The Jewel That Was Ours

statement, surely.'

Morse stared in front of him, his eyes a-glitter: 'He's a liar, Stratton is; he's a bloody liar!'

'Is — is that a 1990 magazine?' asked Lewis diffidently.

Morse turned to the colourful cover, then placed the magazine back casually into the door-pocket.

'Well, sir?'

'September 1988,' said Morse, very quietly indeed.

'What's it all mean?' asked Lewis, as he sat at the table, with a pint of Brakspear for Morse and a half of the same for himself. He had never understood why Morse almost always expected him to buy the beer. It was as though Morse believed that he, Lewis, was on some perpetual expense-account.

'You mean about Mrs. Kemp?'

'I mean about everything. I just don't know what's happening.'

'You think I do?'

'I thought you might have an idea.'

'Perhaps I have.' He drained his pint with extraordinary rapidity. 'Is it your round or mine?'

Lewis walked over to the bar with the single glass — almost happily.

Whilst he was gone, Morse turned to the back of The Times and had filled in the whole of the bottom right-hand quarter of the crossword when Lewis returned two minutes later.

'Do you always do crosswords that way round, sir?'

'Uh? Oh, yes! I always try solving problems by starting at the end — never the beginning.'

'I shall have to try that sometimes.'

'I didn't know you did crosswords, Lewis?'

'Yes! Me and the missus, we usually try to do the Daily Mirror Quick Crossword of an evening.'

'Oh!' said Morse, though without much wonderment in his voice. 'Well, let me tell you something. If I'm doing a crossword, and I think I'm getting stuck—'

'Not that you do, sir.'

'No. Not that I do — not very often. But if by some freak mischance I do get a bit stuck, you know what I do?'

'Tell me!'

'I stop thinking about the problem. Then, when I come back to it? No problem at all!'

'Have we got a problem, sir?'

'Oh yes! That's why we need the break — the drinking break.'

Morse took an almighty swig from his replenished pint, leaving only an inch of beer in the glass. 'Our problem is to find the connection between the theft of the jewel and the murder of Kemp. Once we find that. So the best thing to do is to think of something completely different. Tell me about something, Lewis — something that's got nothing to do with Mrs. Kemp.'

'I was just thinking about those betting-slips, sir. They've got the time on them — the time the bet was placed.'

'I said something different, Lewis! Anything. Tell me anything! Tell me the name of your first girl-friend! Anything!'

'I can't, sir. Not for the minute. I just think I let Mrs. Kemp down. in a way.'

'What the hell are you talking about? It's me who let her down! How many times did you tell me I ought to see her?'

'Why do you think she tried.?'

'How the hell do I know!'

'Just asked, that's all.'

'All right. What do you think?'

'I suppose she just felt life wasn't worth living without him — without her husband.'

'You didn't feel that, though, when you met her, did you? From what you told me, you seemed to feel the opposite: life might have been worth living if he wasn't there.'

Yes, Lewis knew that Morse was right. He'd felt the anger and the bitterness of the woman — far more than any sense of anguish or loss. He knew, too, that his lack of sleep was beginning to catch up with him.

'You talk about giving your mind a rest, sir, but I shall have to give my body a bit of a rest soon. I'm knackered — absolutely knackered!'

'Go home, then! What's stopping you? I can always get Dixon—'

'I don't want to go home, sir. We've got the decorators in and I keep getting nagged about getting new carpets and new curtains and—'