CHAPTER 21 -Something's unsettling

Part 1

After Joan had said a heartfelt goodbye to her Mum and Dad and thanked them for coming with a loving embrace to each of them, she returned to the party which was now just about to be ramped up a few notches. The few 'older' guests who were there, including her parents, having now tactfully withdrawn from the scene, the party could really start to kick off and the music volume went up appreciably and the hard liquor was brought out and liberally distributed. Joan appeared out of the blue by the side of Morse and Strange, smiling broadly, with a large glass of red wine in her hand.

'Well, your Mum and Dad certainly put on a terrific show for us all, didn't they, Joanie?' said Strange, smiling back at Joan. Joan nearly choked on her wine as she burst out laughing.

'Didn't they just?' she replied. 'I think they took everyone by surprise. I suspect not many people here have ever seen traditional ballroom dancing before.'

'They clearly know their stuff,' added Morse who had been equally impressed by his guvnor and Mrs Thursday. 'How long have they have been doing ballroom dancing?' This was a side to DCI Thursday that he mostly kept well-hidden and was known only to a select few privileged people. Even those who were aware of the DCI's hobby had never seen him perform before, even for thirty seconds, so this afternoon's all too brief cameo display came as a real eye-opener to Morse and Strange. Not that they had any plans whatsoever to spread the news all around the station. This would be their little secret, the pair of them, one which they would enjoy being in the know about and which would set them apart from all the other officers at Cowley.

'Oh, years and years, I think. Even before I was born. They've always had a passion for it. You wouldn't think Dad could be so light on his feet, would you?'

She smiled at the two boys who laughed nervously back, understanding the reference to her father's burly physical condition but not quite knowing if she was joking or being serious.

'You two boys should give it a go sometime,' she added with a glint in her eyes. 'I'm sure Dad would be only too pleased to give you some lessons.'

Jim Strange instantly looked horrified at the suggestion and Joan burst out laughing again to see his reaction.

'Oh, come on Jim. It won't kill you to give it a try! It's a brilliant way to lose weight. You'll never see an overweight ballroom dancer, believe me.'

'I like my food too much, Joanie, I'm afraid. I couldn't possibly give up my fry-ups…or my take-aways.'

'What about you, Morse?' Joan was determined to persist with the idea, if only for the fun of seeing their faces recoil in horror at her suggestion. 'I'd say you already have the right physique for the male lead.'

Morse shook his head apologetically with a rueful smile escaping from his lips. 'I don't think so, Miss…Joan,' he said. 'I don't have the requisite co-ordination for dancing, ballroom or otherwise. I have no sense of rhythm.'

'But you must have an ear for music, Morse, surely?' said Strange. 'With your love of opera and classical music? And you must have gone to loads of college hops and dances when you were up at Oxford.'

'A few,' admitted Morse, albeit reluctantly. 'Under protest, mostly. A girl I knew in college used to drag me along sometimes, to make up a four. I can do a passable Waltz and a fairly poor Foxtrot. That's about it.'

'Well, that's a start,' said Joan with a twinkle in her eyes. 'It's something to build on, at least. Perhaps I will have a word with Dad, after all.'

'Please don't trouble yourself on my account,' said Morse, half laughing, half panicking while he could see Strange out of the corner of his eye struggling to hold back a huge smirk. He couldn't work out if Joan intended it as a promise or a threat. He hoped it was the latter but if it was just a threat, what was supposed to be his side of the deal?

