Evanly Bodies - By Rhys Bowen Page 0,14

developing a new bomb, is it? He was a historian, specializing in the eighteenth century. I don't think any of his work was earth-shattering enough to steal-or to kill him for."

She swayed suddenly and grabbed onto the banister. "I'm afraid I really do need to sit down for a while. This has been all too much for me."

"Quite understandable," Inspector Bragg said. "I think I've got everything I need for now, Mrs. Rogers. Of course the forensic team will need to take your fingerprints when they get here, but for now I suggest that you go back to your room and lie down. We'll have Constable Evans fetch your dog for you."

"Thank you. You're most kind."

Evan took her arm and escorted her back to the bedroom.

"Just one last thing, Mrs. Rogers," DI Bragg called after her. "Did your husband own a gun?"

"He had several antique guns. He used to use them as visual aids for his lectures. I don't know if any of them actually work anymore."

"And where would we find them?"

"He kept them in one of the drawers of the bureau in the library. I don't think it's locked. I'll show you." She led them down the stairs again, into the library, and pulled open a drawer. Several ancient firearms lay on a velvet backing-what looked like a dueling pistol with a mother-of-pearl handle; a colt revolver, an ancient musket. And one gap, with the imprint of a gun that had lain there.

Chapter 6

"We'll show that gun imprint to the ballistic technician when he gets here," Bragg said, as Evan followed him out of the house and they stood together on the driveway. Bragg glanced out into the street. "They're taking their time, aren't they?"

"The traffic's terrible these days," Evan said. "It sometimes takes ages just to get out of Colwyn Bay."

"So what do you think, Evans?"

Evan was surprised at the question. "What do I think, sir? She certainly loves her dog, doesn't she? The only time we saw any emotion at all was when I brought that dog into the room."

"In the case of a tragedy, you cling to anything familiar, don't you? And dogs are supposed to be a wonderful comfort, aren't they, although I can't see it myself. Peeing and pooping all over the floor and shedding hair wherever they walk. Got a dog yourself?"

"No sir. It wouldn't be fair. My wife and I are out of the house all day. Besides, we're newly married."

"Wouldn't want half her attention going to a dog, eh?" Bragg chuckled.

"Are you married, sir?"

"I was. Nor ready to take that plunge again in a hurry. Let's go and see where Wingate and Pritchard have got to."

He set off ahead of Evan with determined strides.

They found the other two officers in the garden shed.

"I hope you haven't been putting your paws over stuff in here," Bragg said, as he stood in the doorway. "This might be important. A good place to hide out and watch what was going on in the house. There's a clear view from here of the front door."

"We touched a pair of gumboots," Wingate said. "We needed to match them up with a couple of footprints we found. They're lady's size, obviously Mrs. Rogers's."

"Any other prints that don't match these?"

"A couple, sir. Great big boot in some of the flower beds."

"That would probably be the gardener. When we interview him, we must remember to get a print of his boot sole."

Bragg stepped into the shed and sniffed. "Smells like someone's been using an engine of some kind in here. Hot oil smell."

"That's right, sir," Pritchard said. "The lawn mower has been used recently. It was still a little warm."

"Mrs. Rogers said she did a spot of gardening this morning, didn't she?" Evan said.

"So she did. Well, that explains that then. No luck with finding the weapon?"

"No sir. We searched the bushes pretty thoroughly. There's a garden pond. We fished about in it a little, but we didn't find anything. You might want to have it searched more thoroughly if you think that the perpetrator might have got rid of the weapon and not run off with it. If it had been me, I'd have taken it away with me."

"He probably did, but people don't always behave rationally when they've just killed somebody. Sometimes they panic and want to get rid of that weapon as quickly as possible. You'd be amazed where I've found weapons before now. Stashed in the most obvious of places, almost as if the killer