Tuesdays completely free. It had been his practice since he was appointed to take off Tuesday afternoons completely and he looked forward to a fairly gentle day.
The morning's activities went off well enough—even the singing of the hymns in assembly was improving—until 11.15 when Mrs. Webb received the telephone call.
'Is the headmaster there?'
'Who shall I say is calling, please?'
'Morse. Inspector Morse.'
'Oh, just a minute, sir. I'll see if the headmaster's free.' She dialled the head's extension. 'Inspector Morse would like a word with you, sir. Shall I put him through?'
'Oh. Er. Yes, of course.'
Mrs. Webb switched the outside call to the headmaster's study, hesitated a moment, and then quickly lifted the receiver to her ear again.
'. . . hear from you. Can I help?'
'I hope you can, sir. It's about the Taylor girl. There are one or two things I'd like to ask you about'
'Look, Inspector. It's not really very convenient to talk at the minute—I'm interviewing some of the new pupils this morning. Don't you think it would be . . .' Mrs. Webb put the phone down quickly and quietly, and when Phillipson came out her typewriter was chattering along merrily. 'Mrs. Webb, Inspector Morse will be coming in this afternoon at three o'clock, so I shall have to be here. Can you arrange some tea and biscuits for us?'
'Of course.' She made a note in her shorthand book. 'Just the two of you?'
'No. Three. He's bringing a sergeant along—I forget his name.'
The anonymous sergeant himself was spending the same morning at the old people's home in Cowley, and finding Mr. Joseph Godberry (in small doses) an interesting sort of fellow. He had fought at Mons in the '14-18 War, had slept, by his own account, with all the tarts within a ten mile radius of Rouen, and had been invalided out of the army in 1917 (probably from sexual fatigue, thought Lewis). He reminisced at considerable length as he sat by his bed in D ward, accepting his present confinement with a certain dignity and good humour. He explained that he could hardly walk now and recounted to Lewis in great detail the circumstances and consequences of his memorable accident
In fact the 'accident', together with Mons and Rouen, had become one of the major incidents of his life and times; and it was with some difficulty that Lewis managed to steer Joe's thoughts to the disappearance of Valerie Taylor. Oh, he remembered her, of course. Very nice girl, Valerie. In London, bet your bottom dollar. Very nice girl, Valerie.
But could Joe remember the day she disappeared? Lewis listened carefully as he rambled on, repeating with surprising coherence and accuracy most of what he had said in his statement to the police. In Lewis's opinion, he was a good witness, but he was becoming tired and Lewis felt the moment had come to put the one question which Morse had been so eager for him to ask.
'Do you remember by any chance if Valerie was carrying anything when you saw her that day— the day she disappeared?'
Joe moved uneasily in his chair and slowly turned his rheumy old eyes on Lewis. Something seemed to be stirring there and Lewis pressed home the point.
'You know what I mean, a carrier bag, or a case, or anything like that?'
'Funny you should say that,' he said at last. 'I never thought about it afore.' He looked as though he were about to haul out some hazy memory on to the shores of light, and Lewis held his breath and waited. 'I reckon as you're right, you know. She were carryin' something. That's it. She were carryin' a bag of some sort; carryin' it in 'er left hand, if me memory serves me correck.'
In Phillipson's study formalities were exchanged in friendly fashion. Morse asked polite questions about the school—quite at his best, thought Lewis. But the mood was to change swiftly.
Morse informed the headmaster that he had taken over the Taylor case from Chief Inspector Ainley, and the
The morning's activities went off well enough—even the singing of the hymns in assembly was improving—until 11.15 when Mrs. Webb received the telephone call.
'Is the headmaster there?'
'Who shall I say is calling, please?'
'Morse. Inspector Morse.'
'Oh, just a minute, sir. I'll see if the headmaster's free.' She dialled the head's extension. 'Inspector Morse would like a word with you, sir. Shall I put him through?'
'Oh. Er. Yes, of course.'
Mrs. Webb switched the outside call to the headmaster's study, hesitated a moment, and then quickly lifted the receiver to her ear again.
'. . . hear from you. Can I help?'
'I hope you can, sir. It's about the Taylor girl. There are one or two things I'd like to ask you about'
'Look, Inspector. It's not really very convenient to talk at the minute—I'm interviewing some of the new pupils this morning. Don't you think it would be . . .' Mrs. Webb put the phone down quickly and quietly, and when Phillipson came out her typewriter was chattering along merrily. 'Mrs. Webb, Inspector Morse will be coming in this afternoon at three o'clock, so I shall have to be here. Can you arrange some tea and biscuits for us?'
'Of course.' She made a note in her shorthand book. 'Just the two of you?'
'No. Three. He's bringing a sergeant along—I forget his name.'
The anonymous sergeant himself was spending the same morning at the old people's home in Cowley, and finding Mr. Joseph Godberry (in small doses) an interesting sort of fellow. He had fought at Mons in the '14-18 War, had slept, by his own account, with all the tarts within a ten mile radius of Rouen, and had been invalided out of the army in 1917 (probably from sexual fatigue, thought Lewis). He reminisced at considerable length as he sat by his bed in D ward, accepting his present confinement with a certain dignity and good humour. He explained that he could hardly walk now and recounted to Lewis in great detail the circumstances and consequences of his memorable accident
In fact the 'accident', together with Mons and Rouen, had become one of the major incidents of his life and times; and it was with some difficulty that Lewis managed to steer Joe's thoughts to the disappearance of Valerie Taylor. Oh, he remembered her, of course. Very nice girl, Valerie. In London, bet your bottom dollar. Very nice girl, Valerie.
But could Joe remember the day she disappeared? Lewis listened carefully as he rambled on, repeating with surprising coherence and accuracy most of what he had said in his statement to the police. In Lewis's opinion, he was a good witness, but he was becoming tired and Lewis felt the moment had come to put the one question which Morse had been so eager for him to ask.
'Do you remember by any chance if Valerie was carrying anything when you saw her that day— the day she disappeared?'
Joe moved uneasily in his chair and slowly turned his rheumy old eyes on Lewis. Something seemed to be stirring there and Lewis pressed home the point.
'You know what I mean, a carrier bag, or a case, or anything like that?'
'Funny you should say that,' he said at last. 'I never thought about it afore.' He looked as though he were about to haul out some hazy memory on to the shores of light, and Lewis held his breath and waited. 'I reckon as you're right, you know. She were carryin' something. That's it. She were carryin' a bag of some sort; carryin' it in 'er left hand, if me memory serves me correck.'
In Phillipson's study formalities were exchanged in friendly fashion. Morse asked polite questions about the school—quite at his best, thought Lewis. But the mood was to change swiftly.
Morse informed the headmaster that he had taken over the Taylor case from Chief Inspector Ainley, and the
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