Joan left her final words hanging uncomfortably in the air and went off to re-join the rest of her party friends. Over the course of the next half hour, Morse and Strange indulged in idle chit chat with one or two people with whom they were vaguely acquainted. A couple of Joan's ex-colleagues at the Wessex Bank recognised Morse and came over for a bit of a natter and Strange struck up a conversation with Joan's boss at the charity where she worked. The two coppers worked their way through several more beers and mostly sat back and watched the rest of the guests dancing, including Joan who was now fully relaxed with her parents no longer keeping close tabs on her. She was clearly getting progressively more tipsy, although not completely drunk, Morse judged, and she was dancing with anyone and everyone as the evening progressed. At one point she did look over towards Morse and Strange and, with a big smile and a beckoning gesture of her head, invited each of them to join her on the dance floor but both men shook their heads and politely declined. Each was infinitely more comfortable being on the outside looking in, so to speak, rather than being in the thick of the action and getting a lot of undesired attention from everyone else.

Part 2

Strange got up to fetch some more drinks for the two of them, leaving Morse on his own for the first time since they had arrived at the party. He closed his eyes for what couldn't have been more than a few seconds and when he reopened them, Joan had disappeared from view and he was overcome with the weirdest sensation. He stared straight ahead and slowly took in everything he saw and heard, processing each image, each snapshot of time and space as if his eyes were a camera lens and he was recording each photograph for posterity. After he had recorded each camera image and stored them in his mind, he carried out a brief but thorough review of the ensemble and realised that he had been to this place once before.

This was the flat he had dreamt about when he had gone out on to the roof top in search of Joan, found her sitting on the edge and then had unsuccessfully tried to stop her from throwing herself off it. He was absolutely certain of it. Even some of the people whom he could see dancing, drinking or just talking a few feet away from him he now recognised from his dream even though he hadn't immediately recognised any of them when he and Strange arrived that afternoon. The layout of the large living room, where most of the people were gathered, the wall paper, the furnishings, the light fittings, everything in the room was now scarily familiar.

His chest started to tighten, and his breathing became a little laboured as he continued to be gripped by a terrible sense of déjà vu. He got up from his seat and slowly began to walk through the room, urgently searching for Joan but she was nowhere to be seen. He went through into the kitchen hoping desperately to find her there but without success. He knew she hadn't gone past him and out through the door that led to the stairs as he would have noticed her. He opened the door to the bedroom as surreptitiously as he could as he didn't want to draw unnecessary attention to his frantic search, but the room was empty. He checked the bathroom which was unlocked but there was no-one inside.

He went back into the lounge and started to ask one or two random people if they had seen Joan, but they all shook their head. Not in the last ten minutes, they all said. She was with them but then she had disappeared somewhere but they didn't know where. Suddenly he heard a man's voice behind him calling his name and he turned round to see who it was. A fair-haired guy, who couldn't have been more than twenty years old, was shouting at him above the din of the music and the chatter, asking if he was looking for Joan. Morse quickly nodded and the man pointed to a few steps that led up to a door that was half open and which, so the guy told him, led out on to the rooftop. She went through there about five minutes ago, he said.

With a heart that was now pounding like a drum and an appalling sense of trepidation and impending doom, Morse shot up the steps and went through the door out on to the rooftop. When he came out into the open air, he blinked a couple of times as his eyes got used to the bright sunlight. When his eyes had become accustomed and he had stopped blinking, he looked over towards the back of the rooftop and saw two figures standing close to each other at the edge of the roof. He recognised one of them immediately as Joan and the other one was a young man, quite tall with dark hair, wearing jeans and a sweater. Joan was standing on tiptoe and had her arms around the man's neck and was kissing him very passionately. They were both side on to Morse and were so engrossed in kissing each other that neither of them noticed him standing over by the door some twenty feet away.

Morse was transfixed to the spot, unable to take his eyes off Joan and this unidentified young man kissing, powerless to turn around and walk away from a sight that was difficult, even painful to observe. Joan briefly pulled away from the man's face and stared directly into his eyes, her smile as wide as a Cheshire cat before she moved her head into his again and repeated the passionate kiss as she clung on to him tightly. Morse looked away this time, unable to watch any longer and he decided to retreat while Joan still had no idea he was observing her. He turned around and moved back to the still half open door and quietly tiptoed down the short flight of steps and back into the flat. Unbeknownst to him, however, Joan must have heard the faintest scrape of his shoes on the rooftop since she pulled away from kissing the young man. Her head swung round, and her eyes darted over towards the entrance to the rooftop where she had the merest glimpse of a shadowy figure disappearing inside.

