Page 47 of Corpse in the Canal

“You believe he needs that alibi?” Constance asked.

Daphne’s smile faded. “Not unless you got it in for him, and you’re not even the law. Bad enough poor Percy’s dead without you trying to make out my husband shot him.”

Constance held her belligerent stare. “He has a history of violence, does he not?”

“What, a few pub brawls?” Daphne said scornfully. “He don’t fight himself, you know.”

“Why are you so defensive of him?” Solomon asked. “The man beat you badly enough to warrant the doctor telling him off and the vicar preaching a sermon against such acts.”

“Never tempted to give her a little slap?” Daphne retorted, jerking her head at Constance.

“No.”

“No?” Daphne’s eyebrows flew up. Then she curled her lips as she turned to Constance. “Expect you’re the virtuous kind.”

Constance laughed, which seemed to take Daphne by surprise.

“It’s not about me,” Constance said, sobering. “It’s about the kind of man my husband is. What kind of man is yours?”

“The kind who might raise his fist occasionally in temper,” Daphne replied, “but puts food on the table.”

“What kind of a man was Percival Harvey?” Solomon asked.

Daphne looked away. “Fun.”

“Then he didn’t take more than was offered?” Constance asked.

Daphne stared at her. “No. What you going to do? Put me in the stocks?”

“At any point on Thursday afternoon,” Solomon said, distracting Mrs. West’s attention from Constance, “did you notice anyone near the canal?”

“Nope. Not apart from George opening the lock gates, and Fred Baines, who stepped off his boat for a quick word with us while the chamber filled.”

To Constance, it sounded rehearsed—which didn’t make it a lie.

“Did you hear any gunshots at all that day?” Solomon asked.

“Can’t say I did. Anything else?”

“Does your husband own a pistol?”

Daphne regarded him, her gaze more speculative than outraged. “So happens, he does.”

“How come?”

Daphne shrugged. “No idea. He’s always had it.”

“Would he show it to us if we asked?”

“Only one way to find out.”

They walked on. A boat made its stately way up the canal, punted by a man who called greetings to Daphne. She waved back.

Constance said, “One thing I’ve never understood, although I know it happens more often than not—why do women stay with men who beat them?”

“Why do men stay with women who’re unfaithful?” Daphne retorted.

“Being unfaithful won’t kill him,” Constance pointed out.