glass of the front door.
'Yes?'
'I hope I'm not disturbing you,' began Morse.
'Oh. Hullo, Inspector.'
'I thought. .'
'Won't you come in?'
Morse's decision to refuse the offer of a drink was made with such obvious reluctance that he was speedily prevailed upon to reverse it; and sitting behind a glass of gin and tonic he did his best to say all the right things. On the whole, he thought, he was succeeding.
Mrs. Ainley was small, almost petite, with light-brown hair and delicate features. She looked well enough, although the darkness beneath her eyes bore witness to the recent tragedy.
'Will you stay on here?'
'Oh, I think so. I like it here.'
Indeed, Morse knew full well how attractive the situation was. He had almost bought a similar house here a year ago, and he remembered the view from the rear windows over the green expanse of Port Meadow across to the cluster of stately spires and the dignified dome of the Radcliffe Camera. Like an Ackerman print, only alive and real, just two or three miles away.
'Another drink?'
'I'd better not,' said Morse, looking appealingly towards his hostess.
'Sure?'
'Well, perhaps a small one.'
He took the plunge. 'Irene, isn't it?'
'Eileen.'
It was a bad moment. 'You're getting over it, Eileen?' He spoke the words in a kindly way.
'I think so.' She looked down sadly, and picked some non-existent object from the olive-green carpet. 'He was hardly marked, you know. You wouldn't really have thought. .' Tears were brimming, and Morse let them brim. She was quickly over it. 'I don't even know why Richard went to London. Monday was his day off, you know.' She blew her nose noisily, and Morse felt more at ease.
'Did he often go away like that?'
'Quite often, yes. He always seemed to be busy.' She began to look vulnerable again and Morse trod his way carefully. It had to be done.
'Do you think when he went to London he was, er. .'
'I don't know what he went for. He never told me much about his work. He always said he had enough of it at the office without talking about it again at home.'
'But he was worried about his work, wasn't he?' said Morse quietly.
'Yes. He always was a worrier, especially. .'
'Especially?'
'I don't know.'
'You mean he was more worried — recently?'
She nodded. 'I think I know what was worrying him. It was that Taylor girl.'
'Why do you say that?'
'I heard him talking on the phone to the headmaster.' She made the admission guiltily as if she really had no business to know of it.
'When was that?'
'About a fortnight, three weeks ago.'
'But the school's on holiday, isn't it?'
'He went to the headmaster's house.'
Morse began to wonder what else she knew. 'Was that on one of his days off. .?'
She nodded slowly and then looked up at Morse. 'You seem very interested.'
Morse sighed. 'I ought to have told you straight away. I'm taking over the Taylor case.'
'So Richard found something after all.' She sounded almost frightened.
'I don't know,' said Morse.
'And. . and that's why you came, I suppose.' Morse said nothing. Eileen Ainley got up from her chair and walked briskly over to a bureau beside the window. 'Most of his things have gone, but you might as well take this. He had it in the car with him.' She handed to Morse a Letts desk diary, black, about six inches by four. 'And there's a letter for the accountant at the station. Perhaps you could take it for me?'
'Of course.' Morse felt very hurt. But he often felt hurt — it was nothing new.
