Colin Dexter - The Silent World Of Nicholas Quinn

'We should have examined the boot, I suppose, sir.'

'But I did. There were no traces of Quinn at all. That's why I think Bartlett may have used a container of some sort.'

Then he goes out to join the rest of the staff—'

Morse nodded 'Standing meekly outside in the cold, yes. He takes over the list, which by this time has been handed round the thirty or so permanent staff, ticks in himself and Quinn as present, and finally decides that all are accounted for.'

'And it was Bartlett who rang the school in Bradford?'

'Certainly. Doubtless he'd been looking out for anything that could be used to help mislead the inevitable investigation, and he must have seen that particular letter in Quinn's tray in the registry earlier that week. If you remember, it was postmarked Monday, 17th November.'

'Then he went home and had a hearty lunch.'

'I doubt it,' said Morse. 'Bartlett's a very clever man, but basically he's not as ruthless as someone like Roope. Anyway, he's still got a lot on his mind. Certainly the trickier half of the plan is over, but he hasn't finished yet. He must have left home at about ten past one, telling his wife — perfectly correctly — that he had to call in at the office before going off to his meeting in Banbury. But before he did that—'

'He called in at Studio 2.'

'Yes. Bartlett bought a ticket, had it torn through, asked the usherette where the "Gents" was, waited there a few minutes, and then nipped out when the girl in the ticket office was busy with one or two more clients. But after that things began to go awry. Not that Bartlett saw Monica Height — I'm pretty sure of that. But she saw him, coming out of Studio 2. Monica and Donald Martin, remember want to spend the afternoon together. They can't go to her place, because her daughter's home from school; they can't go to his, because his wife's there all the time; they can go somewhere in the car, but that's hardly a romantic proposition on a rainy November afternoon. So they decide to go to the pictures. But they mustn't be seen going in together; so Martin gets there fairly early, soon after the doors open, and buys a ticket for the rear lounge and sits there waiting. Monica's due to come a few minutes later, and he's straining his eyes and watching everybody who comes in. Now get this clear in your mind, Lewis. If Quinn had gone into Studio 2 that afternoon, Martin would certainly have seen him. He'd have seen Bartlett, too. And if he'd seen either of them, he wouldn't have stayed . He'd have left immediately, waited discreetly outside for Monica, and told her the bad news. But he did no such thing! Now, put yourself in Monica's shoes. When we questioned her — and Martin — one thing became quite clear: they'd seen the film ; and they certainly wouldn't have done that if any other member of the Syndicate had come in . There was only one explanation: Monica had seen something that, in the light of what she learned later, troubled her sorely. Yet whatever it was, it had not prevented her from joining Martin inside the cinema, all right? We can only draw one conclusion: she saw someone coming out . And that someone was Bartlett! He goes back to the Syndicate and he's got a ticket. But where is he to leave it? He could leave it in Quinn's room, because he's got to go in there anyway to leave the note for Margaret Freeman, and to open the cabinets. Bit careless of Bartlett that, when you come to think of it. .' Morse shook his head as if a fly had alighted on his balding patch. But whatever was troubling him, he let it go. 'Just remember that all this had to be planned meticulously in advance, and from this point onwards things had to be arranged to meet Roope's convenience, not Bartlett's. Roope has dutifully fixed himself up with a water-tight alibi until late afternoon, but now he needs some plausible reason for visiting the Syndicate. He couldn't know — nor could Bartlett — that not one of the graduate staff would be there; so it's arranged that he will leave some papers in Bartlett's office. You see, if anyone else is around, he hasn't got much excuse poking around in Quinn's office. He'll have to go there later, of course, to get the anorak; but by then he'll have been able to see the lie of the land and he can play things by ear. So they've decided between them that the cinema ticket and Quinn's keys are to be left somewhere carefully concealed on Bartlett's desk or in one of his drawers. Well? What happened then? Roope knocks on Bartlett's door, gets no answer, goes in quickly, leaves his papers, and picks up the ticket and the keys. Easy. Originally the plan must have been for him to hang around somewhere, probably by the trees at the back, until the rest of the graduate staff went home. Then he would only have to nip in the back entrance, pick up the anorak from Quinn's office, and drive off in Quinn's car. But in fact it was easier than he could have hoped. Noakes, it's true, was an unforeseen problem, but as things turned out this helped him enormously. Noakes was able to confirm that none of the graduate staff was in his office that afternoon . And when he told Roope that he was off upstairs for a cup of tea, the coast was clear — half an hour or so earlier than he'd expected it to be.'

'And from then onwards it must have gone very much as you said before.'

'Except for one thing. I suggested to Roope when we first brought him in that he'd pocketed the note from Quinn's desk; but I don't think he could have done. Otherwise I can think of no earthly reason why he had to phone Bartlett when he discovered the shattering information that Mrs. Evans was going to return. It was the worst moment of the lot, I should think, and Roope almost panicked. The rain was sluicing down outside, and he couldn't just dump the body and run for it Mrs. Greenaway — he must have seen her — was sitting in full view in the room upstairs with the curtains open, and there was only one way for Quinn's body to be carted out, and that was by the front door of the garage. There was nothing to do but to wait; but he couldn't wait there . He must have been feeling desperate when he rang up Bartlett; but Bartlett came up with the masterstroke — the note on Quinn's desk! It was a wonderful piece of luck but, my God! they needed some luck at that stage. Bartlett had only just got back from Banbury, but he drove off again almost immediately, called in at the Syndicate for the note, and met Roope as arranged at the shopping area behind Pinewood Close, where Roope had already bought the groceries. I suppose it must have taken Bartlett at least twenty minutes, but time was still on their side — just. Roope got back to Quinn's, took off his muddy boots, left the note — and went out again. He must have got wet through; but imagine his immense relief, as he watched and waited, first to see Mrs. Evans come and go, and then, almost miraculously, an ambulance draw up and take. Mrs. Greenaway off to the maternity hospital. The house was in darkness then; no one was about; the street lamp was broken; the curtain could go up on the last act. He carries Quinn's body to the back door and into the house, puts it on the carpet by the chair in the living-room, arranges the sherry bottle and the glass on the coffee table, lights the fire — and Bob's your uncle. He walks over the back field again, and catches a bus down to Oxford.'

Lewis reflected. Yes, that's how it must have happened all right, but one thing still puzzled him mightily: 'What about Ogleby? Where does he fit in?'

'As I've told you, Lewis, a good deal of what Ogleby told us was true, and I think he was virtually certain that Bartlett had killed Quinn long before I ever—'

'Why did he keep it all to himself, though?'

'I dunno. I suppose he must have been trying to prove something to himself before—'