CHAPTER 36 -Something's conclusive

Part 1

When Morse finally came out of the library, he found he badly needed to take in some deep breaths of fresh air to stop his head from spinning and to decelerate his fast beating heart. As he stood there on the steps to the library, gulping in heavy gasps of air in a concerted attempt to steady his scrambled mind and summon up the necessary courage to take the required next steps, he pondered what his immediate first move should be.

His initial inclination was to go directly to meet the person he now knew to be the killer head on, without procrastination, however uncomfortable and unpleasant this confrontation was almost certain to be. His instinct was to go there alone, without any form of back up as he was concerned that if he turned up in force, with a full complement of officers in close attendance, this might frighten the guilty party into doing something rash and unwise which he was desperate to avoid. But if he did that and something horrible did happen nonetheless, he knew he would come under heavy criticism, not to mention almost inevitably he would become the subject of an internal disciplinary enquiry which in all probability would not end well for him. As shattered as he was to have uncovered the awful truth, he still had his future as a police detective to consider. There was a far bigger picture at stake than his current difficult situation and life would inevitably go on after the events of the next twenty-four hours. He understood he had to do the sensible and correct thing. He had to be the consummate professional, the dedicated and committed police detective that he had always tried to be, now more so than ever before.

He swiftly went back to where he had parked his car, sat down inside and picked up his police radio. He paused for a few moments, deliberating exactly what he was going to say before calling the station and asking to speak to DCI Thursday. It wasn't long before the unmistakeable voice of his superior came over the airwaves loud and clear.

'What is it Morse? What have you found out?'

'I know who it is, Sir,' said Morse, trying to keep his voice calm and controlled, although his stomach was churning deep down inside and his throat felt desperately dry.

'Who is it, Morse?' Thursday demanded to know, tempering his excitement and allowing Morse to tell the story in his own time and at the pace of his choosing. Morse gave him the name and waited in breathless silence for Thursday's reaction which he suspected would be a mixture of disbelief and scepticism.

'What? Are you sure?'

'I wish I was wrong, Sir, believe you me. I wish I had got it all wrong but I'm certain I haven't. Everything fits. All the clues Vera Cooper left us. The motive, the means, the opportunity, they're all there, Sir.'

'Where are you?' Thursday looked across at DS Strange, who had just entered his office having heard Thursday's raised voice, and he nodded meaningfully at the detective sergeant.

'Outside the library, Sir. I'm going straight over to where she works to pick her up. I can't imagine I need any back up. I don't think she's a threat any more, not to me or anyone else for that matter but….'

'I don't care, Morse. You're going to get proper armed back up whether you like it or not. I'm not going to take any chances. We're talking about a double murderer here, don't forget.'

Morse hung his head in abject misery. He knew Thursday was right. Armed back up to apprehend and arrest a dangerous murderer in a public place was completely the right call and followed all correct police procedures but he would have wanted to avoid creating a potential Gunfight at the OK Corral more than anything else. Not that he imagined for one minute that their killer was likely to be armed with a gun or any dangerous weapon that could be turned on an officer of the law, never mind an innocent member of the public who happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

'If you say so, Sir,' said Morse with great reluctance, the pain in his voice coming across loud and clear to Thursday at the other end of the line.

'Yes, I do say so,' said Thursday with grim determination. He knew all too well how overly sensitive Morse could be at times and how painful such difficult confrontations had proved to be in the past when Morse and the killer had developed a platonic relationship. At least he hoped to God it had only been platonic. Christ knows where they would stand if it had been any more than that but he would deal with that problem should it arise, which he hoped would be never. 'You get yourself over there and you wait for us to turn up, do you hear me? No bloody heroics from you, Morse! I want this arrest to go by the book, you understand?'

'Yes, Sir,' muttered Morse under his breath.

'Morse! Did you hear what I said?'

'Yes, Sir,' Morse repeated his agreement rather more loudly this time and Thursday breathed a sigh of relief, satisfied that the sergeant had indeed heard his clear instructions to stand back and wait for the cavalry to arrive.

'We'll be there as quick as we can. Just get yourself over there and wait.' With that final, reinforced instruction delivered, Thursday hung up and issued immediate instructions to Strange to get together a squad of half a dozen officers, all properly trained in firearms use and await the go ahead to equip themselves with appropriate weapons from the station's armoury. Thursday himself hotfooted it to Mr Bright's office to update him on Morse's findings and obtain the Chief Super's approval and authority for the issue of firearms to a carefully selected band of officers on standby. He didn't care what Morse thought of the potential danger involved. He wasn't having any of his men turning up to arrest a double murderer without the necessary protection, both for themselves and the wider public at large.

