Inspector Morse

John, some college friends have asked us over. Do you want to come?

- I don't think so. - Oh, spoilsport.

Look, why don't you go over? I um...I honestly don't feel up to it.

John?

John.

- John, what's wrong? - Look, nothing's wrong, I promise.

I've got behind with my work and I need to think about it, that's all.

- Are you sure? - Positive.

Look, why don't you go back to your friends and have a good time?

I'll give you a call in the morning.

Good evening, Mr Brewster.

- Can we interest you in a hand? - No, thank you. I never gamble.

And neither should you, by the look of that lot.

Hello. Dr Brewster again.

Are you sure my husband's not at the clinic?

He couldn't have come back?

Forgotten something?

No. No, it's just that he's not arrived yet.

Thank you.

A Mr Mathew Brewster.

He was found dead in his garage with the car engine running.

This could take us half the night.

- I've been on the go since eight this morning. - So have I, Sergeant.

But I haven't spent the last two weeks lying on a beach in Italy,

have I?

I spent my holiday engaged in cultural pursuits, Lewis, not lying on a beach.

Sir.

Everything under control?

All right?

Mm-hm.

Seems peaceful enough to me.

That's how he was when we found him, sarge.

There was nothing unusual caught your eye when you came in?

No, nothing at all.

Could you tell me what happened this evening?

Mathew was due home at about 8:40. That was his usual time.

Due home from where?

His clinic.

My mother and father own a private clinic, Chief Inspector.

He...

..usually left around eight and was seldom late.

When he wasn't home by nine, I began to worry.

I had thought of calling the police, but I didn't want to make a fuss or appear foolish.

I told myself he'd broken down.

I looked out of the window several times,

hoping to see Mathew get out of the car.

The last time I looked I saw John arrive, and...

we discovered what had happened.

What time was that?

Around eleven, I think.

When I arrived, I heard the engine running.

Then I saw the fumes.

I...I tried to open the garage door.

When I did, I couldn't see anything.

I tried to find the light switch, but I began to feel the effect of the fumes.

That's everything completed here, right?

- That about does it, sir. - Thank you, Lewis.

Something wrong?

Probably not.

Something that Dr Brewster said.

She said she looked from the house, hoping to see her husband get out of the car.

But he'd get out of the car in the garage, wouldn't he?

The doors open automatically on approach.

You can't even see the garage from that room.

- Just a slip of the tongue, sir. - Yes.

You can clear it up in the morning.

But why do it this way, Lewis?

Drive home, I mean.

They own a clinic.

He was surrounded by any number of drugs or poisons he could have used.

I guess when you get to the point of killing yourself, you're not thinking too clearly, sir.

You think it was suicide?

No reason to suspect anything else.

It was murder, Morse. Certainly murder.

Although there was a pretty duff attempt to make it look like suicide.

Do you mind explaining, Doctor?

Well, it's all a matter of deduction, really. See here. Look.

These marks across the chest

and around the wrist.

He was tied into the seat. Now...

if he was tied in, he was conscious and may have felt compelled to cry out.

So, I have a look around the mouth, and what do I find?

Traces of adhesive and minute injuries where the facial hair has been torn out.

He was bound and gagged, Morse.

He was murdered.

Time and cause of death?

Asphyxiation. 9:30, approx.

We know he left the clinic shortly after eight.

Would you agree that there wasn't time enough

- to have him killed elsewhere? - Yes, I would.

The killer was taking quite a risk, then, wasn't he? Staying there until the job was done.

Unless he came out and went back in again later.

But then he'd have to get back in, close the garage doors behind him,

make sure that Brewster was dead, take off the gag, untie the ropes,

and then find his way back out of the doors again.

Brewster's son was driven out by the fumes.

I've already thought of that.

And what have you deduced?

Well, either you're looking for someone with an exceptional pair of lungs -

a Japanese pearl diver, say -

or your killer was a common or garden Englishman...

using breathing apparatus, perhaps.

