‘What would you do?’ asked Inspector Devereux.
‘Revenge,’ the little man said, ‘is a dish best eaten cold, according to the Spanish. I have spent years with the prospect of revenge getting colder every year. It’s well refrigerated by now, my lust for revenge, it’s practically turned to ice. I would, of course, visit Sir Peregrine in prison. I don’t think I’d bother saying anything. Just looking at him behind bars in prison clothes would be enough, I think. I’m sure I could look at him all day.’
Sergeant Morris wasn’t looking forward to his interview with Mrs Maud Lewis, christened the merry widow by his Inspector. The sergeant wasn’t as hopeless with women as the Inspector, but he thought he might have to ask her a number of very personal questions. As he passed the Farmers’ Arms and set off up the road, he consoled himself with the thought that she might be one of those talkative women only too happy to tell her entire life history once they have a captive listener. The sergeant had met a number of those in his time.
She was all charm as he arrived, showing him into an enormous drawing room lined with paintings and photographs of dogs. Mrs Lewis was about fifty years old and dressed from head to toe in black. She was a nervous woman, forever fidgeting in her chair or clasping and unclasping her hands. The sergeant had an aunt with exactly the same mannerisms. A servant was ordered to bring them tea at once.
‘Sergeant Morris, did you say, you must be all worked off your feet just now with this terrible murder. What a business! And to think that I knew the deceased! I’ve never known a deceased before! My own dear Roderick, cut off in his prime in that dreadful way!’
The sergeant saw that he might have trouble steering the conversation in the direction he wanted it to go.
‘Perhaps you could tell me how you came to be living here in Fakenham, Mrs Lewis? Of course there’s no reason why you shouldn’t be living here, but I don’t think you’ve been with us very long.’
‘You’re quite right, Sergeant, I haven’t been here very long, but I do like to think that Fakenham has taken me to its bosom! Such kind people! We lived in the Midlands before where Horace had his business. He was my late husband, Sergeant, bless him. Horace had a chain of stores, you know, clothing shops, shirts, blouses, undergarments. Horace always said that ladies’ undergarments were his top sellers. Give them the right stuff and the customers will always come back, that was his motto. The shops were in and around Birmingham but we lived in a better sort of neighbourhood, Edgbaston Park. We had a very tasteful residence there. Do you know Edgbaston Park at all, Sergeant?’
The policeman shook his head.
‘It’s rather like one of these Norfolk towns, Edgbaston Park, quite superior people living there. We were so happy in the place, Horace with the shops, the boys off our hands, all our friends.’ Mrs Lewis paused briefly to pour some tea. ‘But then, two years ago to the day next Wednesday, we were struck by tragedy. Well, Horace was, really. He was up a ladder in the back storeroom of the main shop, checking on the supplies of some items of hosiery when he was struck down! Quite what Horace was doing up this ladder when he had all those people on his staff I don’t know. Anyway the young lady with him tried to bring him round on the floor where he’d fallen. No use, no use at all, Horace had had a heart attack up the ladder and that was the end of him. He’d often talked of heaven being like an enormous shop where you could buy everything without paying. Well, now he’d gone there. By express. He’d always been fond of expresses, Horace.’
She took another mouthful of tea. The sergeant wondered how the unfortunate Horace had coped with this very talkative wife. Had she gone on like this all evening in the tasteful residence at Edgbaston Park?
‘It took such a long time to get things straight, Sergeant. The staff in Horace’s shops did ask me on a number of occasions if I would take over the management of the business but I said I would find the memories of Horace too painful. They understood that, bless them. I still own some shares, mind you, so Horace keeps me supplied with dividends from beyond the grave! I’m sure he would be pleased about that. And then I came here. And then I met Roderick. My fiancee, you know. We hadn’t told anybody about it, well, hardly anybody, but you are the law, aren’t you, Sergeant, so it’s only proper I should tell you. Render unto Caesar, Roderick used to say. Do you know, Sergeant, I’ve never known what that meant, and I’ve never liked to ask in case people thought I was stupid. Do you know what it means, Sergeant?’
