Endeavour Page #4

my lads do the same.

Right, you'd better

come through.

Have you seen Johnny?

Where were you

Saturday night, Mr. Franks?

Railway Arms, in Didcot.

Anyone vouch for you?

Yeah.

The rest of the team.

Darts.

Play in a league.

We were away to Didcot

on Saturday.

What time did that finish?

11:
00-ish.

Suppose got home

around midnight.

Right, then?

Not quite.

Understand you knew

Mary Tremlett.

Yeah, slightly.

It was more than slightly,

wasn't it?

You were her boyfriend.

Don't know where you got that.

Look, I've got a few birds

on the go,

but Mary weren't one of them.

Mean, might've given her

some old chat,

but that's as far as it went.

What about Valerie Quillen?

What about her?

Well, she had a fight with Mary.

Over you.

The other week.

Wouldn't know about that.

A lot of young girls hang around

the garages, Constable.

You know what they're like

at that age... lad mad.

They get an idea

in their head, what can you do?

Mary did have a boyfriend,

as it goes, but it weren't me.

Miles something.

A college sort.

Begins with a P.

Miles Percival?

Yep, that's it... Miles Percival.

You want to know about Mary,

you should go talk to him.

Mary broke it off with Miles

six months ago.

Was he sleeping with her?

What sort

of a question is that?

She was 15.

He wanted to marry her,

for God's sake.

He said he was saving himself.

Was Miles Percival keen

on crosswords, Mr. Lomax?

Miles?

God, no!

No, couldn't stick

a crossie at any price.

Didn't have that kind of mind.

Used to drive him nuts.

You did?

Hey, look, you've no idea

what he was like.

It was awful.

After she left him,

he was either drunk or...

In the end he got it

into his head

that she was seeing

someone else.

Did he say who?

Uh...

He thought that...

That's absurd.

You did know her, though?

Miles brought her

to a drinks party.

She seemed very personable.

Very quick witted.

Really, it was just one

of those stupid things.

One of the younger dons

mentioned that it was a pity

we didn't see more people

like that coming to Oxford.

Like what?

Well, of her class.

The wine was in, suppose,

but Reece hit upon

a wheeze to see if,

with a bit of coaching,

we couldn't convince the Bursar

that she was an undergrad.

At Lady Matilda's, do you see?

Alexander Reece?

Why, do you know him?

Yes.

Would've scared the

Bursar half to death

to hear the finer points

of Pindar's monostrophic odes

discussed in an accent

rather more town than gown.

And was he?

Scared half to death.

In the event,

the opportunity never arose.

You couldn't inveigle

Mary Tremlett

to join your subterfuge?

On the contrary,

she was all for it.

Someone taking

an interest in her.

Imagine she was flattered.

Imagine she was.

Now, if you've any more

questions, Morse,

I'm afraid you'll have to put

them to me on the hoof.

When did you last see Mary?

Sometime earlier in the year.

And when you were tutoring her.

Once a week, once a fortnight.

Something like that.

After lectures.

At home.

A case of when

one could fit her in.

Since you knew Mary,

I'm bound to ask where

you were Saturday night.

Was at home.

Anyone confirm that?

My wife.

Your wife has choir practice

on a Saturday evening,

doesn't she?

Look, whatever Miles Percival

may have thought,

my relationship

with Mary Tremlett

was based wholly on

an academic experiment.

Did she prove

an apt pupil, Dr. Stromming?

She had a facility

for conning by rote.

But I'm afraid, after a while,

what had in one's cups

seemed amusing

no longer felt... quite right.

Alex?

Oh, say.

Full marks.

You timed that one rather well,

didn't you?

Scoff.

And a bloody good

claret or two, of course.

Free and gratis.

Oh, if it's all the same...

On duty, suppose.

There is something need

to talk to you about.

Mary Tremlett.

This bet that you have got

with Rowan Stromming...

Oh, see.

Donald.

Yes, was wondering why you

were creeping about in college.

Was there anything more

to their relationship?

Aside from this bet?

Well, wouldn't have thought so.

Filled a sweater well enough,

but a mite odalisque

to my taste.

Tout avec f rites, suppose.

Take the girl out of Cowley.

You didn't use to be so cruel.

Poor old Morse.

You were never Oxford material.

Too bloody decent by half.

Abingdon 4185.

Yes.

Yes, have.

Shocking.

No.

Well, think that's wise.

Listen, I'm just about

to leave for London.

You can reach me there

if there's anything

you think should know.

Flaxman one-seven-double eight.

All right?

...But that the

involvement of British forces

in the crisis

remained unlikely.

Meanwhile, there are reports

of fighting

between South and North

Vietnamese troops in Dong Xiao.

In other news,

an early hand-written draft

of Ozymandias

by the poet

Percy Bysshe Shelley

is to go on show at the

Bodleian Library in Oxford.

Gifted to the library

in 1893...

"Boundless and bare,

the lone and level sands

stretch far away. "

Detective Constable Morse.

What brings you here?

" Met a traveler

"from an antique land,

who said two vast

"and trunkless legs of stone

stand in the desert.

"And on the pedestal

these words appear:"

"'My name is Ozymandias,"

King of Kings

'Look on my works,

ye mighty, and despair!

I'm afraid don't...

Oh, think you do,

Dr. Stromming.

Or would you prefer Oz?

Ozymandias.

"Look on my works,

ye mighty, and despair. "

But then, crossword setters

aren't exactly famed

for a lack of self-regard.

The gentle teacher

bestowing wisdom

upon the young and eager pupil?

It may even have

started out that way.

But it's not how it ended up,

is it?

What happened,

Dr. Stromming?

Did you tire of her

just as quickly,

once the shine was off it?

Or was your wife

getting suspicious?

Rosalind had no idea.

Did Mary Tremlett threaten

to tell her, then?

Is that it?

She wouldn't go quietly?

Is that why you lured her

to Bagley Wood?

What?

It's here, Doctor.

In black and white.

First across,

"Where most the gypsies

"by the turf-edged way

pitch their

smoked tents. "

Answer, six and four.

Bagley Wood.

Last down,

"How many cowgirls?"

Five letters.

Answer, eight.

Don't understand.

Oh, you understand

all too well, Doctor.

You were to meet Mary Tremlett

Saturday night at 8:00

at Bagley Wood,

while your wife was safely out

of the way at choir practice.

Didn't set Bagley Wood.

Not last Saturday, anyway.

Set Hinksey.

And it was 6:
00, not 8:00.

This is next week's puzzle.

Next week's?

Any setter worth the name

will keep a few grids

ahead of himself,

just in case he's taken ill.

Here.

You see?

Hinksey. 6:
00.

This is the grid meant to send.

So that's why

she didn't turn up.

Submitted the wrong puzzle.

Rowan handed me the envelope

to post, as usual,

but what with rehearsals,

it completely went

out of my mind.

So what happened?

Come Wednesday, it was still

on the mantelpiece.

And was about to run it

into town myself

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