Read Online Morse's Greatest Mystery and Other Stories by Colin Dexter - Free Book Online

regulation blanket slipping from his shoulders, the front of his closely cropped, irregularly tufted hair awash with fierce red blood which had dripped already through the small black beard, and was even now spreading horribly over the white clerical collar and down into the black clerical front.
    Stephens shouted wildly for Jackson: and the words appeared to penetrate the curtain of blood that veiled McLeery’s ears, for the minister’s hand felt feebly for a handkerchief from his pocket, and held it to his bleeding head, the blood seeping slowly through the white linen. He gave a long low moan, and tried to speak. But his voice trailed away, and by the time Jackson had arrived and despatched Stephens to ring the police and the ambulance, the handkerchief was a sticky, squelchy wodge of cloth.
    McLeery slowly raised himself, his face twisted tightly with pain. “Dinna worry about the ambulance, man! I’m a’ right … I’m a’ right … Get the police! I know … I know where … he …” He closed his eyes and another dip of blood splashed like a huge red raindrop on the wooden floor. His hand felt along the table, found the German question paper, and grasped it tightly in his bloodstained hand. “Get the Governor! I know … I know where Evans …”
    * * *
    Almost immediately sirens were sounding, prison officers barked orders, puzzled prisoners pushed their way along the corridors, doors were banged and bolted, and phones were ringing everywhere. And within a minute McLeery, with Jackson and Stephens supporting him on either side, his face now streaked and caked with drying blood, was greeted in the prison yard by the Governor, perplexed and grim.
    “We must get you to hospital immediately. I just don’t—”
    “Ye’ve called the police?”
    “Yes, yes. They’re on their way. But—”
    “I’m a’ right. I’m a’ right. Look! Look here!” Awkwardly he opened the German question paper and thrust it before the Governor’s face. “It’s there! D’ye see what I
mean
?”
    The Governor looked down and realized what McLeery was trying to tell him. A photocopied sheet had been carefully and cleverly superimposed over the last (originally blank) page of the question paper.
    “Ye see what they’ve done, Governor. Ye see …” His voice trailed off again, as the Governor, dredging the layers of long-neglected learning, willed himself to translate the German text before him:
    Sie sollen dem schon verabredeten Plan genau folgen. Der wichtige Zeitpunkt ist drei Minuten vor Ende des Examens
 … “You must follow the plan already some-thinged. The vital point in time is three minutes before the end of the examination but something something—something something … Don’t hit him too hard—remember, he’s a minister! And don’t overdo the Scots accent when …”
    A fast-approaching siren wailed to its crescendo, thegreat doors of the prison yard were pushed back, and a white police car squealed to a jerky halt beside them.
    Detective Superintendent Carter swung himself out of the passenger seat and saluted the Governor. “What the hell’s happening, sir?” And, turning to McLeery: “Christ! Who’s hit
him
?”
    But McLeery cut across whatever explanation the Governor might have given. “Elsfield Way, officer! I know where Evans …” He was breathing heavily, and leaned for support against the side of the car, where the imprint of his hand was left in tarnished crimson.
    In bewilderment Carter looked to the Governor for guidance. “What—?”
    “Take him with you, if you think he’ll be all right. He’s the only one who seems to know what’s happening.”
    Carter opened the back door and helped McLeery inside; and within a few seconds the car leaped away in a spurt of gravel.
    “Elsfield Way,” McLeery had said; and there it was staring up at the Governor from the last few lines of the German text: “From Elsfield Way drive to the Headington roundabout,