‘I think, Mrs Lewis, that it’s a quotation from the New Testament. Render unto Caesar the things that are Caesar’s, render unto God the things that are God’s. It means you should pay your taxes to the state like a good citizen, and you should go to church and worship God as well.’
‘I think that’s very fair, Sergeant. I expect you have to know things like that in the police force. Come to think of it, you are like Caesar, the law of the land, and the dear vicar is like God.’
‘Could I ask, Mrs Lewis, forgive me if this seems a personal question, how you came to know Mr Gill?’
‘I met him through the church, of course — appropriate now we are talking of rendering unto God. He was often in the church, looking after the accounts, counting the collection money. The Reverend Williamson is a very conscientious man, but I don’t think he knew anything about money. He used to say that Roderick was his right- hand man. Horace had a chap in the shops who did the figures, not a nice man like my Roderick, but he knew all about the taxes and how, sometimes, you could avoid paying them. Dear me, I shouldn’t have told you that, should I! Horace would be so cross with me. If you’ve got one sin, Maud, he used to say, it’s that you open your big mouth without thinking about it!’
‘Don’t worry about that, Mrs Lewis,’ said the sergeant. ‘We’re engaged on a murder investigation here, nothing to do with taxes.’
‘Thank goodness for that,’ said Mrs Lewis. ‘Now where was I?’
‘You were talking about your meeting with Mr Gill.’
‘Ah, yes. I think we grew close when we were working on the arrangements for the Harvest Festival. It was as if love was blossoming among the fruit and vegetables dotted around the church. After that Roderick used to come to my house after we had a few drinks in the Farmers’ Arms together. Roderick would drink Guinness and I would have a glass of port — Horace introduced me to port years ago — and things progressed from there.’
‘When did you become engaged, Mrs Lewis?’
‘I’ll always remember that, Sergeant. It was after the midnight carol service on Christmas Eve. We were sitting together near the front. I remember thinking that Roderick was coming close to me during “Oh Come all ye Faithful”. Then he came even closer when we were singing “Hark the Herald Angels Sing”. And then, would you believe this, Sergeant, he actually held my hand while we were singing “Silent Night”! Discreetly, of course, not so people could see. I wondered if he was going to propose while we were in church, in “It Came Upon the Midnight Clear” perhaps, but he waited till we were home again.’
The sergeant wanted to ask if the school bursar stayed the night on these romantic evenings, but he thought it better not.
‘Have you told your children about this?’
A small cloud seemed to pass across Mrs Lewis’s features. ‘Well, I did, actually. I think it’s fair to say that neither William nor Montague ever understood Roderick. They never liked him. It was so unfair. Roderick tried so hard.’
‘Did you have rows about it, Mrs Lewis? Sorry, but we have to ask questions like these.’
‘I expect somebody has been telling stories out of school at the Farmers’ Arms. Quite why these snooping people have to listen in to private conversations I’ll never know. Yes, there was a row.’ For the first time in the conversation Mrs Lewis seemed to have lost the power of speech.
‘Was the row about money? About who you were going to leave the shares to?’
‘My goodness, they were listening carefully, weren’t they! Yes, it was. What you must understand is that Horace left the two boys very well off. Each of them has as many shares in the business as I have, if not more. Neither of them has to work at all. So I can’t see why they were so cross when I said I was going to leave my shares to Roderick after we were married and I made a new will.’
‘But you didn’t. Get married, I mean, did you, Mrs Lewis? You didn’t have much time between the engagement and the murder.’
‘No,’ said Mrs Lewis sadly, ‘we didn’t. Such a pity as I’d seen a very beautiful hat over in Norwich. I was so looking forward to getting married in that hat.’
‘And tell me, pray, the will you already had in place, the one that was valid when Mr Gill was killed, where did that leave the money?’
‘That went to the two boys, all of it. I hadn’t even met Roderick when I made that will.’
‘I’ve nearly finished, Mrs Lewis, just one last thing, if I may. Could you just give me the address or addresses