The last thing he wanted was a bloody shoot-out in the middle of the city but he was equally determined that none of his officers would be caught empty-handed and exposed to who knew what dangers from a ruthless killer who had already brutally murdered two people without a hint of remorse or regret.

Part 2

'Is everyone ready and appropriately armed, Thursday?' asked CS Bright as he entered the main CID room where the carefully selected team of firearms officers, including DCI Thursday and DS Strange, were awaiting his arrival, having just finished their briefing meeting which had been swiftly conducted by Thursday.

'Yes, Sir,' said Thursday, his face betraying the seriousness and gravity of the situation. It was always a big moment when a firearms operation was called into play and this one was certainly no exception. The faces of all the officers were tense and solemn even if their extensive training had made them more than ready and willing for the potentially dangerous operation they were about to participate in.

'Right. Let's get over there without further delay and carry out our duty with the utmost professionalism and skill, as you have always done' said Mr Bright, keen to rally his troops with a few well-chosen words of support as was his wont.

The officers quickly left the building, led by DCI Thursday and piled into two police vans parked outside the building in the car park. Waiting for them inside one of the vans were DC Fancy and WPC Trewlove who, despite not having received the requisite firearms training to be part of the armed response team, had nonetheless been added to the delegation of officers selected to attend the scene for the purposes of assisting with cordoning off the immediate area and making sure the public were kept well away from the danger zone. As Strange climbed into the back of one of the vans with Thursday, he looked at Fancy and Trewlove with an expression of extreme anxiety and apprehension which was mirrored in the eyes of his two colleagues. They had been informed of the suspect that they were going to arrest and the news had filled both of them with horror and disbelief which left them still dazed and largely silent.

The two vans moved swiftly away from the car park and out onto the road while the officers sitting inside fell eerily silent as they proceeded to their intended destination. Nobody was talking much although a few glances and encouraging nods were exchanged in an attempt to concentrate minds on the task at hand. They had all been given their instructions, they all knew their respective jobs and it was just a case of carrying them out with precision, clarity and the utmost professionalism. They had been told the carrying of weapons was merely a sensible precaution as a dramatic shoot-out was not expected but the men knew from their vast experience that it was folly to take anything for granted. Expect the unexpected and plan for the worst case scenario was the order of the day.

Whilst the two police vans were making their way over to the city centre, Morse was standing nervously outside the Town Hall, impatiently tapping his foot and glancing every so often at his watch. It had been nearly half an hour since he had spoken with DCI Thursday and he was anxious to get this over and done with as soon as possible. He was itching to move inside the building and confront the killer but he knew he had to wait for the back-up to arrive otherwise his boss would have his guts for garters for wantonly disobeying a direct order. Everything around him seemed normal. It was an ordinary day in the city with hundreds of people going about their normal business, completely unaware of the drama that was shortly to unfold before their eyes. Morse took in all the sights and sounds of the activity around him, his eyes keenly observing the myriad comings and goings of the citizens of Oxford, looking for any signs that something might be untoward or which might represent a threat to the imminent police operation.

Initially all seemed serene and calm until he suddenly became aware of a small group of people who had gradually congregated together about fifty yards away from him over the previous few minutes. He realised that this group had become very animated, with a lot of gasping, yelling and pointing upwards to the sky above his head. He decided to go over to the group of people and find out what was causing the commotion since he could see nothing from where he was standing that could have caused such consternation.

He showed his warrant card immediately on arriving amongst the group of bystanders and asked them what was the reason for them all to be gathered together and looking so concerned.

'Look up there, officer,' said a middle-aged woman who had taken it upon herself to be the unofficial spokesperson for the whole group. She pointed with a raised right hand and protruding index finger up into the sky above and behind Morse's head. Morse's eyes followed her hand and the anxious gazes of the whole group and finally saw what was causing all the people gathered there so much anxiety. 'There's someone on the roof of the Town Hall,' said the woman, her trembling voice revealing her anxiety. 'It looks like a young woman from here,' said an elderly man, screwing up his eyes to get a better sight of the person hovering around the edge of the roof.

