Read Online Morse's Greatest Mystery and Other Stories by Colin Dexter - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Colin Dexter
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say?”
“Yes. He’s a parson.”
“I don’t think there’s anyone—”
“Yes, there is. You’ll find one of your ambulances picked him up from Elsfield Way about—”
“Oh,
that
. Yes, we sent an ambulance all right, but when we got there, the fellow had gone. No one seemed to know where he was. Just vanished! Not a sign—”
But the Governor was no longer listening, and the truth seemed to hit him with an almost physical impact somewhere in the back of his neck.
A quarter of an hour later they found the Reverend S. McLeery, securely bound and gagged, in his study in Broad Street. He’d been there, he said, since 8:15 A.M. , when two men had called and …
Enquiries in Newbury throughout the afternoon produced nothing. Nothing at all. And by tea-time everyone in the prison knew what had happened. It had not been Evans, impersonating McLeery, who had walked
out;
it had been Evans, impersonating McLeery, who had stayed
in
.
The fish and chips were delicious, and after a gentle stroll round the centre of Chipping Norton, Evans decided to return to the hotel and have an early night. A smart new hat concealed the wreckage of his closely cropped hair, and he kept it on as he walked up to the reception desk of the Golden Lion. It would take a good while for his hair to regain its former glories—but what the hell did
that
matter. He was
out
again, wasn’t he? A bit of bad luck,that, when Jackson had pinched his scissors, for it had meant a long and tricky operation with his only razor blade the previous night Ah! But he’d had his good luck, too. Just think! If Jackson had made him take his bobble hat off! Phew! That really
had
been a close call. Still, old Jackson wasn’t such a bad fellow … One of the worst things—funny, really!—had been the beard. He’d always been allergic to sticking plaster, and even now his chin was irritatingly sore and red.
The receptionist wasn’t the same girl who’d booked him in, but the change was definitely for the better. A real honey, this one. As he collected his key, he gave her his sexiest smile, told her he wouldn’t be bothering with breakfast, ordered the
Dally Express
, and asked for an early-morning call at 6:45 A.M. Tomorrow was going to be another busy day.
He whistled softly to himself as he walked up the broad stairs … He’d sort of liked the idea of being dressed up as a minister—dog-collar and everything. Yes, it had been a jolly good idea for “McLeery” to wear
two
black fronts,
two
collars. But that top collar! Phew! It had kept on slipping off the back stud; and there’d been that one panicky moment when “McLeery” had only just got his hand up to his neck in time to stop the collars springing apart before Stephens … Ah! They’d got
that
little problem worked out all right, though: a pen stuck in the mouth whenever the evil eye had appeared at the peep-hole. Easy! But all that fiddling about under the blanket with the black front and the stud at the back of the collar—that had been far more difficult than they’d ever bargained for … Everything else had gone beautifully smoothly, though. In the car he’d found everything they’d promised him: soap and water, clothes, the map—yes,the
map
, of course. The Ordnance Survey Map of Oxfordshire … He’d got some good friends; some very clever friends. Christ, ah!
He unlocked his bedroom door and closed it quietly behind him—and then stood frozen to the spot, like a man who has just caught a glimpse of the Gorgon.
Sitting on the narrow bed was the very last man in the world that Evans had expected—or wanted—to see.
“It’s not worth trying anything,” said the Governor quietly, as Evans’s eyes darted desperately around the room. “I’ve got men all round the place.” (Well, there were only
two
, really: but Evans needn’t know that.) He let the words sink in. “Women, too. Didn’t you think the blonde girl in reception was rather sweet?”
Evans
“Yes. He’s a parson.”
“I don’t think there’s anyone—”
“Yes, there is. You’ll find one of your ambulances picked him up from Elsfield Way about—”
“Oh,
that
. Yes, we sent an ambulance all right, but when we got there, the fellow had gone. No one seemed to know where he was. Just vanished! Not a sign—”
But the Governor was no longer listening, and the truth seemed to hit him with an almost physical impact somewhere in the back of his neck.
A quarter of an hour later they found the Reverend S. McLeery, securely bound and gagged, in his study in Broad Street. He’d been there, he said, since 8:15 A.M. , when two men had called and …
Enquiries in Newbury throughout the afternoon produced nothing. Nothing at all. And by tea-time everyone in the prison knew what had happened. It had not been Evans, impersonating McLeery, who had walked
out;
it had been Evans, impersonating McLeery, who had stayed
in
.
The fish and chips were delicious, and after a gentle stroll round the centre of Chipping Norton, Evans decided to return to the hotel and have an early night. A smart new hat concealed the wreckage of his closely cropped hair, and he kept it on as he walked up to the reception desk of the Golden Lion. It would take a good while for his hair to regain its former glories—but what the hell did
that
matter. He was
out
again, wasn’t he? A bit of bad luck,that, when Jackson had pinched his scissors, for it had meant a long and tricky operation with his only razor blade the previous night Ah! But he’d had his good luck, too. Just think! If Jackson had made him take his bobble hat off! Phew! That really
had
been a close call. Still, old Jackson wasn’t such a bad fellow … One of the worst things—funny, really!—had been the beard. He’d always been allergic to sticking plaster, and even now his chin was irritatingly sore and red.
The receptionist wasn’t the same girl who’d booked him in, but the change was definitely for the better. A real honey, this one. As he collected his key, he gave her his sexiest smile, told her he wouldn’t be bothering with breakfast, ordered the
Dally Express
, and asked for an early-morning call at 6:45 A.M. Tomorrow was going to be another busy day.
He whistled softly to himself as he walked up the broad stairs … He’d sort of liked the idea of being dressed up as a minister—dog-collar and everything. Yes, it had been a jolly good idea for “McLeery” to wear
two
black fronts,
two
collars. But that top collar! Phew! It had kept on slipping off the back stud; and there’d been that one panicky moment when “McLeery” had only just got his hand up to his neck in time to stop the collars springing apart before Stephens … Ah! They’d got
that
little problem worked out all right, though: a pen stuck in the mouth whenever the evil eye had appeared at the peep-hole. Easy! But all that fiddling about under the blanket with the black front and the stud at the back of the collar—that had been far more difficult than they’d ever bargained for … Everything else had gone beautifully smoothly, though. In the car he’d found everything they’d promised him: soap and water, clothes, the map—yes,the
map
, of course. The Ordnance Survey Map of Oxfordshire … He’d got some good friends; some very clever friends. Christ, ah!
He unlocked his bedroom door and closed it quietly behind him—and then stood frozen to the spot, like a man who has just caught a glimpse of the Gorgon.
Sitting on the narrow bed was the very last man in the world that Evans had expected—or wanted—to see.
“It’s not worth trying anything,” said the Governor quietly, as Evans’s eyes darted desperately around the room. “I’ve got men all round the place.” (Well, there were only
two
, really: but Evans needn’t know that.) He let the words sink in. “Women, too. Didn’t you think the blonde girl in reception was rather sweet?”
Evans
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