The Norfolk Mystery (The County Guides) (23 page)

‘Deputy Detective Chief Inspector is fine,' said the detective.

‘Oh, really, we can drop the Norfolk Constabulary?'

‘Yes.'

‘Well, if you're sure, Deputy Detective Chief Inspector. You have my full and undivided attention.'

‘I don't know if you've seen today's papers, Mr Morley?'

‘Yes, I think so, Deputy Detective Chief Inspector,' said Morley, who had read and carefully filleted them for information and facts by the time I'd come down for breakfast.

‘You write for the papers, isn't that right, Mr Morley?
Daily Herald
, isn't it?'

‘That's correct, Deputy Detective Chief Inspector. Though I also write for the
Morning Post
,
The Times
, the
Daily Telegraph
, the
Daily News
, the
Daily Chronicle
, the
Daily Express
and the
Daily Mail
. As well as the
Daily Herald
.'

‘A busy man.'

‘I'm a terribly disorganised man, actually, Deputy Detective Chief Inspector, truth be told, rather than busy, though I must admit I have always been lucky in finding places to publish.'

‘Yes. Well, I'm sure that is the case, Mr Morley, for a man like yourself who's clearly prepared to write for anyone about anything.' The detective's voice was becoming raised and his face slightly flushed. I noticed the head waiter hovering closely at a nearby table, whose diners were staring across at us with a look of some alarm.

‘I wouldn't say that exactly,' said Morley, who was breathing through his nose, I noted, in a manner I recognised; it was a technique he said he'd learned on his travels, from a Buddhist monk, and was guaranteed to calm a chap when under verbal or physical assault. ‘I'm not terribly good on sport, for example. Or horoscopes – the press now publish the daily influences of the stars as calmly as if it were the weather forecast, don't they? Not something I entirely approve of, I must admit. Are you a reader of the horoscopes at all?
Astra non mentiuntur, sed astrologi bene mentiuntur
, eh?'

The detective glanced at me at this point, clearly looking for a referee, realising that Morley's techniques and rules of conversation were not entirely the same as other men's, and that the thing was getting away from him. I smiled at him benignly, and he threw down a conversational anchor.

‘There seems to be some suggestion in the papers, Mr Morley, that the police may require assistance in investigating the suicide of the reverend.'

‘Is that right?'

‘Yes. Suggestions in an article by you, in fact, Mr Morley.'

‘Ah.'

‘In today's
Daily Herald
.' The volume was raised once again. More diners glanced across. The head waiter remained hovering.

I hadn't seen the article.

‘I didn't mean to give that impression at all, Deputy Detective Chief Inspector.'

‘Well, that's what it read like to me, sir.'

‘That is really most regrettable, then.'

‘We see very little crime around here, Mr Morley.' You could now have heard a proverbial pin drop in the restaurant. Knives and forks had been retired and laid to rest.

‘Due in large part no doubt to your careful stewardship, Deputy Detective Chief Inspector. Like Adam in the Garden.'

‘I like to think so,' said the detective, unable for a moment to work out whether this was a compliment or not. I wasn't sure myself. It was not, as it turned out; as Morley now made abundantly clear.

‘It is a pity then, that like the serpent, sin seems to have entered paradise on its belly, as it were, and one of your most prominent figures in the community has died such a horrible death.'

‘Yes. But a suicide is not something that we can—'

‘If it is suicide,' said Morley, not unaware, it seemed to me, that he now had as his audience the entire restaurant, its diners and its staff.

‘Which it is,' said the detective.

‘You say so, Deputy Detective Chief Inspector.'

‘I do.'

‘Yes. But I wonder …' Morley paused, and milked the moment, twirling a moustache-end. ‘If there might perhaps be more to it.'

‘Do you now, Mr Morley? And I wonder, sir, if you have been reading too many books.'

Morley laughed, something that – despite his continual good humour – he rarely did. The laugh echoed around the restaurant, rattling off the windows, and startled the head waiter into action. He began loudly instructing the other waiting staff in their duties, moving from table to table with words of calm for the diners. A hubbub arose. Our exchange returned to a private conversation. ‘It has certainly been said before, Inspector, and I must admit that I'm no stranger to the delights of the written word. Was it Johnson who described himself as a ruminant of reading? Sefton?'

