Evanly Bodies - By Rhys Bowen Page 0,82

went to post the package with the gun in it to Megan. I said I had to go out for butter. The kind constable offered to go for me, but I needed the sub-post office at the back of the corner shop, so I convinced him that fresh air would do me good."

She gave a wistful smile. "I'm not sorry either. I'm fed up with years of lying, saying I fell down the stairs, I burned myself on the iron, to cover up for the way he bashed me around. And like Missy, he never let me out of his sight either. Always wanted to know where I'd been, who I'd spoken to. And heaven help me if I chatted to one of the customers if I was helping out in the caf茅. If I'm going to hell for killing him, I don't really care. What I've gone through was worse than hell."

"I've been through hell too," Megan said. "But I still can't help feeling terrible about it. My Terry wasn't always like that, you know. We were in love once. He was lovely when we were going out together. Then he got laid off, and he felt angry and powerless so he just took it out on me."

"Don't make excuses for him," Missy said. "We've all spent too many years making excuses. If I had cooked the meat the way Martin liked it, if I had ironed his favorite shirt better, I wouldn't have made him angry. That's how those men operate. They want us to feel guilty for pushing them over the top."

Pamela Alessi was nodding as she spoke. "And afterward he'd be loving and sweet as if nothing had happened. He'd go out and buy me presents. Bastards, all of them. I'm staying away from men from now on."

"And the weapon," Bragg asked. "The one we'll never find?"

"It was, as you correctly established, my father's from the last war. Taken from a captured Japanese officer. A bit of a trophy. And light enough for amateurs like us to handle."

"But you're not going to tell us where it is?"

"No." She eyed him steadily. "And you haven't yet formally charged us, Inspector. So before we proceed, I think we should have a solicitor present. And while one is being found, I should like to go home and make arrangements for my dog." She saw Bragg open his mouth to speak and gave a scornful smile. "Oh, don't worry. You can send an officer with me if you like. I wouldn't dream of leaving my sisters to face this alone."

Bragg looked at the other officers with a triumphant smile as the door closed. "We did it," he said. "We bloody well pulled it off. Well done, Evans, for spotting those names. Very sharp of you. A nice open-and-shut case with a full confession, that's what I like."

"But they won't be charged with murder, will they?" Evan asked.

"Of course they will. Shot their husbands in cold blood."

"But the court will consider the extenuating circumstances," Evan insisted. "They were in fear of their lives. Their husbands had battered them and threatened to kill them . . ."

"Not at the moment they fired the gun. The prosecution will say it was premeditated murder. I reckon they'll get life."

"But we can't let that happen!" Evan banged a hand on the table. "That's not justice, is it?"

Bragg looked up in surprise. "Quite the little orator, isn't he? Listen, lad, it's not our job to decide what is justice and what is not. We bring in the guilty party, and the court takes it from there. It's over as far as we're concerned, apart from getting them to make a statement, which we'll do later today."

"But those poor women. You heard what life was like for them." Evan looked at Wingate for confirmation.

"The prosecutor will say they could have walked out at any time they liked. It didn't have to end in death," Bragg said.

"I'm sure the defense will produce psychologists who will talk about post traumatic stress and inability to make valid decisions and all that kind of stuff," Wingate said. "I know how you feel, Evan. This leaves a nasty taste in my mouth too. I had to evict a family from a house once. I felt like a heel."

"And I had to hold back local farmers while their sheep were slaughtered during the hoof-and-mouth epidemic," Evan said. "But neither of those are the same as knowing you've locked away an essentially good person