NINE

‘Are you sure my mother didn’t say anything more about my father last time you spoke to her?’ Joanna asked as he sipped his tea. ‘I so want to know him. How can I wait all the months till April? It’s light years away.’ Breathlessly, she demanded, ‘Are you sure mum didn’t tell you who my father is? You’re not keeping it from me, are you?’

‘No, Joanna. Your mother didn’t tell us. I’m sorry.’

Joanna’s eyes filled with tears and Rafferty, under the attempt to comfort her, saw the answer to his dilemma and took it. It was unethical, of course, but cousin Nigel, the smooth-talking estate agent, wasn’t the only one in the family who could ignore the ethics of a situation when it suited. He embraced the crying girl, patted her back and went, ‘there, there.’ Then, with some difficulty, he managed to hook the buttons on his jacket’s sleeve around Joanne’s long hair and in his apparent efforts to disengage them, he tugged several strands of hair, with their roots, from her head. He clutched them in his fist and hid his hand behind his back until he could put them in an evidence bag. ‘Sorry, Miss,’ he said. ‘I hope I didn’t hurt you?’

‘No.’ she said as she took the surprisingly clean tissue that Rafferty offered and wiped her eyes. ‘I don’t know why mum has to keep him such a secret. It’s not as if I won’t find out. Just wait till I’m eighteen. I’ll be able to apply for a copy of my birth certificate then and she won’t be able to keep it a secret any longer. I want to know something about him before my party, even if it’s only his name.’

Aware that Joanna, destined to find a blank space where her father’s name should be, was heading for another disappointment, he asked, ‘Have you considered that your mother might have kept your father’s identity a secret to save you from hurt?’

‘No. Though maybe she’s done it to save herself from embarrassment. Who knows? I might be the result of a tacky one-night stand, with a man whose name she didn’t even remember. Maybe, in spite of her drunken promise to ask him to my party, she hasn’t because she can’t. Because she knows nothing about him.’

Rafferty, the not-so-innocent partner in a few tacky one-night stands of his own in his younger days, sprang to Alice Douglas’s defence. ‘I doubt that’s true, or why would she, drunk or sober, feel able to make that promise? It’s not as if your mother was promiscuous in her younger days, no one we’ve spoken to has said that. They’ve all said she was a studious girl and that they couldn’t remember her dating anyone.’

‘All the more reason then, I would have thought, for me to be the result of a one-night stand.’

Rafferty could no more argue with her logic than he was ever able to argue with Llewellyn’s, so he just said, ‘However you were conceived, your mother’s brought you up, looked after you all these years. Surely that counts for something?’

Joanna didn’t answer, but simply rose up from the settee in one swift movement and ran out of the room. He could hear her feet thumping on the stairs, leaving him in possession of the living room. Allowing himself a few indulgent seconds to feel pity for the girl, he carefully placed the hairs in an evidence bag and put it in his pocket. This was an opportunity to snoop that was too good to pass up.

But twenty minutes later, he had to admit defeat. He had found nothing of interest, nothing that might tell him the identity of Joanna’s father. Doubtless Alice Douglas would keep such sensitive stuff in her bedroom, carefully locked away from her daughter’s eyes. And even he didn’t feel able to sneak up the stairs to find Alice’s bedroom. He might just happen on Joanna’s instead and then he’d have some explaining to do.

His attempt at playing a Dutch uncle clearly as much of a miserable failure as his hope of immediately discovering the identity of Joanna’s father, Rafferty consoled himself that at least, with Joanna’s hair and attached roots in an evidence bag, he was in with a chance of finding out who he wasn’t. And even if it was later rather than sooner and the answer unofficial and inadmissible, the results might be far more revealing than that. Superintendent Bradley wouldn’t like it, of course, but then he’d make sure he never found out. Rafferty, keen to get ahead in the case somehow, was sure that if he could find out the identity of Joanna’s father for his own purposes, he would be able to get her mother to admit the truth without too much difficulty. A confident air and a knowing smile could work wonders.

Rafferty had arranged a time to meet the two student lodgers when he knew his ma wouldn’t be in. She had her regular bingo and she went every week as if someone had wound her up and set her down in the right direction.

Luckily, her visiting cousins were out and the rooms they were using reasonably tidy. Unlikely as it seemed for students, Karen and Martin were on time and he hurriedly showed them round, urging them on in case the cousins returned before they’d finished. Young Karen’s face seemed vaguely familiar, but he couldn’t place her and when he asked her if they were acquainted, she opened her eyes wide and said, ‘Oh no, Mr Rafferty. I don’t think so.’

They loved Ma’s two spare rooms and said they’d take them. He’d got copies of short-term tenancies on the internet after a lot of trouble and he’d cursed Llewellyn and Abra as he struggled. They’d both refused to have anything to do with his little plot. But he’d managed and eventually was able to print the agreements off.

He quickly filled in the youngsters’ details. Money and rent books changed hands – he’d already asked for and received references. They were all set. He gave them keys and told them they could move in the day after Ma’s American cousins were due to go home.

Rafferty, aware that the get-his-own-back joke on his ma had come full circle, rang her mobile once the two students had gone and he was back in his car, to let her know what he’d arranged, but all he got was voice mail. He’d try her later; he had plenty of time and he didn’t want to leave a message.

