'Yes, of course.' Lewis found himself wishing that Morse was there, but he put the thought aside. A few interesting ideas were beginning to develop. 'You left the note in the lounge?'
'Yes. On the sideboard. I always left a note there at the end of the month — when me four weeks' cleaning was up, like.'
'I see. Can you remember if Mr. Quinn's car was in the garage when you got back?'
'No, Sergeant. I'm sorry. It was raining, and I was on me bike and I just got in as fast as I could. Anyway, why should I look in the garage? I mean—'
'You didn't see Mr. Quinn?'
'No, I didn't.'
'Ah well. Never mind. We're obviously anxious—'
'You think he died on Friday night, then?'
'No, I wouldn't say that. But if we could find what time he got back from the office — well, it would be a great help. For all we know, he didn't get back home at all on Friday night.'
Mrs. Evans looked at him with a puzzled frown. 'But I can tell you what time he got home.'
The room was suddenly very quiet and Lewis looked up tensely from his notes. 'Will you say that again, Mrs. Evans?'
'Oh yes, Sergeant. You see, I left this note for him and he must have seen it.'
'He must have done, you say?'
'Must have done. You just said it was in the wastepaper basket.'
Lewis sank back in the sofa, his excitement ebbing away, he could have found the note any time, I'm afraid, Mrs. Evans.'
'Oh no. You don't understand. He'd seen the note before I got back at quarter past six.' Lewis was sitting very still again and listening intently. 'You see, he left a note for me, so—'
'He left a note for you?'
'Yes. Said he'd gone shopping, or something. I forget exactly — but something like that.'
'So you—' Lewis started again. 'You left the note at four o'clock and went back there at quarter past six, you say?'
'That's right.'
'So you think he must have got home — when? About five?'
'Well, yes. He usually got home about then, I think.'
'You're sure the note was for you?'
'Oh yes. It got me name on it.'
'Can you — can you remember exactly what it said?'
'Not really. But I tell you what, Sergeant: I might have still got it. I probably put it in me pinny, or something. I always wear—'
'Can you try to find it for me?'
As Mrs. Evans went out into the kitchen, Lewis found himself praying to the gods that for once they would smile upon him, and he felt almost sick with relief when she came with a small folded sheet of paper, and handed it to him. He read it with the awesome reverence of a druid brooding on the holy runes:
Mrs. E,
Just off shopping — shan't be long. NQ
It couldn't have been much briefer and it puzzled him a little; but he was fully aware of its huge importance.
' "Shopping", he says. Funny time for shopping, isn't it?'
'Not really, sir. The supermarket's open till nine of a Friday night.'
'The Quality supermarket, is that?'
'Yes, sir. It's only just behind the house, really. There's a pathway by the side of the crescent, and now that the fence is down you can get on to it from the side of the garden.'
Five minutes later Lewis thanked her fulsomely and left. By Jove, old Morse was going to be pleased!
It was just after one when Monica walked into the lounge bar. She spotted Morse immediately (though he appeared not to notice her) and after buying a gin and Campari she walked across and stood beside him. 'Can I get you a drink, Inspector?'
Morse looked up and shook his head. 'I seem to be off the beer today.'
'You weren't yesterday.'
'I wasn't?'
She sat down beside him and brought her lips close to his ear. 'I could smell your breath.'
'You smelled pretty good, too,' said Morse, but he knew that this was not to be a time for high romance. He could read the signs a mile away.
'I thought I might find you here.'
Morse shrugged non-committally. 'What have you got to tell me?'
'You don't beat about the bush, do you?'
'Sometimes I do.'
'Well it's — it's about Friday afternoon.'
'News gets around.'
'You wanted to know what we were all doing on Friday afternoon, is that right?'