Evanly Bodies - By Rhys Bowen Page 0,38

the front door.

Mrs. Rogers looked as if she had come to a meeting with her bank manager when she was ushered into the interview room the next morning. Her hair was in neat waves, she wore a touch of makeup, and she looked smart in her gray wool dress. Yesterday there had been some kind of pearl broach on the dress; Evan remembered. Sharp objects had obviously been removed before she was put in a holding cell.

"Please sit down, Mrs. Rogers." DI Bragg motioned to a chair with unexpected civility. He leaned across and pressed the record button on a tape recorder. "Saturday October third. Nine thirty a.m. Detective Inspector Bragg interviewing Mrs. Madeleine Jane Rogers. Also present in the room: Detective Sergeant Wingate, Detective Constables Evans and Pritchard. Sorry about that, Mrs. Rogers. Just a little formality to make sure this is all conducted by the book." He smiled at her. Evan had to admit he was being unnaturally charming.

"I must apologize for keeping you here overnight. I trust it wasn't too unpleasant."

"Thank you, but everyone was very kind," she said. "I was treated well, and the breakfast was quite edible. In fact it was rather nice to have my breakfast brought to me on a tray for once." There was a hint of a twinkle in her eyes.

"You do understand that we couldn't arrange this meeting until this morning," Bragg said.

"I understand perfectly, Inspector. I wasn't born yesterday. You thought a night in jail might frighten me into a confession. However, I'm afraid I have nothing to confess."

"You have the right to having a lawyer present, you know. That has been made clear to you?" Bragg said.

Her eyes challenged him. "Does that mean that I've been charged with this murder?"

"No. Not yet."

"Then don't you have to charge me or release me? You can't keep me here indefinitely, can you?"

Bragg leaned forward in his seat. "Mrs. Rogers, there's nothing I'd like better than to let you go. You give us some proof that you did not kill your husband, and you can leave anytime you want to."

"I'm afraid I can't do that, Inspector," she said calmly. "I have no proof at all, no alibi really, except for anyone who may have spotted me on my dog walk. My only proof is logic-why would I want to kill Martin? What could I possible gain from it? I have no close family anymore, apart from a sister I rarely see. My life was Martin. We did everything as a couple. By taking him away, I've had my whole life taken away from me."

Bragg continued to lean forward. "Mrs. Rogers, am I right in thinking that your father was in the war?"

"Yes, he was."

"And he served on what front?"

"The war in Asia. He was in Burma and captured by the Japanese. He was lucky to escape with his life. Most of his friends died building the Burma railway."

"And he brought back a Japanese officer's pistol as a souvenir?"

"I believe he did."

"And you own that pistol now?"

"Certainly not. I have no interest in weapons. I didn't even like those gruesome things that Martin collected."

"Your husband didn't have a Japanese pistol in his collection then?"

She smiled at this. "My husband's specialty was eighteenth-century Europe. A Japanese pistol would have been little use in his lectures."

"Did he ever own a pair of dueling pistols? There's only one in his collection at the moment."

"Unfortunately no," she said. "He's been trying for years to complete the pair; but they are much sought after these days, and when they've come up for auction, they've been at a price we couldn't afford."

"So the missing gun in the tray was what?"

"As I told you, Inspector, I have no interest in weapons. Martin never allowed anyone but himself to touch his collections."

"Let's move on. What made you decide to mow the lawn early in the morning when the gardener usually does it?"

"Mow the lawn? When?"

"On Thursday morning, when your husband was killed."

"I most certainly didn't mow the lawn."

"You said you went outside to do a spot of gardening."

"Yes. I weeded a bed, and I took the heads off some late roses."

"Your next-door neighbor heard the lawn mower around eight o'clock and was going to complain when it stopped."

"How strange. I can assure you it wasn't I, Inspector. If somebody used the mower, it was after Lucky and I had left on our walk."

"Who's looking after your dog at the moment, Mrs. Rogers?"

"I asked a friend who does the flowers at church