Morse instinctively knew the man was right and equally instinctively knew it could only be one person who might have cause to be up on the Town Hall roof and standing by the edge, looking down on the scene below. Without even a parting word of reassurance to the worried group of bystanders, Morse ran like the clappers back over to the Town Hall and shot up the steps and into the building. Once inside, he flew up the stairs at a rate of knots and raced along the corridors to the Town Planning Department, in a state of breathlessness and extreme agitation. There was a woman sitting at the reception desk whom he recognised from the last time he had been there a couple of days ago. He didn't stand on ceremony and introduce himself politely and calmly as he would normally have done.

'Where is Veronica Roberts?!' he demanded furiously, although in his heart he knew the answer already.

The woman looked up at him dubiously. She wasn't used to being spoken to quite so abruptly and disrespectfully and she was about to give Morse a piece of her mind and a quick reminder of the importance of politeness and good manners before she was interrupted by him showing her his warrant card and rephrasing his initial question with an even greater sense of urgency in his voice.

'Is she up on the rooftop? I haven't got time to hang about, Miss!'

The woman might have sensed from the sound of his voice and the expression on his face that this was a matter of the most extreme importance and that it was not a time to be hesitating in giving out such information about one of her fellow workers.

'Yes, I believe she is,' replied the woman with a slight gasp. 'She often goes up there in her lunchbreak. She loves the peace and quiet up there.'

'How do I get up there?' shouted Morse who had no more time for pleasantries with this woman who clearly didn't appreciate the seriousness of the situation. She gave him clear succinct directions on how to get up to the rooftop and Morse shot off in the direction she had given him, leaving the woman speechless and astounded at the whirlwind conversation she had just experienced with the policeman whom she vaguely recognised from a day or two ago.

It only took Morse a minute or two to reach the top floor of the Town Hall building as the woman's directions had been mercifully and surprisingly clear. He came to the door which she had described and which he opened. He quickly went through the door, up the short flight of steps and found himself on the large rooftop of the Town Hall.

The sun that beamed down from the cloudless blue sky was extremely bright. It made him squint horribly and he was forced to hold his hand up to his eyes to protect them from the blistering sun and help him to focus on what lay in front of him. When his eyes had finally become accustomed to the brightness of the light, he saw a short figure about thirty feet away from him, leaning over the back wall of the roof, looking down at the ground hundreds of feet below. The figure must have heard Morse's footsteps or at least sensed his presence out on the rooftop for it turned round sharply and Morse's worst fears were confirmed when he saw that it was indeed Veronica Roberts.

Part 3

When the police vans arrived outside the Town Hall, the officers rapidly leapt out of the vehicles, their firearms at the ready and without any fuss were led up the steps by Thursday and Strange and into the building which had already been cordoned off by uniformed police. The staff who were working on the ground floor were swiftly ushered outside the building by Fancy and Trewlove without any word of explanation, leaving the path clear for Thursday, Strange and the rest of the armed police officers to make their way up the stairs to the Planning Department.

'Where the hell is Morse?!' thundered Thursday, clearly in a towering rage. He had been expecting to meet his sergeant outside the building when they arrived and was momentarily thrown by his non-appearance. 'If he's disobeyed my orders about waiting for back-up, I'll have him back in traffic by the end of the day – assuming we both get out of this alive,' he thundered to no-one in particular. Strange looked across at Thursday, nonplussed and concerned, but he was keen to try to put up some sort of defence for his mate.

'He must have had his reasons, Sir. He wouldn't normally disobey a direct order of yours, would he?'

'How long have you worked with us, Strange? That's exactly what he would do if he thought it was the right decision. He's a maverick, Sergeant. Always has been, always will be. He makes up his own rules, when and where it suits him.'

Thursday led his men to the reception area of the Town Planning department where the woman who had only just spoken to Morse was still sitting, trying to recover her poise and composure. She let out a barely strangled scream when she saw the half dozen armed officers come into the room and she leapt to her feet, terrified out of her wits and instinctively held her hands up in abject surrender. Thursday quickly sought to calm her nerves and explain the situation to the poor, frightened woman before asking her where Veronica Roberts was.

'Why are all you lot so desperate to speak to her all of a sudden? What's she done wrong?' The woman gazed at Thursday and Strange in utterly bewildered fashion, even as Trewlove took her gently by the elbow and led her out from behind her desk.

'What do you mean, ''all you lot''?' asked DS Strange who had quickly picked up on her seemingly innocent turn of phrase. 'Who else has been asking about her today?'

