thought.'

'And you agreed with him?'

Strange hesitated a moment, then nodded. 'Yes, I agreed with him.'

'He was really treating this as a murder inquiry, then?'

'Not officially, no. He was treating it for what it was — a missing-person inquiry.'

'And unofficially?'