Chapter 7

Papers were sprawled all around the room. He was determined to clear out the spare room, make it into a proper guestroom on the off chance Lyn wanted to come visit. Now looking at all of the paperwork, strewn around the room, he was thinking about giving it up as a bad job. Perhaps he could just pay for a hotel if she ever came down.

Dropping onto the sofa, he grabbed the paper and started to read. There was nothing really worth reading and he had resorted to reading the classifieds. One caught his eye and it was like being drenched in ice water.

Always remember.

Forever. W

He stared at it, read it multiple times, trying to understand it.

"I've always liked this song. Do you remember dancing to it after we put the kids to bed?"

He didn't respond instantly, his head still mulling over the words he'd read.

"I should have bet you wouldn't get this finished."

He dropped the paper, still open, onto the sofa. "I'm going to finish. I was just taking a break."

"You were thinking about boxing it all up and dumping it back into the spare."

He nodded, "Guilty as charged."

"Care to explain why you are digging through all of this on a Friday night. You could be out doing something fun, exciting."

"Do I look like a fun and exciting guy to you?"

Sitting on the arm of the sofa, she smiled at him. "You used to be."

"Maybe it was the company I kept."

"Something tells me the good doctor is quite good company. You could call her."

"I don't know."

"What don't you know, Robbie?"

"She's good company but what if I'm not. What if I mess it all up? I have to work with her."

"And what if it all goes right?" She looked around the room at his mess, "You should call Lyn. Ask her to come down. She'd be happy to lend you a hand."

He scoffed, "She has her own life. Doesn't need to give up a weekend to help her old dad clear out stuff he should have gotten rid of ages ago."

"I'm pretty sure she would just look at it as spending time with her dad."

Robbie's mobile rang. He fumbled with the papers on the table, finding the phone. "James, it'll be a case."

She nodded, "Be careful. And call your daughter." As he waved at her, grabbing his things, her eyes fell to the paper. That was a reminder he didn't need.

He was walking back to his car. There wasn't much more they could do at the crime scene so he and James had agreed to regroup in the morning when they might both be fresh.

His mind wandered to Laura. She'd looked beautiful but then, when didn't she. She was one of those rare women who looked equally at ease dressed up and dressed down. More importantly, she made him feel at ease.

She'd done that from the first time they'd met. Even when Morse had been at his worst, she would always side with him. Always find some way to put him at ease while subtly needling Morse.

He wondered if she'd had a date at the party she was enjoying. Who was the mystery man? No doubt someone who moved in vastly more exclusive circles than he did. Someone younger, closer to her own age.

Despite Val encouraging him, he felt uncomfortable pursuing Laura, Dr. Hobson. Beyond what he'd told Val, his fear of losing their friendship. His real fear was losing Val. He had all he needed at home, seeking anything else would make him feel guilty, as if he were cheating.

The thought stopped him short. He'd not had that feeling when he'd gone on other dates. So why now? Val actually approved of Laura, had bet him to get him to ask her out. Although, when it came right down to it, he hadn't asked her. He'd suggested it and she had pushed, encouraged him.

If she was so interested in him, then why was she out with another man? As he pushed open the door, the creaking hinges grated against his nerves. For the first time since she'd shown up, he hoped Val wasn't there.

Inside he dropped his things in the bowl on the table then stripped off his jacket. The mess in his sitting room beckoned. He dove in, straightening everything. Dropping it haphazardly back into boxes. He didn't stop until it was all packed away and tucked carefully into the spare room.

Turning out the lights, he staggered into his bedroom, stripping clothing as he went. He hadn't seen her but she'd been there, carefully watching him. As the light in his bedroom flicked off, she said a silent prayer he hadn't returned to the paper, to the memoriam which had caught his eye earlier.

They entered the building, The Portobello Club. It stood for everything Robbie hated about the city he now called home.

James sensing his unease, attempted to lighten the mood. "No ales. No taps. Certainly do do things differently around here."

Laughter swelled from across the room. Robbie nodded toward it, "I was wrong about fashionable idiots. Just idiots."

A man neither of them knew approached, "Present company excepted, I hope." Robbie turned to the voice, "Hey, I won't bite your head off. I'm enough of an African to take a joke. I've got a skin like an elephant's hide. I'm Hansie Kriel. And you are?"

Recognition dawned on Robbie, the man Innocent had told them about. "Detective Inspector Lewis. Could you tell us anything about the fight that happened here last night?"