Morse's head was spinning when he got back inside, so much so that he felt an urgent need to sit down. He went back to his original spot over by the front door where Strange was patiently waiting with the drinks he had brought back for the two of them.

'I wondered where you'd got to, matey. I've got your beer here,' he said, holding out to Morse the glass of bitter he had poured out for him and Morse grabbed hold of it gratefully and took a huge swig from it, almost downing half the contents in one go.

'You look like you needed that,' remarked Strange who had seen Morse empty a whole pint in double quick time on a number of occasions before so was hardly surprised by his mate's apparent sudden thirst. He looked closely at Morse and was struck by how pale he seemed, not to mention the somewhat vacant, far away expression on his face as if he was lost in another world, far removed from the reality of this increasingly noisy and boisterous party. 'Are you alright, Morse?' he asked, a touch concerned for his friend.

'Fine,' said Morse unconvincingly. 'I…I just needed some fresh air, that's all. I felt a bit hot in here.'

'Well, the atmosphere's certainly hotting up and no mistake. I bet Joan's glad her folks aren't here anymore.' Strange smiled at Morse, the implication clearly being that nobody needed to be on their best behaviour now that the hostess's father and resident Chief Inspector had left. Hair could be well and truly let down without fear of instant reprisals. Not that there appeared to be any obvious signs that drugs were being taken or weed being smoked as far as Strange could see. No, the only visible signs of youthful debauchery appeared to be a steady increase in the alcohol intake and a plethora of couples draped around and across each other, kissing, fumbling and groping with an easy insouciance.

Morse nodded absent-mindedly at Strange's observation, but he was keeping a close eye on the other end of the room and especially the steps leading up to the door to the rooftop. After a minute or two of idle conversation between the two coppers, Morse's body suddenly stiffened as he saw Joan appear in the crowd of party revellers again, followed shortly after by the tall young, eminently kissable young man. He tried to observe her movements discreetly without making it terribly obvious that he was watching her. She exchanged a few words with various friends as she made her way over to the kitchen, presumably to pour herself another drink. He wondered if she would make her over to have another word with him and Jim, but she seemed quite content to mix with her other party guests and ignore the two coppers for the moment.

'You look miles away, matey,' said Jim Strange, noticing how quiet Morse had suddenly become, even by his standards. 'Something on your mind?'

Morse dragged his scrambled mind back to Strange and his mate's concerns for his well-being. 'Just a bit tired, that's all. I might make a move shortly if that's all right with you. But you don't need to leave on my account. By all means, stay a bit longer if you want to.'

'No, you're OK, Morse. I was thinking of making a move soon myself. Fancy picking up some fish and chips on the way home for supper?'

Morse nodded and the two of them sat in their chairs in virtual silence for the next few minutes, finishing their beers and idly watching the other guests drinking, dancing, shouting above the music and generally having a whale of a time. Morse couldn't get the image of Joan kissing this tall, young man out of his head and Strange was trying to decide if he was going to have cod, plaice or haddock for supper that evening. After draining the remains of their beer the two men nodded to each other, stood up and made their way into the packed crowd of people on the hunt for their hostess to thank her for the invite and for putting on such a great party.

They eventually found her and told her they were leaving, much to Joan's disappointment. 'Already?' she asked, and her eyes seemed to Morse to be pleading with them not to go just yet. 'But the party's only just got going. You boys are going to miss all the fun if you leave now. We've got all kinds of party games lined up. Musical Chairs, Pass the Parcel, Pin the Tail on the Donkey, Blind Man's Buff.'

Strange laughed and gave Joan an odd look. 'Don't you mean Blind Man's Bluff?'

