The Oxford Bar

Morse: Morning.
DeBryn: Not for this poor Sod. You are whom?
Morse: Morse. Detective Constable. On attachment from New Town. You’re the pathologist I presume?
DeBryn: Better hope so hadn’t you, otherwise I’m making a hell of a mess of your scene of crime. Max DeBryn.
Morse: Is it a scene of crime? Initial report suggested suicide.
DeBryn: Looks to be. Single entry wound on the right temple, typical starbust gunpowder pattern on the skin surrounding the wound, together with contact scorching would suggest the weapon was fired at point blank range. As you can see.
Morse: I’ll take your word for it.
DeBryn: Squeamish are we? You won’t make much of a detective if you’re not prepared to look death in the eye.