The Jewel That Was Ours

'Good morning, madam!' Lewis showed his ID card. 'Is Mr. Downes in, please? Mr. Cedric Downes?'

Lucy looked momentarily startled: 'Oh! Good Lord! He's not here, I'm afraid, no! He's been showing some Americans round Oxford this morning — and he's got a lecture this afternoon, so. Er, sorry! Can I help? I'm his wife.'

'Perhaps you can, Mrs. Downes,' interposed Morse. 'We spoke earlier on the phone, if you remember? May we, er, come in for a little while?'

Lucy glanced at her watch. 'Yes! Yes, of course! It's just'—she held the door open for them—'I'm just off to — whoops!'

Morse had knocked his shin against a large suitcase standing just inside the door, and for a moment he squeezed his eyes tight, the whiles giving quiet voice to a blasphemous imprecation.

'Sorry! I should have — that wretched case! It's bitten me twice this morning already. Sorry!'

She had a pleasing voice, and Morse guessed that her gushy manner was merely a cover for her nervousness.

Yet nervousness of what?

'I'm just on my way,' continued Lucy. 'London. Got to change some curtains. A friend recommended a reasonably priced shop near King's Cross. But you really can't trust any of the stores these days, can you? I quite specifically ordered French pleats, and then — oh, sorry! Please sit down!'

Morse looked around him in the front living room, slightly puzzled to find the carpet, the decoration, the furniture, all that little bit on the shabby side, with only the curtains looking bright and new, and (in Morse's opinion) classy and tasteful. Clearly, in any projected refurbishment of the Downes's household, Lucy was starting with the curtains.

'I'd offer you both coffee but the taxi'll be here any time now. Cedric usually takes me to the station—' she giggled slightly, 'I've never learned to drive, I'm afraid.'

'It's purely routine, madam,' began Morse, sitting down and sinking far too far into an antiquated, unsprung settee. 'We just have to check up everything about yesterday.'

'Of course! It's awful, isn't it, about Theo? I just couldn't believe it was true for a start—'

'When exactly was that?' Morse asked his question in a level tone, his eyes, unblinking, never leaving hers.

She breathed in deeply, stared intently at the intricate pattern on the carpet, then looked up again. 'Cedric rang up from The Randolph just before he came home. He said — he said he shouldn't know himself really, but one of the people there, the tour leader, told him and told him not to say anything, and Cedric'—she breathed deeply again—'told me, and told me not to say anything.'

'Bloody Ashenden!' muttered Morse silendy.

'His poor wife! How on earth—?'

'How many other people did you tell?'

'Me? I didn't tell anyone. I haven't been out of the house.'

Morse glanced at the phone on the table beside the settee, but let the matter rest. 'Dr. Kemp tried to talk to your husband yesterday lunchtime.'

'I know. Cedric told me. He came back here.'

'What time was that?'

'One-ish? Quarter-past one — half-past?'

'He came back for his spare hearing-aid?'

Lucy was nodding. 'Not only that, though. He picked up some notes as well. I forget what they were for. Well, I don't really forget. I never knew in the first place!' She smiled nervously, and (for Lewis) bewitchingly, and (for Morse) heart-eatingly. 'Anyway he just grabbed some papers — and he was off again.'

'With his spare hearing-aid, too?'

She looked up at Morse with her elfin grin. 'Presumably.'

'I thought the NHS only issued one aid at a time.'

'That's right. But Cedric's got a spare — two spares in fact. Private ones. But he always votes Labour. Well, he says he does.'

'He's not all that deaf, is he, Mrs. Downes?'

'He pretends he's not. But no, you're right, he's not that bad. It's just that when he talks to people he gets a bit frightened. Not frightened about not knowing the answers but frightened about not hearing the questions in the first place.'

'That's very nicely put, Mrs. Downes.'

'Thank you! But that's what he says. I'm only copying him.'

'What time did he get home last night?'

'Elevenish? Just after? But he'll be able to tell you better than me.'

The door bell rang; and in any case the three of them had already heard the steps on the gravel.

'Shall I tell him to wait a few minutes, Inspector? He's a bit early.'