'No, Jim. I know exactly what I mean, and I mean Blind Man's Buff!' She burst into a fit of giggles at the sight of Jim Strange's slightly embarrassed face and even Morse couldn't prevent himself from smiling a little at Joan's cheekiness and Strange's obvious awkwardness, despite still feeling dazed and confused about the disturbing scene he had witnessed only a short time ago.

'Well, there you are then,' said Strange recovering his poise and displaying the traditional English stiff upper lip. 'We're far too uptight and long in the tooth for raucous party parlour games, aren't we, Morse?'

Morse nodded in agreement. 'Thank you so much for the invite, Joan,' he forced himself to say. 'It's been a wonderful party.'

'Thank you for coming, both of you,' replied Joan and she leaned forward to give both men a hug, first Jim Strange, who was commendably less embarrassed this time compared to when Joan gave him a hug on arrival, followed by Morse who hesitated for a split second before returning the warm embrace that Joan gave him, holding on to him just a little longer than she had to Strange, if anyone was measuring the two hugs with a stop watch. 'I guess I'll catch up with the pair of you some time, ' said Joan and she waved them farewell as they took their leave and moved away to the front door, each more than happy to be escaping the now almost deafening din of the music, the heavy, cloying atmosphere and the smell of alcohol, hormones and sex which had begun to invade and permeate the flat.

Part 3

When Morse and Strange emerged from the chip shop, each holding an open bag of fish and chips in one hand while picking up chips and pieces of battered fish with the other with the aid of a small wooden fork, the air was fresh, the evening was still young and the cool, light breeze that blew across their faces was welcome for both men after the heavy, sticky atmosphere of the party they had not long since left.

'That was quite a fun afternoon, wasn't it?' remarked Strange in between voraciously stuffing his face with fish and chips. Morse nodded silently and indicated a bench a few yards away where he thought they could sit down and eat their supper in greater comfort and ease rather than trying to eat on the move.

'You were very quiet and pensive towards the end, matey. What was all that about?'

Morse had no intention of revealing to Strange the scene he had witnessed on the rooftop but didn't know quite what to say in reply that wouldn't arouse his colleague's curiosity and prompt even further questions that might be equally difficult to answer.

'Oh, nothing much,' he said. 'I think the volume of the music just started to make my head spin… and it got quite hot in the flat as well. I just became a bit tired as the afternoon wore on.'

'Joan certainly knows how to throw a good party, that's for sure,' said Strange as he continued to demolish his fish and chips at the rate of knots. He had almost finished his portion whereas Morse was barely halfway through the contents of his newspaper bag. 'It was nice to see the old man and his missus make an appearance. I wasn't expecting them to be there. I'm surprised Joan wanted them there, to be honest. But they seemed to enjoy themselves, all the same.'

Morse forced out a wry smile at Strange's astonishment that anyone over the age of forty could possibly have fun at a party attended mainly by twenty-somethings.

'They put on a good floor show for us all,' he said, staring off into the distance as he randomly and with measured tempo picked his way through his bag of chips.

'Didn't they just?' replied Strange with a chuckle as he finished off the last few morsels of fish and chips before nonchalantly throwing the crumpled up newspaper accurately into a rubbish bin at the end of the bench. 'It must take years of practice to be as good as they are, mustn't it?'

'I guess so,' said Morse absent-mindedly, but his mind wasn't on Fred and Win Thursday. He was still thinking about Joan Thursday and the guy he had caught her kissing on the rooftop. He wondered who he was and how long she had been intimate with him. Was it a serious relationship that had been going on for quite some time or just an extremely casual one, an intimate, fleeting friendship that would be over as quickly as it had begun? He wished he knew or at least could find out but there was no way of knowing the answer without asking Joan and he had no intention of embarrassing himself or her by bringing up the subject with her.

'Shall we make a move back?' suggested Strange who suddenly realised that he could absolutely murder a cup of tea or two as his mouth was very dry and he was feeling a little dehydrated after all the beer he and Morse had knocked back at the party.

