Evanly Bodies - By Rhys Bowen Page 0,83

for the rest of her life."

"They'll probably get out early with good behavior," Bragg said easily. Evan could see he was actually enjoying this, anticipating the pat on the back that would come from solving a tricky case. He turned away and stared out of the window. He pictured Missy Rogers, Pamela Alessi, and then little Megan Owens behind bars and felt almost physically sick. But what should I have done, he wondered. Should I have seen those names and said nothing? And let them walk free to live with their own consciences and us with an unsolved murder case? And grudgingly he had to admit that Bragg was right. The law was the law, and it wasn't up to him to play God.

Chapter 27

By that evening a statement had been obtained from each of the women, now with an elderly local solicitor in attendance. Evan found the man ineffective and wished he knew how to summon up a dynamic and forceful lawyer who might have prevented the women from saying the wrong thing. After Megan Owens had broken down in hysterical tears, it occurred to Evan that he might know where to find such a person. He excused himself from the room and called Bronwen, who gave him Miss Prender-gast's number. She listened while he explained rapidly. "But this is terrible," she said. "I can't believe that you are calling me for help, Constable Evans. You betrayed those women's trust. You betrayed my trust."

"No, I didn't," he said. "My job is to solve crimes. All I did was to have the three women brought into the same room. They confessed to everything."

"But anything you saw while you were at that house was confidential information. You agreed to that."

"In Jamila's case, yes, but I'm a police officer. If I've picked up a clue to the whereabouts of a murderer, what else did you expect me to do?"

"Say nothing, as agreed."

"And let someone who has killed another human being walk free?"

There was a silence.

Evan cleared his throat uneasily. "Look, I agree it was probably a dirty trick to confront them with each other like that, but it was my job to do so. I'm paid to solve crimes, you know. And now we've solved it, but I'm feeling really terrible about it. So I wondered if you had access to a lawyer who could handle their case better. One who is experienced in litigation like theirs. I don't want them to go to prison anymore than you do."

"I'll see what I can do," she said frostily. "But you have undoubtedly blighted three lives."

"What would you have done?" he asked. "Would you have walked away after you discovered the truth and said nothing?"

She paused for a while. "Yes, I believe I would have," she said.

Evan hung up. At least now he had done what he could, and he hoped Miss Prendergast would know where to find a better lawyer who would at least give the women a fighting chance. He came back to find Bragg finishing up a report.

"Drinks all around, I think, for a job well done. I'm buying at the Queen's Head. Ready, boys?"

Evan tried to hide his utter dislike of the man as he looked at him. Actually celebrating the destruction of three decent women, women who had already suffered more than enough. There was nothing Evan wanted less in the world than to go for drinks in celebration. And yet he knew he had to go. He was part of a team. He did what he was told to do. And he was in serious need of a pint.

The bar at the Queen's Head was noisy and lively. A group of young people were huddled around a jukebox that was blasting out heavy metal music, filling the bar with the smoke from their cigarettes. Blue-collar workers from nearby factories rubbed shoulders with blokes in suits and fashionably dressed young women. It was the sort of lively scene he usually quite enjoyed, but not this time.

"Cheer up, Evans. You'll probably get a promotion out of this," Bragg said, after he had downed his first pint in a couple of slugs. He leaned closer. "Listen, lad. When you know more about women, like I do, you'll realize that they can turn on the waterworks any time they want and look you straight in the face and tell a barefaced lie. The fair sex-not bloody likely. The tricky sex, the unreliable sex, that's what they are; and to tell you the