Morse was sitting alone in the duty room, pondering the evidence gathered from his latest case. Normally, all such artefacts were locked in the evidence room when the duty inspector clocked off, but tonight it was different. A bin fire caused by an errant cigarette had resulted in the evidence room being rendered uninhabitable, and a desk Sergeant being transferred to the Outer Hebrides. Until the room was repaired, all evidence was to be locked in the investigating officer's filing cabinet – Thursday had taken the envelope from Morse's desk and locked it away with an apologetic grimace, leaving Morse to examine his mental images of the items.
On this occasion, the killer had got clumsy, and left some vital evidence behind – a fake mustache and a lock of ginger hair in the victim's clenched fist. At first, Morse was pretty confident of an early arrest – there were two suspects sporting redhead locks. However, with double negative DNA tests, and Jakes increasingly snide comments about testing all the ginger people of Oxford (Including Morse's own dubious locks), the young constable was growing ever increasingly frustrated.
Jeanie Brocks had been murdered whilst walking home through a park. Her handbag still contained her money and valuables, so clearly robbery wasn't the motive. According to her friends and family, she didn't have any enemies, and hadn't been involved in any altercations in the past few years. She was all in all a quiet, guarded person, so Morse was struggling to find any rhyme or reason to her death.
As a distant clock struck 1am, Morse thought he heard a noise from the corridor outside the outer duty room, and when he got up and looked the door was open. Morse distinctly remembered Jakes slamming it on his way out after his latest snide jibe about Morse's neglected reports, so he got up to go and investigate.
He crept through the room, his pounding heartbeat echoing in his mouth and the sound of silence ringing in his ears. Suddenly, he sensed someone rise up behind him and spun round, his heart racing wildly.
"Strange! What are you doing here? Apart from frightening me half to death," Morse was clutching one hand over his heart, and only now became aware of the fact that his other hand was holding a heavy glass paperweight.
"Sorry Morse, I was walking past and I thought I heard movement, so I came in to see what was what." Strange was eyeing the paperweight Morse was holding, his own hand still on the handle of his baton.
"That was me, coming to look for the noise I heard in the corridor, which was you," Morse put the paperweight down, and started stroking his chin to give his hands something to do.
"Ah ok, guess we've both earned our jobs huh?" Strange's grin was met by a small smile from Morse.
"Ok matey, I'm on nightshift, so I'd best be off. You want to stop by my desk for a cuppa before you head off?" Strange started walking towards the door.
"Uhh thanks, but I think I'll stay for a little while longer." Something was bothering Morse about the evidence, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it.
"Ok, night then Matey," Strange turned and walked away, and by the time Morse came out of his reverie to return the greeting, his colleague was gone.
What strange had failed to mention was that the door was already open when he arrived. What Morse had failed to notice was that one of the cupboard doors was slightly ajar.
As he turned to walk back to his desk, once again he sensed someone behind him, but this time he wasn't quick enough to turn and get his arm up to protect himself. Instead, the full force of the paperweight came crashing down on his skull. Morse saw the ground rushing up to meet him, then there was darkness.