‘I don't know, Mr Morley. Sounds like Johnson, certainly,' I said.

‘Well, whoever said what, Mr Morley' – the detective spoke with lowered voice now – ‘I would prefer it if you would leave the police work to us professionals, and you keep your theories to yourself, stay out of the papers and stick with your books.'

‘Of course.'

‘We have a job to do.'

‘Indeed. And I have the highest respect for the police profession, may I say,' said Morley. ‘Awe, even. Some of my favourite people in the world are policemen.'

‘Really.'

‘Yes. Monsieur Chevalier Dupin. Eugène Valmont. Inspector Hanaud. Do you know Inspector Hanaud?'

‘I can't say I do, Mr Morley.'

‘Pity. You'd like him. Very smart. Very intuitive. Much like yourself, Deputy Detective Chief Inspector.'

‘Well, perhaps, Mr Morley, given the high regard you claim to hold for our profession, you might show us the respect of leaving our work to us, sir?'

‘I certainly shall, Deputy Detective Chief Inspector. I certainly shall.'

‘Part of which will be to investigate your own involvement in the discovery of the reverend's body.'

‘Of course. In which matter you are assured of our utmost assistance.'

‘Good.' The detective seemed satisfied. But Morley was not.

‘And can I ask when we might be able to expect to be able to leave Blakeney and go about our business?'

‘I can't say at the moment, Mr Morley, I'm afraid.'

‘Would it perhaps speed matters along at this stage if I were to offer a little information?'

‘What information?'

‘Well, what with us having been first on the scene and what have you, I wondered if—'

‘If you have information, Mr Morley, relating to this crime, you are obliged to inform us.'

‘Well, it's not really information so much as a suggestion, Deputy Detective Chief Inspector.'

‘A suggestion?'

‘Yes. Or a set of suggestions.'

‘Really?' The detective looked as though all and any suggestions of Morley's about anything and of any kind would be thoroughly unwelcome. Of course, this didn't stop Morley.

‘I'm sure you have dealt with suicides, during your time as a policeman?'

‘Sadly I have, yes, Mr Morley.'

‘And in your experience, what would be the main reasons for someone taking their own life?'

‘General weariness of life,' said the detective. ‘Obviously.'

‘Something with which I'm sure we can all identify,' said Morley.

‘Some more than others,' said the detective, rather wittily, I thought.

‘Indeed. Any other reasons that you've come across?'

‘Mental illness.'

‘Insanity, you mean?' said Morley.

‘Imbecility,' said the inspector.

‘Ah, yes.'

‘Or idiocy.'

‘Mental illness and idiocy being not quite the same thing, though, obviously,' said Morley.

‘I speak as I find, Mr Morley.'

‘I'm sure you do, Inspector, though neither idiocy nor mental illness applies, presumably, in the case of the Reverend Bowden.'

‘Not as far as I'm aware,' said the inspector.

‘So I wonder if there might be other reasons that you can think of, why someone commits suicide?'

‘I'm not that interested in these larger philosophical questions, Mr Morley, to be honest. I'm a policeman.'

‘But a philosopher's profession, surely?'

‘I hardly think so, Mr Morley, no.'

‘The pursuit of truth and justice? The application of method to mystery? The examination and interrogation of evidence?'

‘Anyway,' said the detective. ‘The reverend killed himself, and that's unfortunate.'

‘But the question of why remains,' insisted Morley.

‘The question of why is none of our business, Mr Morley.'

‘Really? How curious, coming from an officer of the law.
Omnia causa fiunt
.'

‘You keep speaking Italian, Mr Morley, a language I do not understand.'

‘My apologies,' said Morley. ‘One can hardly expect a deputy detective chief inspector for the Norfolk Constabulary also to be a linguist. I mean simply that everything has a cause, which might tell us about the effect. I'm sure that we can agree on that.'

‘Of course.'

‘Good. So perhaps you'll indulge me for a moment—'

‘I think you'll find that I already have, Mr Morley.'

