The Inside Story Colin Dexter

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The Inside Story Colin Dexter
It was 8.50 on the morning of Monday, 15th February, 1993.
‘Hurry, Lewis!’ said Inspector Morse. Sergeant Lewis was driving him through the streets of Oxford and Morse was looking at a street plan. They were on their way to the scene of a murder.
‘That’s it, Lewis: Jowett Place. What number is it?’‘Fourteen. Where those two police cars are, sir.’
The Oxford City Police had received a telephone call an hour or two earlier from a man called Paul Bayley, living at 14 Jowett. Place, who had discovered a murder. That morning, he told them, he had found that he had no milk for breakfast, so he had gone down to borrow some milk from the woman who lived in the. Flat below him,
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I’ll be able to give you a more exact time later.’

It was almost twelve o’clock when Morse gave the order for the body to be taken away. The police had finished their work on the flat, Lewis, with two policemen, had been sent out to check Bayley’s story, to question the neighbours, and to discover something about Sheila Poster’s past. And Morse himself now stood alone, looking round the room in which she had been murdered.
He could see that there was not much to find there. All the drawers of the desk were empty; probably the murderer had taken everything away. No handbag, no documents, nothing.

Or was there something?
Above the desk was a wooden board with some picture postcards fixed to it. There was also a card which announced a crime-story competition, organised by the Oxford Library. It had an address on it, which Morse wrote down. Then he took down all the postcards, and looked at the backs. Only one, a picture of Cairo, had a message on it: ‘Cairo is hot and unpleasant, but I miss you – R.’ It looked like a man’s writing. On the floor beside the desk there were some piles of magazines, which didn’t look very interesting. There were also some bookshelves, with books of poems on them. Morse noticed one of his favourites. He took it out, and another postcard fell out of it. It had a photograph of San Jose, in California, on the front, and on the back were written two lines of a poem: And far

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