The Dead of Jericho

Almost all of them wrong.

Chapter Fourteen

Chaos preceded Cosmos, and it is into Chaos without form and void that we have plunged.

– John Livingston Lowes, The Road to Xanadu

Mrs. Gwendola Briggs was very soon aware of the different nature of the beast when, on the following Monday, Morse, after a rather skimped day's work at the Thames Valley HQ, finally found time to pursue his unofficial and part-time course of enquiries. This man (it seemed to Gwendola) was quite u

'Oh, yes. There was something else a little unusual about that night, Inspector. You see, it was our first a

'I’m sorry. I didn't mean to- Oh dear! What a tragedy it all is!'

'Did you meet last week, Mrs. Briggs?'

'Yes, we did. We meet every-'

'You didn't feel that because of the er tragedy that-'

'Life must go on, mustn't it, Inspector?'

Morse's sour expression seemed to suggest that there was probably little justification for such continuance in the case of this mean-minded little woman, doubtless ever dreaming of over-tricks and gleefully doubling the dubious contracts of the recently initiated. But he made no answer as his eyes skimmed down the list she had given him. 'Mrs. Murdoch'! Was that the same one? The same Mrs. Murdoch who had invited him to the party when he and A

As he finally took his leave, he realised how less than gracious he'd been to the chairman of the Summertown Bridge Club.

When the door opened, Morse recognised one of the Murdoch boys he'd seen at the party, and his memory struggled for the name.

'Michael, is it?'

'No. I'm Ted.'

'Oh, yes. Is your mother in, Ted?'

'No. She's gone down to the hospital. It's Michael.'

'Road accident?' What made Morse suggest such a possible cause of hospitalisation, he could not have said; but he noticed the boy's quite inexplicable unease.

'No. He's-he's been on drugs.'

'Oh dear! Bad, is he?'

The boy swallowed. 'Pretty bad, yes.'

Things were begi

Morse took the plunge. 'Weren't you due for a lesson with Ms. Scott the day she committed suicide?' His eyes left the boy's face not for the flutter of an eyelash as he asked the brutal question; but, in turn, the boy's brown eyes were unblinking as a chameleon's.

'Yes, I was.'

'Did you go?'

'No. She told me the previous week that she-wouldn't be able to see me.'

'I see.' Morse had noticed the hesitation, and a wayward fancy crossed his mind. 'Did you like her?' he asked simply.

'Yes, I did.' The voice, like the eyes, was firm-and oddly gentle.

Morse was tempted to pursue the theme, but switched instead to something different.

'A-levels this year?'

The boy nodded. 'German, French, and Latin.'

'You confident?'

'Not really.'

'Shouldn't worry too much about that,' said Morse in an objectionably avuncular tone. 'Overrated quality confidence is.' (Weren't those the words of Mrs. Murdoch, though? Yes, the memories of the night were stronger now.) 'Hard work-that's the secret. Put your foot through the telly, or something.' Morse heard himself drooling on tediously, and saw the boy looking at him with a hint of contempt in those honest eyes.

'I was working when you called, actually, Inspector.'

'Jolly good! Well, I er I mustn't interrupt you any longer, must I?' He turned to leave. 'By the way, did Ms. Scott ever say anything to you about her-well, her private life?'

'Is that what you wanted to see mum about?'

'Partly, yes.'

'She never said anything to me about it.' The boy's words were almost aggressive, and Morse felt puzzled.

'What about your brother? Did he ever say anything?'

'Say anything about what?'

'Forget it, lad! Just tell your mother I called, will you? And that I'll be calling again, all right?' For a few seconds his harsh blue eyes fixed Edward's, and then he turned around and walked away.

It says little for Morse's thoroughness that Miss Catharine Edgeley (next on his list and living so close to the Murdochs) was to be the last of the bridge party destined to be interviewed. Yes, she realised now, there was something that might be valuable for him to know: A

'Why didn't you give it to Mrs. Murdoch?'

'I’m not sure, really. I think, yes, I think she left just a bit before the others. Perhaps her table had finished and if she wasn't in line for any of the prizes… I forget. Anyway, A