Evanly Bodies - By Rhys Bowen Page 0,63

Conwy and Caernarfon. On this cloudy autumn morning the effect was just plain dreary, as Evan drove past factories, warehouses, and plenty of newly built housing developments. It was on the grandly named Prince of Wales Crescent in one of these new housing estates that the Owens lived. A modest, two-story semidetached home, flat fronted, made of yellow brick and wood facing, just like the one next to it and the rest of the street.

A squad car from the local police station was already outside, and the crime scene had already been secured. The fresh-faced female constable standing guard looked green around the gills. She'd probably had a peek at what lay inside, Evan thought.

"Is anyone with the widow?" Bragg asked.

"Yes, Sergeant Hopkins," she said. Then timidly, "Excuse me, sir, but who are you?"

"DI Bragg. The senior officer assigned to this case," he said. "Do you need to check my warrant card?"

"Oh no, sir. I saw you arrive in a police car," she said.

"Make sure you keep everyone well away. We don't want any gawkers. And don't let any reporters anywhere near the house. Tell them there will be a statement later," Bragg said. "Come on, you lot. Let's go and see what we've got here."

They walked up the front path beside a sad-looking lawn. Gardening was clearly not the hobby of the occupants here. Bragg pushed the front door open and went in. The kitchen door ahead of them was open and they spotted the back of a man in blue uniform. He turned when he heard them.

"Are you the blokes in charge? I'm glad you've got here. It's been giving me the creeps being in the house with him."

"DI Bragg," the detective introduced himself. "Let's take a look at what we've got."

"From what it appears, sir," the sergeant began, "I'd guess that somebody shot him through the open window."

"You haven't moved him or touched anything, have you?" Bragg barked.

"Oh no, sir. He was so clearly dead when I got here. I don't know whether his wife tried to move him. I was just using my powers of observation."

"Quite correctly, as it turns out," Bragg said. "Now be a good lad and wait for the doctor and forensics to get here while we have a look. There's not enough room to swing a cat in here."

He went through into a tiny box of a kitchen. It was neatly designed with built-in cabinets down one wall, cooker and sink along another. Squeezed in by the window was the smallest of dinette tables with two chairs. It was across this table that the body was sprawled. Evan could see that he was wearing a dark green T-shirt and jeans. He was still half sitting on one of the chairs, which had obviously stopped him from sliding down to the floor. Blood had spattered everywhere, spattering those new white cabinets and even the ceiling above.

"I'd say this one was shot at closer range, wouldn't you?" Bragg remarked, stepping nearer gingerly. "Literally blew his brains out."

"Maybe you should wait for the tech boys to get here, sir," Wingate suggested. "You could be disturbing the blood-spatter patterns."

"I know what I'm doing, Wingate," Bragg said, but he retreated to the hallway.

"The back window's still open this time," he said. "Let's go and take a look outside. Not the back door, Pritchard," he bawled, army fashion. "We don't want to disturb any evidence, do we? We'll approach from the front."

They went back through the front door, around to the right side of the house. On this side there was a narrow concrete driveway, leading to one of those free-standing prefab garages. A Ford Festiva was parked in front of the garage. A side gate, between the house and garage, led through to the back garden. The gate was open and Bragg led them through this way. It opened onto a narrow concrete area with the house on one side of it and the garage on the other. Some straggly bushes had been planted in front of the garage, in an attempt to disguise what was a very ugly building.

It appeared that Megan Owens had carried her groceries through this way from the car directly into the kitchen. This was confirmed as they saw several shopping bags lying on the step outside the kitchen door. She had put down her bags to open the back door, then seen what lay inside and forgotten about them. Bragg stepped around them.

"Another easy target," he said. "You could stand between