'Another copper was here not five minutes ago asking where she was!'

'What did you tell him?' asked Thursday, guessing that it had to be Morse. Who else could it be?

The frightened woman stammered out a nervous summary of what she had told Morse whereupon Thursday barked out orders to the other officers to follow him as he tore off in pursuit of Morse who, for reasons only known to himself, had obviously chosen to disregard his orders to wait and gone off to confront their killer on his own. Damn idiot! He said to himself but Strange had heard him as he followed hard on his heels and he feared for his flatmate. One way or another, Morse seemed likely to get it in the neck, be it from the old man or from their murderer. Within a minute or two they had followed Morse's path to the rooftop and as the little door was pushed open and they tiptoed up the small flight of steps, with Thursday leading the way, the DCI made a motion with his hand for the rest of the officers to hold back a little as he slowly edged his way forward out of the darkness and into the bright light that was pouring down onto the exposed, open Town Hall roof. Thursday stared straight ahead and blinked a couple of times as his eyes became accustomed to the change in light until he could finally see Morse standing some twenty feet in front of him, his arms outstretched in earnest supplication towards a figure that was standing over by the edge of the rooftop.

'Please, Veronica! Step away from the edge. Please don't make this any more difficult than it already is,' said Morse, his face twitching nervously as he sought desperately to take control of the situation which was threatening to run away from him.

'I knew you'd come for me one day, Morse,' said Veronica, her voice steady, measured and eerily composed, in stark contrast to Morse's. 'It was only a matter of time before you worked it out. I could see how clever you are. And determined. I knew deep down I didn't have much time left. What gave me away? I thought I had covered my tracks so well.'

'You did,' nodded Morse, a hint of genuine sympathy in his voice. 'But you reckoned without Vera Cooper's imaginative clues that she left for us to find.'

Veronica's face clouded over with a confused, bewildered look as if she almost didn't believe him. 'What clues? The old bat didn't leave any clues that I could see.'

'The newspaper crossword…and the books on the living room table.'

'What? But that was just a pile of boring books and a Times crossword with a load of random writing scribbled across the page! I had a good look at them after I killed her. There was nothing there to give me away.'

'Not random, Veronica. The books, the lists of words and names, they were all carefully chosen by Ms Cooper to point the finger at you. She had had plenty of time to prepare for her meeting with you, you see. She knew she had to leave a few clues behind for the police to find in case things didn't work out well with you. But they had to be subtle, clever clues. They had to be disguised to look like the random jottings of an old lady simply doing the crossword or reading a book while she waited for you to turn up.'

'So what were they then?' Veronica looked at Morse suspiciously, not wishing to believe the truth of his explanation.

'The titles of the books, the seemingly random names of poets, novelists, actresses, when you dug deep into the origins of their meanings, they all spelled out your name, Veronica.'

'Was that it, then? Was that all that gave me away? A few silly books and a load of obscure crossword clues? Really?'

'No,' said Morse who knew from experience how important it was to play for time in this kind of situation. He had to prolong the conversation as long as possible to give himself time to think of how he could persuade Veronica to come quietly, instead of taking the easy way out and throwing herself off the roof. He had to keep talking to her and hope she didn't notice him edging minutely closer to her second by second.

'You also gave yourself away a couple of times, with one or two things you said. I didn't pick up on them to begin with. I had an instinct you had said something important but I just couldn't work out what exactly. It was only last night that everything made sense.

'What did I say, Morse? Please, do tell me. I'm intrigued. How did I give myself away?'

Morse hesitated for a few seconds as he deliberated if it was worth trying to persuade her to come back down into the Town Hall with the promise that he would reveal all once they were both safely inside. 'Come back down with me and I'll tell you,' he suggested. 'No other policemen, just you and me, alone in a room.'

'Nice try, Morse, but I'm not going anywhere. Didn't they tell you? I like it up here. It's so…. restful and the views of the city are spectacular. Come and have a look if you don't believe me.' Veronica turned away from Morse and leant over the back wall of the roof, looking down on the streets below.

'Please, Veronica, don't do it!' cried Morse who took the opportunity to take a few steps forward while her back was momentarily turned away and he was able to get as close as about ten feet away when she stopped leaning over and straightened back up again to face him.

'What did I say that gave me away, Morse? Pray, do tell. I'm intrigued even if you have inched a few steps closer to me.'

