The Jewel That Was Ours

'Where did you pick him up?'

'North Oxford.'

'Expensive ride!'

'I didn't ask for—'

'You took it.'

'Not short of a quid or two though, these Yanks—'

'I quite like the Yanks.'

'Me too, officer.'

'There's a bottle there' (Morse pointed back to Reception). 'Leukaemia Fund. Doesn't look as if it's quite full yet.'

'How much?'

'Twenty?'

Shrugging, the taxi-man handed Morse two of the ?10 notes.

'Where was it in North Oxford? What was the address?'

'I forget.'

'Shall we make it twenty-five?'

'Down the bottom of Hamilton Road, somewhere — ninety-seven, I think it was.'

'Name?'

'Same name as mine. Huh! Coincidence, eh?'

'I've always liked coincidences.'

'She rang up an' said, you know, take this fellah down to The Randolph.'

'Good! Thanks! Good night then, Mr., er. '

'Williams. Jack Williams.'

Lewis had pulled in behind the taxi, and was in time to find Morse slowly — reluctantly? — pushing two ?10 notes into the slot of a Charity Bottle. He smiled happily. Morse had a bit of money — he knew that, but the chief's generosity, certainly in pubs, was seldom in evidence; and it was most reassuring to find that there was an unexpectedly munificent side to the chief inspector's soul. So Lewis watched, and said nothing.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Duty is what one expects from others; it is not what one does one's self

(Oscar Wilde, A Woman of No Importance)

IT WAS NOT DIFFICULT for Lewis to find his way to the Kemps' home in Cherwell Lodge, the ground-floor flat on the extreme right of the three-storey building, since it was the only window in the whole street, let alone the block of flats, wherein electric light still blazed at a quarter to one that morning. By this time, Lewis had shown Morse the yellow A4 sheet; and Morse had seemed so delighted with it that he'd turned on the car's internal light in transit. He folded the sheet along its original creases, and was putting it inside his breast-pocket as Lewis quietly pulled the car alongside the pavement outside number 6.

'We can ring from there—be easier really,' suggested Morse, pointing to the Kemps' property. 'We'll need a WPC — there should be one at HQ, don't you think?'

Lewis nodded.

'And a doc,' continued Morse. 'Her doc, if he's not too far sunk in slumber or wine.'

Again Lewis nodded. 'You're right, sir. The more the merrier, isn't it, with this sort of thing? It's about the only time I really hate the job, you know — with accidents and so on. having to tell the relatives, and all that.'

It was Morse's turn to nod. 'Always hard, isn't it, Lewis? I hate it too, you know that.'

'Well, at least there are the two of us tonight, sir.'

'Pardon?'

'I said, at least with the two of us—'

'No! Only you, Lewis. We can't waste precious resources at this unearthly hour.'

'You mean you're not—'

'Me? I'm just going to walk round to, er, talk to our other witness.'

'Who's that?'

'That, Lewis, is Mrs. Sheila Williams. She could very well have something vital to tell us. It was Mrs. Williams, remember, who ordered the taxi—'

'But she'll be in bed!'

By not the merest flicker of an eyebrow did Morse betray the slightest interest in the prospect of interviewing an attractively proportioned and (most probably) scantily clad woman at such an ungodly hour.