So until the wife is ruled out, she's logically the number-one suspect. The majority of murders are committed by family members or close friends. You should know that. It's very rare you come upon a murder among strangers, outside of the drug scene, of which, I suppose, you've had little experience in your sheltered corner of North Wales."
"We've had a couple of cases, sir," Evan said, "now that they're shipping in drugs from Ireland through Holyhead. There are drugs pretty much everywhere these days, aren't there?"
"I suppose there would be the odd case of drugs among the students at the university here. This man was a professor, wasn't he? The next step will be to speak with his colleagues. There is sometimes bitter rivalry among academics, so I hear. I don't think it should take us long at all to have this case wrapped up."
"No sir," Evan said, and followed Bragg up the thick Axminster carpet of the staircase.
Chapter 5
DI Bragg tapped on a bedroom door then entered without waiting for a summons. Evan followed. The room was in the same good taste as the downstairs had been-pale, striped wallpaper; Regency chest of drawers; built-in, white-painted wardrobes; a good nineteenth-century watercolor of Mount Snowdon on the wall. A sewing basket and a half finished tapestry lay on the bedside table. A slim, gray-haired woman sat stiff and upright on the bed, staring away from them, out of the window, while a policewoman perched awkwardly in a white wicker chair.
It took the woman on the bed a moment to react to the sound of the door opening and turn her head toward the men who had just come into her bedroom. She looked at them with neither interest nor surprise, her face a mask of composure apart from lips pressed firmly together.
"I thought you were supposed to be resting, Mrs. Rogers," DI Bragg said.
"The doctor prescribed a sedative, but she wouldn't take it," the WPC said, as if this had personally offended her. "I've tried to get her to lie down at least and drink some hot tea for the shock."
"As if I could rest at a time like this," Mrs. Rogers said. Her voice was soft but smooth and cultured. "My husband's body lying downstairs, blood all over my kitchen, and you tell me to rest?"
"I understand what you must be going through. I'm Detective Inspector Bragg. I'll be handling this case. This is Detective Constable Evans, who'll be taking notes as we talk. You do feel up to talking, don't you?"
"Yes. I can talk. It's better than sitting here and thinking," she said.
"Good. Let's start at the beginning then. Your full name is?"
"Madeleine Jane Rogers. I'm usually called Missy. It's a childhood nickname that stuck."
"And you've been married to Martin Rogers for how long?"
"Twenty-nine years, almost thirty. Our anniversary would have been this November."
"Any children?"
"Unfortunately no. We couldn't have children. It's always been my great regret."
Bragg cleared his throat. "Right. Let's get to this morning then, shall we?"
"Yes. Very well. It was just the same as every other morning. I always get up first. I lay the table and prepare the breakfast; then I take the dog for a walk."
"No servants in the house?"
"Servants?" She made a sound that was half laugh, half cough. "How much do you think university professors earn, Inspector? When Martin's father grew up in this house, there was a pack of servants, but we're now down to a cleaning lady, once a week, and a gardener who does the heavy jobs for me."
"I see. You don't usually eat breakfast with your husband then?"
"No. I'm always up at six or six thirty. Martin never rises before eight. I-I don't sleep too well."
"And this morning you were up at your usual time?"
"Yes. I got up at about six thirty, made myself a cup of tea, ate a slice of toast and marmalade, and read the paper. I took Martin up a cup of tea about seven fifteen. Then I went outside and did a spot of gardening. Then about seven forty-five, I boiled him an egg and called up the stairs to say it was ready. He said he'd be down right away. I put the egg and the toast on the table, poured him a cup of tea, and then shouted up the stairs again to remind him not to let the yolk get hard. He hated eggs with hard yolks. Then I took the dog for a walk, the way I always do."
Evan looked