'It was that letter you wrote to Ms Cooper. You told her you intended to confront your father and ask him why he chose to abandon you and your mother. You said you wanted to ruffle his feathers and rattle his cage. I thought those two phrases were a little odd at the time. They're not exactly common expressions. I also thought I'd heard someone use them before but I couldn't remember who and when. Eventually the penny dropped.'

Veronica turned a curious eye on Morse as she inched a little further back towards the edge of the roof. 'Go on, Morse. You've got my attention.'

'It was when you spoke to me the other day about Ronald Fraser's visit to the Town Hall that Friday afternoon. You described him as the kind of man who was all talk and no action. The sort of man who simply liked to have a rant, throw his toys out of the pram and ruffle a few feathers. Plus there was the first time we met in the pub, do you remember? You remarked that your boss, Mr Carmichael, was in a really foul mood after we had spoken to him and that was because we must have really rattled his cage. Another one of your odd favourite sayings, I assume?'

'My mother's actually, since you ask. Whenever she talked about getting her own back at people who had wronged her, she always spoke of rattling cages and ruffling a few feathers.'

Veronica stared at Morse for a few seconds before breaking out into an uncomfortable smile. 'It doesn't matter much now, anyway. I did what I came here to do. Mission accomplished. Wrongs of the past have now been righted. I can rest easy now, for the first time in years…perhaps ever, if truth be told.'

The young woman backed away slowly towards the edge of the rooftop, prompting a panic-stricken Morse to cry out 'Don't! Please, Veronica!' as he himself took one or two small steps forward. DCI Thursday, who had been watching and listening to the exchanges of conversation with a rapidly increasing heartbeat in the shadows for the last five minutes, decided that this was the moment to show Ms Roberts that they were not alone on the rooftop and that she had far more than just Morse to contend with.

After a whispered instruction to the men behind him, he took several steps forward out of the hazy shadow and into the light of day, followed closely by Jim Strange while the other officers hung back a touch and remained hidden from full view. The sound of Thursday's footsteps scraping on the ground made Morse swing round and he gasped in surprise at the sight of his two colleagues striding purposefully onto the roof top, their weapons held in their hands but hanging down by their side.

'I think we've heard enough, Miss Roberts,' said Thursday calmly yet with admirable solemnity and authority. 'I think it's high time we wrapped this show up, don't you? I'd quite like to get you over to the station, charge you and get home in time for my tea, if that's OK with you?'

Veronica Roberts let out a slight chuckle at the DCI's light-hearted little joke as she edged a little further back towards the edge of the roof wall.

Morse swung his head round at the sounds of her movement and held out a hand once again as he had done when he had first arrived on the rooftop. 'Please, Veronica. Don't do it, I beg you. Not here. Not now. Please!' As he stood there, pleading with her not to jump or throw herself off the edge, the memory of that dream he had a few weeks ago, when he was begging Joan not to jump off the rooftop of her flat, came flashing back to him with the most terrifying clarity. Had that disturbing dream been a mere premonition of this moment? Had he simply got the two women mixed up in his head? He hoped to God it wasn't a look into the future since Joan had fallen off the rooftop of her flat and he was desperate to prevent that from happening here and now.

'Think of your mother, Veronica,' pleaded Morse as his mind sought frantically for any reason to persuade the young woman not to throw her life away. 'Surely she wouldn't your life to end like this. Surely you want to see her again.'

'My mother died six months ago,' said Veronica, her eyes suddenly welling up with tears and her voice was barely more than a whisper as she bowed her head in a desperate struggle to control her emotions. Thursday and Strange panned out either side of Morse and advanced noiselessly and surreptitiously towards the young woman, taking advantage of her momentary loss of concentration. 'The doctors said she had a heart condition. They were half right. She died of a broken heart, Morse. She never really recovered from what my father did. But as long as she was alive, I couldn't leave her and go off in search of him. But after she died, I knew I had to do what she never had the courage to do. Find him and confront him. Ask him why he had turned his back on us all those years ago.'

'What did he say?' asked Morse, playing for time, hoping that Thursday and Strange could step by step get close enough to Veronica to attempt to grab hold of her and drag her back from the edge of the roof. He chose to remain perfectly still and engage her in conversation, hoping that he could make her fix her eyes solely on him and ignore everything else going on around them. It wasn't the greatest plan he had ever come up with but it was all he could think of in the circumstances.