Morning, ma'am.

- What is going on, Chief Inspector? - Could we talk inside?

- Can you tell us what's going on? - I'm sorry, you are...?

Mark Felsham. I'm from the Radcliffe Infirmary. Claire is my patient.

It would be better if we talked inside, Mr Felsham.

You've surely made a mistake, Chief Inspector.

My husband's death must have been an accident.

I can assure you, Dr Brewster, it wasn't an accident.

Can you think of anyone who might want to harm your husband?

No. Of course I can't.

Who would want to harm Mathew?

- The idea's quite preposterous. Do sit down. - Someone did.

I'd like you to think very carefully.

Did your husband mention any recent conversation he might have had,

any incident or event...

that he considered out of the ordinary?

No.

There was that break-in that you mentioned, Claire.

At the clinic. - When was that?

Seven, eight months ago. I don't remember.

There was nothing taken. The police thought it likely

that the intruder was after drugs.

We heard no more about it.

Dr Brewster, last night you said you went to the window

expecting to see your husband getting out of the car.

How could you expect to see him if he was in the garage?

What?

Oh!

Sometimes he parked in the drive, Chief Inspector, especially if John was out.

Mathew, he...

..very often left early for the clinic in the morning.

- Inspector. - Of course.

Claire, I want you to go upstairs and rest.

Excuse me.

Why is it, Chief Inspector, that doctors make such bad patients?

If I had my way, I'd prefer her in hospital for a day or two, but she won't hear of it.

ls her condition so serious?

With proper medical care and attention, she has three, maybe four years at best.

And she could well do without this kind of trauma.

And that damned clinic.

- It became an obsession with both of them. - ls the clinic in trouble?

On the contrary, it's thriving.

At the beginning, they invested everything they had.

Borrowed heavily.

But they made it work.

Where's Mother? ls she all right?

She's all right. She's upstairs. She's fine.

Will you excuse me?

We've got something here.

- What's that? - More tape, by the look of it.

When I asked him about last night,

he told me he'd spent some time with a girlfriend, a Jane Folley,

English student up at the University.

Anyway, that was around seven o'clock.

Afterwards, he says he went for a drive and then came home.

- Well, that's four hours. What was he doing? - Thinking, he says.

He is doing a doctorate in philosophy.

And the diving equipment, sir. He doesn't use it. Doesn't know anyone who does.

We're about finished, sir. Meager findings, I'm afraid.

- Where's this from? - The car inspection pit.

We did find two rolls of tape in the tool kit, but neither comes from this. It's much broader.

- Get it off to Forensic. And thank you. - Right, sir.

Chief Inspector Morse?

Yes. Miss Folley?

Yes.

- Shall we walk? - Yes, I'd like that.

I'm at a loss to know how I can help.

I've never met John's father. Or his mother, for that matter.

How long have you been seeing John?

Two years.

And you've never met his family?

According to John, I'd simply be something else for his father to disapprove of.

They didn't get on, I'm afraid.

John had been expected to follow his father and mother into medicine.

When he refused, his father turned against him.

And last night, how did John seem to you?

Oh...down, I'd say.

Do you know why?

He said he'd fallen behind with his work and wanted some time on his own.

Your questions, Chief Inspector...

- I can't quite see the relevance. - Oh, they're just routine

in cases of murder.

But...when John phoned last night, he seemed to think it was an accident.

- Or suicide. - No. No, John's father was murdered.

Chief Inspector, what I said about John and his father...

- you mustn't infer... - As I said, my questions are purely routine.

You're onto a winner here, Sergeant. Do you want to have a look?

- Just tell me what I'd see. - Hair...on the tape that was brought in.

And probably from the dead man's face, I'd say.

I'm pretty confident that it was used as a gag.

That was a nice cup of tea.

Not too sweet.

I've had a chance to think about all this, Mother.

I'm going to tell the police about Michael Steppings.

Steppings? Why?

Tell them what?

That he made threats against Father in court.

But that was two years ago.