The Remorseful Day

Chapter twenty

Already, an hour or so before driving out to see Debbie Richardson, it had been an unusual morning for Sergeant Lewis.

Morse had insisted on buying the second round in the Woodstock Arms, albeit one consisting only of one pint of Morrell’s Best Bitter for himself, since as yet Lewis was only halfway down his obligatory orange juice.

Unusual? Yes. And quite certainly surprising.

“Do you really mean it — about the car number, sir?”

“Just be patient!”

“What do you think I am being?”

“You say the car was darkish, newish, toppish range?”

“Like I said, I was really concentrating on the bus.”

“Be more specific, man! Go for it. Back your hunches!”

“All right: black; R-Reg.; twenty thou.”

“That’s better.”

Lewis smiled dubiously. “Thank you.”

“And how many people in that car of yours? One? Two? Three?”

“Certainly one, sir.”

“We’ll make a detective of you yet,” mumbled Morse, leaning forward as he buried his nose in the froth.

“Could’ve been two, I suppose. I can’t really remember but... you know, it was a bit like one of those cars going off on a family holiday, you know what I mean?”

“No.”

“Well, you know—”

“For Christ’s sake stop saying ‘you know’!”

“Well, you’ve got things packed everywhere, haven’t you? Not just cases and things but nappies, bedding, towels, boots, wellingtons, thermoses, carrier bags — all piled up so you can hardly see out of the back window.”

“What sort of bags?”

Lewis was trying hard to revisualize the scene, and fortunately Morse had picked on the one thing that finally jogged his fading memory. Bags! Yes, there’d been bags in the back of that car: bags you could stick all sorts of things inside. And suddenly the picture had grown clearer:

“Black bags!”

“You think he was off to the rubbish dump?”

“Could’ve been. ‘Waste Reception Area,’ by the way, sir.”

“Where’s the biggest rubbish dump in Oxfordshire?”

“Or in Oxford, perhaps?” Lewis’s face had brightened. “Redbridge. People go there from all over the county — straight down the A34 — then turn off—” But Lewis stopped. “Forget it, sir. From Bullingdon you’d turn on to the A41, and then straight on to the A34. You wouldn’t go into Bicester at all.”

“And you’re quite sure the car went into Bicester?”

“That’s one thing I am sure about.”

“If only you’d concentrated on that car, Lewis, and forgotten all about the bus!”

“I just don’t understand why you’re so interested in the car. Repp was on the bus.”

“So you keep saying,” said Morse quietly. “But you’re not right, are you? Repp wasn’t on the bus.”

“Not when he got to Oxford, no.”

“You lost him. You might as well face it.”

Lewis drained his orange juice. “Yep! I agree. I lost him. And that’s exactly why I need a bit of help.”

“Like the number of that car, you mean?”

“I think you’re having me on about that.”

“Oh no. And if you think it’ll help...”

Morse took out his pen and pushed his empty glass across the table: “Your round! And pass me your notebook.”

A minute later, Lewis stared down at Morse’s small, neat handwriting:

And incredulity vied with amazement in his face as Morse continued quietly: “You know, you weren’t your usual sharp self this morning, were you? You failed to observe the car in front of you — and you failed to observe the car behind you.”

“ You — you don’t mean...?”

“I do mean, yes. I was right behind you this morning. But being the law-abiding citizen I am, I instructed my driver to keep an appropriately safe distance from the vehicle in front.”

“I just don’t believe this. I just don’t understand.”

“Easy, really. I thought it wouldn’t be a bad idea to keep an eye on our Mr. Repp, just like Strange did. So I rang up the prison Governor, an old friend of mine, and told him what I was intending to do; and he said there was no need because he’d had a call from Strange setting up your surveillance. So I just told him to forget it — told him we’d got some crossed wires — came out in an unmarked car, like you did — parked in the visitors’ area — listened to Mahler’s Eighth — and watched and waited. And took a flask of coffee — yes, coffee, Lewis — and the rest is history.”

“You’re having me on!”

“Oh no! How the hell do you think I could give you that car number unless I’d seen the bloody thing? You don’t think I’m psychic or something, do you?”

Lewis reflected on this extraordinary new development. Then slowly formulated his thoughts aloud. “You saw the car in front of me. You saw who was in it and what was in it—”

“Black plastic bags, yes. You were right.”

“—and you saw the Registration Number.”

“Only just. You know, I’ll have to see an optician soon.”

“You told me off for saying ‘you know’,” snapped Lewis.

Morse curled his right hand lovingly round his beer glass. “Sometimes, you don’t fully appreciate my help, you know.”

Lewis let it go. “And you knew the car went into Bicester, to the bus station. You knew it all the time.”

“Yes.”

“So when I went to get a paper you saw Repp get out of the bus and get into the car. But you didn’t tell me — oh no! You just left me to go on a wild goose chase after the bus. Well, thank you very much.”

For a while Morse was silent. Then: “How many times have I been to the Gents this morning?”

“Twice since you’ve been here.”

“Six times in all, Lewis! And the reason for such embarrassingly frequent retirements is not any lack of bladder control. It’s those diuretic pills they’ve put me on.”

The light slowly dawned; and Sergeant Lewis suddenly looked a happy man. “The thermos, sir? Three cups of coffee in that, say?”

Morse nodded. Not a happy man.

“So when you got to Bicester bus station you were dying for a leak and you saw the Gents’ loo there, and when you came out — the car was gone. Right?”

Reluctantly Morse nodded once more. “And we followed you, you and the bus, back to Oxford.”

A gleeful Lewis looked as if he’d won the Lottery. “You really should have kept your eyes on that car, sir!”

“You mean the black R-reg Peugeot, Lewis? You were right, by the way: £19,950 licensed and on the road, so they inform me. Not far off, were you?”

“And the owner?”

“Some insurance broker in Gerrard’s Cross reported it missing two days ago.”