"It was a storm in a teacup according to my star witness. Tom, my manager."

James interceded, "Can we talk to him, please?"

"Sure. I can tell you that my employee on the door behaved impeccably."

Hi, I'm Ann Kriel. Um, is this about that stupid incident with those dons last night?"

Hansie nodded, "Yeah."

"Okay, why don't let me deal with it? I was here, so…"

Addressing his wife, "Okay, I'll catch you later, maybe."

She watched him leave, "So, we've got CCTV, it should tell you everything that you need to know." She turned to Robbie, "You know, you'll see just how wicked these Oxford dons can be."

Robbie smiled, liking her, what she was saying. "No surprise there."

She nodded, "Mm…you know, maybe we should bar these academics. Just let, you know, real people in, like you."

She walked away, leaving both mean staring at her. Robbie watched her walk, "Real?"

James stepped closer, trying to keep the glee from his voice. "I'd hazard a guess she's flirting with you, sir."

Robbie looked back at James trying to gauge if the younger man was teasing. Then he realized he didn't care if he was teasing. If the beautiful woman was flirting, he didn't mind.

He was walking along, heading back to his car when he almost ran into her. She was hurried, rushed, seemed almost scared. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine."

He looked back in the direction she'd come from, "Was someone following you?"

She shook her head, looking away, "No, no. I'm fine. I was just, um…"

Pointing in the direction she was looking, "Would you like me to see you home?"

She sighed, nodding slightly, "Yeah."

His hand found the small of her back as they walked. It was just a few short blocks, there was no conversation until she was opening the door of her flat.

"You seemed really frightened just now."

"Oh no, I'm fine."

He followed her into the flat, was surprised to see a bed. "Oh, you live above the shop?"

"Uh, no. Hansie, my soon-to-be ex-husband uses it when he's in town. And, well, I sometimes flop here if it's a late night and he's not around, you know? Which…which is often."

"You seem to be burning the midnight oil."

"Yeah, well, it's the story of my life."

"It takes a while to settle down in this city."

She shook he head, "Oh no, no. Oxford suits me just fine. You know, my daughter's studying here for four years. And, well Dimittus is based here."

"Dimittus?"

"That's where I've just been. It's a, um, charity for refugees." Sitting in the chair, she rummages through her handbag, removing a brochure and photo. "It's my soapbox, Hansie calls it." Holding out the brochure and photo, "Here. This man, he is one of the greatest musicians in the world. Now he plays a cora. It's a type of a lute. And he has got a library of songs in his head that goes back centuries. But you know, his government see him as a threat, so he is currently in a camp near Dover, awaiting deportation back to prison."

"How did you get involved?"

She shrugged, "Well, um, I'm just one of those sad people that's always looking for a cause." Robbie smiled, still looking at the picture. "What?"

"Just…charities and nightclubs. It's an unusual mixture."

Nodding, she smiled at him. "Yeah, you're not kidding. You know, I sometimes feel like I've got an angel on one shoulder and a devil on the other."

Robbie nodded, thrilled by the idea. "Who's winning?"

"Jury's out at the moment. But, you know, maybe…maybe one day once I'm shot of this bloody divorce I…" Seeing his smile, she paused, "Hey, thank you for being so kind."

He shook his head, standing, "Ah."

She stood too, "Um, I'd like to treat you to dinner."

"Oh, there's no need for that. I just looked in for five minutes to make sure you were all right."

"Yeah, I know you're busy, but, um, I think it would be nice." Taking a small step closer, "Well, don't you?"

He paused, not quite sure how to answer. Then he realized it would be nice. "Yes, I do, actually."

He walked toward the door, she followed behind him. "I'll call you."

He turned back to her, "I look forward to it."

She leaned forward, kissing him lightly on the cheek. "Take care."

He knew sleep wouldn't come, once again. His brain was too full of the case, Ann Kriel and surprisingly, Morse. It seemed his fingerprints were everywhere suddenly. Wagner lovers left and right on this case, that strange advertisement in the paper.

What were the odds the mother of the man who found the victim had known Morse? By the way she'd talked about him, knew him intimately. Opening the door to his spare bedroom, he dug through the boxes, finding one he wanted.

Settling in the sitting room floor, he dug through the box. There was paperwork he needed to go through but finally he found a stack of photos. He flipped through them and there was Morse. Smiling in the background as he'd gotten a commendation.