‘Indeed you have, sir. Indeed you have. Very generous. And for so little in return. Sure I can't interest you in some trifle? Coffee?'

‘No, thank you.'

‘What was your verdict on the trifle, Sefton?'

‘Excellent,' I said.

‘Too much cream,' said Morley. ‘And we shall have to overlook the sherry. But anyway. Let us imagine, Deputy Detective Chief Inspector, shall we, that we have a little collection of suicides: a dead man, say; a dead woman; another dead man; another dead woman.'

‘Yes …' It was unclear to the detective, and indeed to me, where Morley was going with this latest analogy. It was getting late. The restaurant was emptying.

‘Can you picture them in your mind, Deputy Detective Chief Inspector for the Norfolk Constabulary?'

‘Not really, no, Mr Morley.'

‘Precisely. But let us imagine now that one of the men is an ex-soldier, say, who has suffered illusions of persecution. He has returned from a war, is unable to resume his previous life, and found himself unable to manage.' Morley glanced meaningfully at me across the table. I looked away. Rearranged my napkin. ‘And that one of the women, say, is a religious woman, middle-aged, husband dead, has been suffering from dementing visions. And that the other woman was a servant girl found hanging in a … pantry, say, having been found out in adultery with her employer. And that the other man was a … farmer? Yes, a farmer, who hanged himself in his barn because of money troubles. Do you begin to get a picture of all these people now? Able to distinguish between them, these suicides? Understand who they are? Why they acted as they did?'

‘Yes, of course.'

‘Well, there we are, you see, Deputy Detective Chief Inspector.
Multum in parvo
.
Minima maxima sunt
,
and what have you.'

‘What?'

‘Details. Details, details, details. And as with these others, so with the reverend. Everything we can know about him matters in assisting us to find the cause of his death, and to find the cause of his death is to solve the mystery of his death.'

‘Not that there is a mystery,' said the detective, whose fists remained as clenched, and whose jaw as set as when he had first sat with us what seemed a long time ago.

‘Ah, well, in that matter we shall perhaps have to agree to disagree.'

The head waiter approached the table.

‘Can I offer you gentlemen any tea or coffee? Anything else to eat or drink?'

‘No, thank you,' said Morley. ‘Deputy Detective Chief Inspector?'

‘No, thank you.'

‘Sefton?'

‘No, thank you.'

‘Good. No, thank you,' said Morley to the waiter. ‘I think we're almost done here.'

We were indeed almost done, the detective most thoroughly done, though Morley insisted on tormenting him with some further observations as he got up to leave.

‘Would you mind if I consulted my notebooks for a moment?' he said. ‘I took the liberty of jotting down a few thoughts on the subject of suicide.'

‘Well …'

‘Just a moment. I have so much enjoyed our conversation.' Morley fished one of his German notebooks from his jacket pocket. ‘Good. Ah. Yes.' He ran his finger down the page, as if adding up a grocery bill. ‘Suicide. Reasons for. Have you ever come across any cases of derangement accompanying religious ecstasy or excitement?'

‘Not personally, Mr Morley.'

‘And the reverend was not – as far as you know – given to visions and such like? I was just wondering, what with him being a religious man.'

‘No.'

‘I'm just ticking off my list here, Deputy Detective Chief Inspector. Other reasons for suicide … Bodily affliction, perhaps? Illness? Was the reverend suffering from any?'

‘Again, I don't know, Mr Morley.'

‘Vices.'

‘Vices? Such as?'

‘Such as drunkenness. Sorrow and grief over others – he was a clergyman after all. He was unmarried. We're sure he was not a homosexual?'

‘I hardly think—'

Morley held up a finger and continued reading. ‘I'm not suggesting these are the reasons. I am merely suggesting
possible
reasons, Deputy Detective Chief Inspector. Financial distress. Remorse. Shame … Oh, I can hardly read my own writing here … Sefton, what does that say?'

He handed the notebook over to me. There was nothing written on the page.

I glanced at Morley, bewildered. He stared back.

‘I can't quite make it out, Mr Morley, I'm afraid.'