'What could he say?' scoffed Veronica, looking directly at Morse with an almost accusing, defiant expression. 'He never meant to get my mother pregnant. It was all a terrible mistake. He couldn't leave his wife. The usual feeble excuses men come out with to avoid facing up to their responsibilities.'

Throughout Morse and Veronica's painful exchanges, Thursday and Strange somehow had managed to inch forward almost within touching distance of Ms Roberts, sufficiently close, Morse thought, for one of them perhaps to risk making a sudden lunge for her before she could back away and move closer to the edge of the roof. Morse didn't dare take his eyes off Veronica or so much as glance at his colleagues for fear of alerting her that something might be about to happen. He just had to hope that Thursday or Strange were thinking along the same lines as him. And then it happened. It came and went in a flash, it all took place so quickly that it was impossible to take in every milli-second of action. It seemed like an entire lifetime passed in front of Morse's eyes in a couple of seconds. Thursday made a sudden leap forward and made a grab for Veronica's left arm and tried to pull her back towards him. She let out a scream of anguish and lashed out with her free right arm, landing him a hefty blow which succeeded in pushing him away from her. Thursday fell to the ground in a rather ungainly heap while Strange tried a follow-up attempt to grab hold of Veronica while she was temporarily distracted by Thursday's fall from grace.

The young woman instinctively backed away at speed from Strange and, on hitting the back wall of the rooftop waist-high with considerable force, lost her balance and toppled backwards over the edge, quickly disappearing from view of all three men, accompanying her fall with a prolonged, high-pitched scream which made Morse's blood run cold and sent an almighty shiver up his spine. His mouth flew open in shock and he sprinted forward instinctively, only to stop short of the edge when Veronica finally disappeared from view as she plummeted downwards hundreds of feet towards the ground below.

Thursday, meanwhile, had scrambled to his feet and ran over to the edge, immediately joined by Strange and the two men forced themselves to observe the final seconds of Veronica's inexorable descent until the moment when she hit the ground whereupon both men turned their heads away in horror, unable to bear to watch the final moment of impact and instantaneous death. Morse had already long since turned his head away, feeling powerless to prevent the tragedy from happening and unable to observe the final appalling moments of Veronica's life. He had to put his hand to his mouth and hold in a suffocating urge to be sick and he bent down almost double, taking in huge gulps of air to stop himself from collapsing to the ground in an ignominious heap.

Thursday let out an indiscriminate oath and threw his hat on to the ground in fury and intense disappointment that they had been unable to prevent further loss of life in this most trying of cases. Strange went over to Morse, helped him stand up straight and attempted to offer him a consoling few words. 'It's not your fault, matey. Don't you start blaming yourself, now. She probably would have jumped anyway even if we hadn't got here when we did.'

Morse stared at Strange blankly, as if he had been speaking in a foreign language and cast a despairing glance over to the precise spot where Veronica had fallen, holding his arm out limply as he fought back a few tears.

'Come on,' said Thursday, his mouth and jaw set grimly, his eyes blazing with anger and frustration. 'We need to get down there and clear up this mess.' Strange turned around and began to make his way across the rooftop while Morse remained motionless, seemingly rooted to the spot, unable to move. 'You too, Morse. Morse!' Morse jerked his head up from the ground where he had been fixedly staring for the last few seconds and gazed up at Thursday, his eyes cold and lifeless. 'Let's go, Morse. There's nothing more we can do here.'

Morse nodded in silence and allowed Thursday to put a comforting arm around his shoulders and lead him gently yet firmly away from the scene, as the three men headed for the steps and the door that led back inside the Town Hall.

Part 4

3 days later

The band struck up the final chords of the musical score and Fred and Win Thursday came to a dramatic halt, taking up their final pose as the music stopped and they waited in breathless anticipation for the applause to break out, which it duly did with a mighty burst which intensified as the seconds passed by. They looked at each other, smiled broadly and Fred even permitted himself the tiniest of laughs before they straightened up and took the deafening applause with an ostentatious bow and curtsey alike.

In the audience their family and friends led the rapturous applause with huge smiles of pride and excitement. Joan and Sam, naturally, were the first to react, screaming their approval, accompanied by loud cheers and whistles and the others either side of them were quick to follow suit – Paul, standing next to Joan, Sam with his newly acquired girlfriend, another squaddie like himself, Strange and Claudine next to them and on the other side of Joan was Morse who was also clapping wildly and surprising himself with his unaccustomedly excitable reaction.

