The Silent World Of Nicholas Quinn

'What? Don't be daft I' Almost physically Morse tried to shake off his mood of temporary gloom, and he looked down at the note once more. 'I couldn't have done much better myself.' He said it flippantly, but Lewis knew him better.

'Let's have it, sir.'

'What do you mean?'

'What would you have asked her?'

'Just what you did — I told you.'

'What else?'

Morse appeared to consider the question carefully. 'Perhaps one or two other things.'

'Such as?'

'Perhaps I'd have asked her if she'd looked in the wastepaper basket.'

'Really?' Lewis sounded unimpressed.

'Perhaps I'd have asked her if Quinn's anorak was there.'

'But—' Lewis let it ride.

'I'd certainly have asked her if the gas fire was on.'

Lewis began to catch the drift of Morse's mind, and he nodded slowly to himself. 'I suppose we'd better see her again, sir.'

'Oh yes,' said Morse quietly. 'We shall have to see her again. But that's no problem, is it? The main thing is that we seem to have got Quinn alive till about six o'clock. I wonder. .?' His thoughts floated away again, but suddenly he sat upright and took out his Parker pen. 'There's still a good deal to do here, though, Lewis. Nip and see if he's back from lunch.'

'Who do you mean, sir?'

'I just told you — Martin. You going deaf?'

As Martin painfully corroborated Monica's story, Morse's facial expression was that of a man with a rotten egg stuck just beneath his nose. The pair of them had left the office at about 1.10 pm. No, not together — in separate cars. Yes, to Monica's bungalow. Yes, to bed. (Putrescent, fetid egg!) That was all really. (All! Christ! That was all he'd said.)

'What time did you leave?'

'About a quarter to four.'

'And you didn't come back to the office at all?'

'No. I went straight home.'

'Nice little surprise for your wife.'

Martin was silent.

'Lewis! Go and see Miss Height. You've heard what this man says. Get her story, and see if it fits.'

After Lewis had gone Morse turned to Martin and looked him hard in the eyes. 'You're a cock-happy young sod, aren't you?'

The young man shook his head sadly. 'I'm not really, you — know, Inspector. I've only been unfaithful with Monica, never anyone else.'

'You in love with her?'

'I don't know. This business has — I don't know, Inspector. She's— Ah, what's it matter now!'

'Why did you leave so early?'

'There's Sally — that's Monica's daughter. She usually gets home from school about quarter past four.'

'And you didn't want her to find you shagging her mother, is that it?'

Martin looked up miserably. 'Haven't you ever been unfaithful, Inspector?'

Morse shook his head. 'No, lad. I've never had to be faithful, you see,'

'There's — there's no need for all this to come out, is there?'

'Not really, no. Unless—'

'Unless what?' A look of alarm sprang into Martin's eyes, and Morse did nothing to dispel it.

'Tell me. This girl Sally: is she at school in Oxford?'

'Oxford High School.'

'Bit awkward with examinations, isn't it? I mean, with her mother—'

'No. You don't quite understand, Inspector. This Board doesn't examine in England at all.'

'Who examines Oxford High?'

'Oxford Locals, I think.'

'I see.'