Morse nodded again and the two of them got up and made off in the direction of home. While this was happening, back at the flat Joan was gradually getting more and more drunk and having a simply wonderful time doing so. She told herself that for the first hour or two she had been the perfect hostess, looking after all her guests as they arrived, attending to their needs ahead of her own and, in particular while her Mum and Dad were there, making sure she didn't drink too much and thus avoid doing something embarrassing which would have upset her parents. Now they had departed, she was left with only her circle of friends who knew her well enough not to judge her and reprimand her if she got smashed and made a bit of a fool of herself. Besides, most of them were now fairly the worse for wear themselves so she would be in very good company.

A couple of bottles of champagne had been brought to the party as a flat-warming present by a couple who were good friends of Joan and the glasses had been swiftly filled up and were being passed around the party revellers.

'Thanks, Michael,' said Joan as she was handed her glass of bubbly. 'That's a lovely present,' she gushed as she took a sip and her face positively glowed as the liquid hit the inside of her mouth and then the back of her throat.

'My pleasure,' said Michael and he was about to move on when he suddenly turned back, having just remembered something. 'Oh, by the way, did that guy find you?'

'What guy?' asked Joan, her eyes wide open with innocent ignorance.

'The guy who was looking for you. I told him I had seen you go out on the rooftop a few minutes earlier.'

Joan stared at Michael and her heart missed a couple of beats as she stood stock still in dread and apprehension.

'What did the guy look like, Michael?'

'Oh, let me see,' replied Michael, stopping to think hard for a moment. 'Um, average height, brown hair, well turned out…very earnest looking.'

Joan closed her eyes for a second and shuddered visibly. So it was Morse who had been there on the rooftop after all, as she had feared and suspected.

'Oh God. Did I do the wrong thing, Joan? Were you trying to avoid him? I'm really sorry, I didn't know.'

Joan shook her head and forced out an unconvincing smile. 'No, it's fine, Michael. Not a problem. You didn't do anything wrong.'

'Are you sure, sweetie? He looked like an okay sort of guy. Not someone who would cause you any bother.'

'He wouldn't, Michael. Everything's just fine,' she lied with consummate ease and Michael gave Joan a smile of relief before he moved on.

Now Joan needed a bit of peace and quiet to work out what she should do, if anything. She made her excuses and went outside on to the rooftop again, this time closing the door behind her so as not to give an easy invitation to anyone to follow her out there. She wanted to be alone for five minutes to think things through.

Part 4

The first thing that Strange did when he and Morse arrived back at the house was to put the kettle on. 'I'm positively gasping for a cuppa. Do you fancy one, matey?'

'Yes, please, Jim,' replied Morse, whose mouth was equally as dry as Strange's but perhaps not quite for the same reasons. He sat down at the kitchen table and watched Strange take out the cups and saucers, teapot, milk and tea strainer and lay them out carefully and neatly on the table in studious preparation.

'You got anything planned for the evening? Seeing your new young lady, perhaps?'

Morse shook his head. 'No, nothing,' he said impassively. 'I'll probably have an early night.'

'Yeah, I might turn in early, myself. Still, Saturday night, Morse. Black and White Minstrel Show followed by Match of the Day. Can't miss them, no matter how tired you're feeling!'

Morse grinned and nodded in silence. He would retire to his room and think about Joan mainly, he suspected, with perhaps a few stray thoughts of Veronica thrown in for good measure. He would have liked to have been able to be with her now, if truth be told. It would feel nice to hold her in his arms and kiss her, just like the unknown young man on the rooftop had done with Joan. Perhaps he would call her tomorrow morning and suggest they meet up in the afternoon, go for a stroll along the river or a walk around town if the weather was pleasant. Strange handed him his cup of tea and he was tempted to take it with him to his room but decided that would be a bit too rude to Jim who had been kind enough to make it for him. He could at least do him the courtesy of keeping him company a bit longer and drink it with him.