Fred and Win eventually left the dance floor and stood to one side, nervously awaiting their scores. They knew what they needed from the judges to earn the final qualifying place for the semi-finals and Win could hardly bring herself to look over towards the judges and see what scores they would hold up on their score cards. Not so Fred who was quietly confident he and Win had done more than enough to reach the semis. Win whispered in his ear that he would have to tell her the scores as she couldn't bear to look and Fred whispered back a few words of encouragement, telling her that he was confident they had done enough and that he was unbelievably proud of her whatever the result, which prompted a huge, tearful smile from Win who threw her arms around him in appreciation for his ever-loving loyalty.

But she had no reason to be nervous as Fred's confidence was not misplaced. The judges' scores came through and they easily earned enough marks to qualify for the County semi-finals for the first time in their dancing lives. Cue much hugging and kissing, screaming and shouting from the official Thursday support team which carried on in the bar an hour or so later.

'I still can't believe it,' cried Win as she raised her glass of champagne towards her family and friends who were gathered around her and Fred for a celebratory drink afterwards.

'You were magnificent, Mum,' said a joyous Joan as she stood arm in arm with Paul. 'Both of you were. I told you over and over again you had nothing to worry about, didn't I? But you wouldn't believe me, would you?'

'Oh, you know your mother,' said Fred with a wry grin. 'She never thinks she's good enough. Just as well me and you and everyone else knew she was, or I'd never be able to get her on the dance floor at all!'

Everyone laughed and Win gave Fred a discreet poke in the ribs for his troubles. The party was still going strong ten minutes later but Morse had left the group, seemingly without anyone noticing and was sitting on his own at the bar, quietly sipping his second glass of champagne, contemplating how soon he could make his excuses and leave without coming across as disgracefully rude and ungrateful.

'Are you all right, matey?' Strange had seemed to have crept up on Morse without warning and was standing at his elbow. Champagne wasn't really his thing and he was considering having a sneaky beer at the bar without any of the others noticing. 'Get you a beer? I'm not much of a champagne man, myself.'

Morse hesitated before nodding silently. A minute later Strange took receipt of two pints of beer from the barman and handed one to Morse who thanked him quietly and proceeded to down almost half the contents in one fell swoop.

'Blimey! You really needed that, didn't you?' remarked Strange who had noticed that Morse had been even quieter than usual when they had been celebrating with the rest of the gang. 'Are you OK now? You starting to put it all behind you?'

Morse screwed up his face into a painful grimace before answering. 'A little, perhaps. I still can't help feeling we should have stopped her.'

'From killing Fraser and Ms Cooper?'

'No. We were never going to stop her doing that. No, from…you know, falling off the roof.'

'Don't torment yourself, matey. I reckon she would have jumped anyway, before we all got there. I suspect she felt her life was over when her Mum died.'

Morse looked at Strange's kindly, sympathetic face and nodded, albeit reluctantly. 'Maybe. Looking back on things now, I guess… she always seemed like the sort of woman who didn't fit in anywhere, who wasn't looking to stay anywhere long. Even her flat spoke of a woman who wasn't intending to hang around Oxford long.'

'Only until she had killed her father and his aunt and finally got her revenge. Like she said, mission accomplished. She had nothing else to live for after that, did she?'

'Or nobody else to live for, at least.'

Morse's sad, gloomy face told a thousand stories and Strange tried to shake him out of his quiet, pensive, lonely misery.

'Look, there's a darts match taking place tonight. What say we pop in on the way home and cheer on the lads for the final few games?'

Morse forced out a smile, though he felt anything but enthusiasm for the suggestion and shook his head. 'I don't think so. But you go, though. Don't let me stop you. I've a mind to go home, pour myself a large Scotch and take advantage of being alone in the house by putting on some Wagner at full volume and just letting the music overcome me and numb the pain.'

'Are you sure I still won't hear it from the pub?' asked Strange with a mischievous grin and the hint of a twinkle in his eyes.

Author's Message

Well, that's it. Finished. Finally! Apologies that the story went on way too long – I should have looked to end it within 30 chapters instead of dragging it out another half dozen or so. But you live and learn, I guess. Will try not to make the same mistake with my next story. Thank you to all those readers who have stuck with the story right to the bitter end. I hope you enjoyed it for the most part. Thanks to all those who left reviews, they were very much appreciated. If you want to leave a final comment on the story as a whole, please feel free. I'd love to hear from you. Bye!