Despite everything, he'd cared deeply for the man. A well of emotion that was equal parts admiration and loathing fought for space inside his head. He wondered if James would feel the same about him one day.

His mobile rang, a number he didn't recognize. "Lewis."

"It's me, Ann Kriel."

All thoughts of Morse and James floated away, "Oh, hi."

"Are you free for dinner?"

"When?"

"Right now, if you like."

Looking at his watch, surprised by the lateness of the call. "Uh…"

"It would be perfect for me." She paused, "What are you up to, anyway?"

The microwave dinged in the background, he hoped she hadn't heard it. "Reading."

"Well I hope I am more intriguing than a book."

"Yes, so, I designed and I ran the first club in London and then Hansie brought in the money to expand and we went into America. Honestly, it's like… Well, it's like a world tour with him, you know?"

Robbie looked around the restaurant, "How did you get involved in all this? The hours must be a killer."

"Oh, you know, ironically enough, that was the appeal. I'm a chronic insomniac."

He nodded, "You and me both."

She smiled, "Ah, you see? Kindred spirits."

Shaking his head, "I don't know what it is with me. I normally sleep like a log."

"Is it ghosts?" He stared at her, wondering what would cause her to ask the question. Seeing his dismay, "What?"

He shook his head, trying to shake the thought from it. "No, you're right. Just came as a shock to hear you say it out loud."

She shook her head, "Don't look back."

"Is that what you do?"

"Well, I try. I just…" She picked up her glass, toasting, "To new beginnings."

He was home, had read the letter Walli Helm had given him. It didn't really provide any additional insight into the enigma which was Morse. But the woman was right. It was time for him to bury the past. But how much of the past should he bury.

He hadn't cooked one of the simple meals Val had been carefully teaching him how to make. He'd gone with a simple fry up, something he could do in his sleep. He didn't want the reminder of her tonight. One ghost taking up residence in his head was enough.

James had come and gone, teasing him gently about his taste in women. The truth was, the lad was right. He seemed to keep choosing the wrong woman. Even Val had commented on it. Perhaps Morse wasn't the only ghost he needed to bury. Perhaps he needed to give up on the idea of a future with someone new.

He'd had his great love, maybe you never really got over that. Maybe he'd been fooling himself thinking of a future with Laura. He was happy living here with his ghost. With that thought the loneliness gripped him again.

He hadn't seen Val since the beginning of the case. In the time he'd been back, it wasn't like he saw her, talked with her, every single night. But of late, he had. Hers was the last voice he heard before falling asleep and the first one he heard most mornings.

While she was there, he'd slept, each night, deep, dreamless sleep. It wasn't until he'd gone out with Laura that the insomnia had returned. Hours of not sleeping Val had helped fill. Was his subconscious trying to tell him Laura was a mistake?

His head fell back onto the sofa, a single tear slid down his cheek. He couldn't have them both. Deep down he knew it. If he chose one, he would lose the other. Yet somehow, he had to find a way to stay anchored in the here and now.

Grabbing for his phone, he held down a single button, listened as the call connected. "Hello, pet. It's your dad." He paused, "I know, but I like saying it. I was wondering if you might like to come visit for a weekend."

He listened as she talked, "No, I have a proper spare room. I've had a good clean out and the room is fit for habitation. I even found some things you might like to have. I'm on call this weekend but next weekend…"

Smiling he felt his entire body relax as his daughter said yes. They talked for a few minutes more. He stood as he disconnected the call while walking to his bedroom. He paused only to place his phone on the charger. Then he fell, fully clothed, onto the bed and slept.

She watched from the corner of the room, tears glistening on her cheeks. Not for the first time, she wondered if she was doing the right thing. Perhaps her presence was causing him more harm than good. She moved to the bed, lay beside him, watching him sleep. His soft snores comforted her.

Reaching out, she stroked his cheek. One of the oddities of her existence was that she could feel him, touch him, but he couldn't feel it in return. Yet somehow, despite this, he curled into her, his arm falling across her waist pulling her closer. If he woke at this moment, he would see a pillow, would probably be even more disappointed.

But, it was a price she was willing to pay. She could see into his mind and feel the comfort thinking she was in his arms brought him. All she could hope was the balm of sleep would make him forget this moment and he would wake refreshed. Then, perhaps, she could start guiding him again.