Colin Dexter - The Silent World Of Nicholas Quinn

A babel of chatter now broke out in the room, and Mrs. Seth was weeping silently. Yet even before the general hubbub had subsided there was a further moment of high drama. After several whispered conversations along the top table, the Vice-Dean requested permission to make a brief statement, and Morse sat down and began doodling aimlessly on the blotter in front of him.

'I hope the Chief Inspector will forgive me, but I wish to clear up one point, if I may. Did I understand him to say that whoever killed Quinn had to be in the Syndicate building both in the morning and also at the end of the afternoon?'

Morse replied at once. 'You understood correctly, sir. I don't wish to go into all the details of the case now; but Quinn was murdered at about twelve noon on Friday — no, let me be more honest with you — at precisely twelve noon on Friday 21st, and his dead body was taken from this building, in the boot of his own car, at approximately 4.45 p.m. Docs that satisfy you, sir?'

The Vice-Dean coughed awkwardly and managed to look extraordinarily uncomfortable. 'Er, no, Chief Inspector. I'm afraid it doesn't. You see I myself went to London that Friday morning and I caught the 3.05 back to Oxford, arriving here about a quarter, twenty past four; and the plain truth is that Roope was on the same train .'

In the stunned silence which greeted this new evidence, Morse spoke quietly and slowly. 'You travelled back with him, you mean?'

'Er, no, not exactly. I, er, I was walking along the platform and I saw Roope getting into a first-class carriage. I didn't join him because I was travelling second.' The Vice-Dean was glad not to have to elaborate on the truth. Even if he'd had a first-class ticket he would rather have sat in a second-class carriage than share a journey with Roope. He'd always hated Roope. What an ironic twist of fortune that he, the Vice-Dean, should be instrumental in clearing him of murder!

'I wish,' said Morse, 'that you could have told me that earlier, sir — not, of course' (he held up a hand to forestall any misunderstanding) 'that you could have known. But what you say is no surprise, sir. You see, I knew that Roope caught the 3.05 from Paddington .'

Several of the Syndics looked at each other; and there was a general air of bewilderment in the room. It was Bartlett himself who tried to put their unspoken questions into words. 'But only a few minutes ago you said—'

'No, sir,' interrupted Morse. 'I know what you're going to say, and you'd be wrong. I said that no one could have murdered Quinn without being in this building at two key periods; and that fact is quite unchallengeable. I repeat, no single person could have carried out the devilish and ingenious plan which was put into operation.' He looked slowly round the room and the full implication of his words slowly sunk into the minds of the Syndics. To Mrs. Seth his voice seemed very quiet and far away now; yet at the same time heightened and tense as if the final disclosure were imminent at last. She saw Morse nod across and over her head, and she turned slightly to see Sergeant Lewis walk quietly to the door and leave the Board Room. What—? But Morse was talking again, in the same quiet, steely voice.

'As I say, we must accept the undoubted fact that one person, on his or her own, could not have carried through the murder of Quinn. And so, ladies and gentlemen, the inference is inevitable: we are looking for two people . Two people who must share the same motives; two people for whom the death of Quinn is a vital necessity; two people who have a strangely close relationship; two people who can work and plot together; two people who are well known to you— very well known. . And before Sergeant Lewis comes back, let me just emphasize one further point, because I don't think some of you listened very carefully to what I said. I said that Roope had been arrested and charged with murder. But I did not say whose murder. In fact I am absolutely convinced of one thing— Christopher Roope did not murder Nicholas Quinn .'

In Quinn's former office Monica Height and Donald Martin had not spoken to each other, although it was now more than half an hour since the two constables had fetched them. Monica felt herself moving through a barren, arid landscape, her thoughts, her emotions, even her fears, now squeezed dry — passionless and empty. During the first few minutes she had noticed one of the constables eyeing her figure; but, for once, she experienced complete indifference. What a fool she'd been to think that Morse wouldn't guess! Little or nothing seemed to escape that beautifully lucid mind. . Yes, he had guessed the truth, though quite how he had seen through her story she couldn't begin to understand. Funny, really. It hadn't been a big lie, at all. Not like the stupid, stupid lies that she and Donald had told at the beginning. Donald! What a non-man he now seemed, sitting there next to her: sullen, silent, contemptible; as hopeless as she, for there was little chance for him, either. The truth would have to come out — all of it. The courts, the newspapers. . For a moment she managed to feel a fraction of sympathy for him, for it was her fault really, not his. From the day of his appointment she had known, known instinctively, that she could do with him exactly as she wished. .

The door opened and Lewis came in. 'Will you please come with me, Miss Height?'

She got to her feet slowly and walked up the wooden stairs. The door of the Board Room was closed and she hesitated a few seconds as Lewis opened it and stood aside for her. The burden on her conscience had become intolerable. Yes, it would be relief at last.

Mrs. Seth turned her head as the door behind her opened. The Inspector had just been talking about Studio 2 in Walton Street; but her mind was growing numb and she had hardly been able to follow him. She heard a man's voice say quietly, 'After you, Miss Height.' Monica Height! Dear God, no! It couldn't be. Monica Height and Martin! She'd heard rumours, of course. Everyone must have heard rumours but. . Monica was sitting in Roope's seat now. Roope's! Had Morse meant Roope and Monica? Two people, he'd said. . But Morse was speaking again.

'Miss Height. I interviewed you early on in the case, and you claimed you had spent the afternoon of Friday, 21st November, with Mr. Martin. Is that correct?'

'Yes.' Her voice was almost inaudible.

'And you said that you had spent the afternoon at your own house?'

'Yes.'

'And subsequently you agreed that this was not the truth?'

'Yes.'

'You said that in fact you had spent the afternoon with Mr. Martin at Studio 2 in Walton Street?'

'Yes.'

'When I originally questioned you about this, I asked whether, apart from Mr. Martin, you had seen anyone you knew in the cinema. Do you remember?'

'Yes, I remember.'

'And your answer was that you had not?'

'Yes; I told you the truth.'

'I then asked you whether you had seen anyone you knew going into the cinema, did I not?'

'Yes.'

'And you said "no".'

'Yes.'

'And you still stick by what you said?'

'Yes.'

'You saw a film called The Nymphomaniac? '

'Yes.'

'And you stayed with Mr. Martin until the film was finished?'

'We left just a few minutes before it was due to finish.'

'Am I right, Miss Height, in saying that I could have asked you a different question? A question which might have had a vital bearing on the murder of Nicholas Quinn?'

'Yes.'

'And that question would not have been "Who did you see going into the cinema?" but "Who did you see coming out? " '

'Yes.'

'And you did see somebody?'

'Yes.'

'Could you recognize the person you saw coming out of Studio 2 that day?'