They talked for a little while about work and what they both had in store the following week after which Strange made himself another cup to take with him into the living room with the plan of settling down for an evening's entertainment in front of the television. Morse got up and was on his way upstairs to his room when all of a sudden the telephone rang. Both men looked at each other in surprise. They rarely received calls at home, and it was a rare occasion indeed when the phone rang.

'Are you expecting a call?' asked Strange with raised eyebrows to which Morse responded with a cursory shake of the head. Strange took the initiative and went out into the hall to pick up the phone. He spoke with the person on the other end of the line for a few seconds before holding the receiver out towards Morse.

'For you, matey,' he said. 'One of your women,' he added cryptically with a broad grin.

Morse looked puzzled and bewildered before Strange put him out of his misery. 'It's Joan.' Morse came over to Strange and took the phone off him then waited a few seconds for Strange to disappear into the living room with his cup of tea and half close the door behind him. Only when he was confident that Strange wouldn't be able to overhear his conversation, provided he didn't talk too loudly, did Morse speak.

'Hi Joan,' he said, hoping he didn't sound too surprised by her calling him at home, a thing she had never done before to his knowledge. 'Is everything OK?' He could hear the faint sounds of people talking and music playing in the background so guessed the party must still be in full swing. Why the urgent need to phone him, he wondered, so soon after he had left?

'Hi Morse,' said Joan. 'Sorry to be ringing you at home.'

'That's OK,' said Morse. 'Is anything the matter?'

'No…not really,' Joan sounded very hesitant and unsure of herself, thought Morse and he became slightly concerned how drunk she was and whether this might turn out to be one of those phone calls when the drink did all the talking instead of the person. 'I just wanted to ask you….' Her voice tailed off as if she was having to pluck up the courage to ask a difficult question and was wavering.

'Ask me what?'

'Morse…did you come looking for me on the roof top at some point this afternoon?

Morse remained silent for a while, uncertain whether to answer truthfully or be economical with the truth. He decided on the former path as he knew he was a pretty poor liar. 'Yes, I did. I was told you were out on the roof top, so I went looking for you. But when I saw you weren't alone, I turned round and went back inside straight away. I didn't want to disturb you.'

'How long were you on the rooftop?' Joan sounded worried by Morse's answer, not reassured and Morse decided he wouldn't be one hundred per cent honest with Joan in order to spare her any potential embarrassment.

'Oh, hardly any time at all,' he said, trying to sound sincere, relaxed and make light of the whole incident. 'Just long enough to see you weren't alone, that's all. A few seconds at most.'

'Right,' said Joan, feeling a touch more confident that Morse hadn't seen anything she would rather he hadn't.

'Why? Is there a problem, Joan?'

'No, absolutely not. I was just worried you may have had something important to say to me and I didn't want you to think I couldn't be bothered to get back to you and find out what it was.'

'No, it wasn't anything important, I promise you.'

'Oh, that's a relief,' said Joan, sounding much happier than when she had first spoken to him. 'Well, I'll let you get on, then. I'm sorry to have disturbed you.'

'That's okay,' said Morse, breathing a sigh of relief that he appeared to have got away with a small white lie for a change. 'I take it the party's still going strong, by the sound of it?'

'Oh, yes. I'm going to have such a sore head in the morning. I'll probably sleep all day.'

Morse chuckled, wished her goodnight and hung up the receiver. He hoped that his answers had been convincing enough for Joan not to be concerned that he had seen her kissing this other guy. The last thing he wanted was for her to feel guilty about what had happened. Afterall, as he reminded himself sharply, less than twenty-four hours earlier he had been with another woman and had been kissing her and all the rest, so he had no right to sit in judgement on Joan. Nonetheless, he couldn't help feeling several pangs of jealousy towards this unidentified young man who had been further with Joan that afternoon than he had ever been with her over a period of several years.