To Rafferty’s disappointment, Gary Sadiq was still in England, staying with relatives in Birmingham. He’d rather fancied a free trip to India – apart from anything else, the necessity of making the expensive journey would upset Superintendent Bradley, not to mention giving him a couple of days’ break from Cyrus and his religious fervour. But it wasn’t to be, so they battled their way up to Birmingham through the morning’s rush hour and a stop-start journey under a still-blazing sun to discover precisely nothing. Though, of course, the semi in Birmingham wasn’t Sadiq’s home. Maybe, if he could persuade Bradley to fund the trip he might yet find out something to his advantage on the sub-continent. But Gary Sadiq, when they saw him, was very circumspect and answered Rafferty’s questions as if his words were rationed. In any event, they got nothing useful out of him.

So far, none of the other reunees they’d spoken to had revealed as much as a morsel of new evidence to raise them up the suspects’ list, so it was a reluctant Rafferty, on their return from Birmingham, that slouched his way along the corridor to report his failure to Bradley. He then slunk home to Abra and Cyrus, who was in even fuller voice than Bradley had been.

‘Joe. Hi. How’s your case going?’ He didn’t wait for Rafferty to answer, but continued blithely on. ‘Ah was saying to Wendy, although Ah’ve bin praying for you. Of course Ah have, Ah thought a bit of intense praying would be mighty helpful. So this evening, Ah’m going to retire early to ma room and spend some hours on ma knees. Me and God are on good terms, and Ah’m confident Ah’ll get a positive response. Ah’ll start now, if you don’t mind. It seems rude to deprive you of ma company when Ah’m a guest in your home, but Ah know how much good it will do.’

Bemused, but grateful to have an evening free of Cyrusisms, Rafferty thanked his guest solemnly, kissed Abra and helped himself to a large Jameson’s.

It was a few days later. Rafferty had rushed off Joanna Douglas’s hair to the forensic laboratory requesting it be prioritised and he was pleased when Llewellyn told him they had some results in. Then Llewellyn frowned and looked at him from narrowed brown eyes. ‘That’s funny, they’re from Joanna Douglas’s hair. When did you obtain strands of her hair? You never mentioned you were doing so?’

‘Didn’t I? Must have slipped my mind.’ He learned forward expectantly. ‘And?’

‘Adam Ainsley, not Giles Harmsworth, was the father of Ms Douglas’s daughter.’

‘Bingo! No wonder she fought shy of telling us the father’s identity. We need to have another word with her.’ Rafferty glanced at his watch. ‘She’ll still be at work. Why don’t we beard her at the British Library? After first telling us she’d had an abortion, then denying Joanna was Ainsley’s child and then outright refusing to supply us with the identity of who was the father, I don’t think she’s entitled to our consideration.’

Llewellyn was looking pensive. ‘You know, you haven’t said how you got that lock of Joanna Douglas’s hair.’

‘Haven’t I?’

‘She’s a minor, so I hope you asked her mother’s permission.’

‘I got the hair, didn’t I?’

‘As long as it wasn’t obtained in such a way as to render it inadmissible.’

‘As if. You know me, Dafyd.’

‘Yes. I do, don’t I? That’s the problem.’

‘You want to trust more and suspect less, Dafyd. All that tense suspicion can make a person constipated.’ He paused, then added airily, ‘though it might be a good idea not to mention it to Alice Douglas. No point in complicating matters. I shouldn’t be surprised if she hasn’t forgotten giving her permission. You know how absentminded these academics can be.’

Llewellyn stared at him, sighed and shook his head, but he said nothing further, much to Rafferty’s relief. He’d never been able to persuade the by-the-book Welshman that, sometimes, it was necessary to use a bit of unofficial sleight-of-hand to get answers.

Thankfully, the weather had broken and the day was cool with a threat of rain. Perhaps as well as successfully praying for a break in the case, Cyrus had also prayed for a break in the weather. Rafferty, after getting confirmation that Adam Ainsley was indeed the father of Alice’s daughter, wasn’t about to look the second gift horse in the mouth, so was duly grateful. He just hoped Cyrus wasn’t too unbearably triumphant when he told him that his prayers had been answered.

The run to London was far more comfortable than it had been when they’d made the journey to Notting Hill to see Edward Diaz.

Leaving Llewellyn to find a place to park, Rafferty entered the British Library and went in search of Alice Douglas. He tracked her down to one of the offices.

She was surprised to see him and even more surprised when she discovered the purpose of his visit.

‘How did you find out that Adam was Joanna’s father? His name’s not on her birth certificate.’

Her question put Rafferty in something of a quandary, given that he had obtained a sample of her daughter’s hair illicitly – Bradley would go spare if he heard – so he temporised. ‘Let’s just say that, given your reticence about identifying the father, I put two and two together.’ Airily, he added, ‘I can, of course, obtain DNA evidence if you wish.’

She grimaced. ‘What’s the point? It would only delay things for a short while. Yes. All right, Adam was Joanna’s father. Or rather, his was the seed that helped to create her. He certainly had no interest in being a father to her or in supporting me, as I soon discovered. He made quite clear that he didn’t want to be burdened with a “brat”, as he called our child. He was going places and he didn’t want either me or his little bastard tagging along behind him.’

‘You must have hated him for it.’

‘I did for a time. But life moves on, Inspector. And I moved on with it. The stardust dropped from my eyes pretty quickly and I realized that he had only ever taken up with me because his pride was wounded when he found out that Sophie had cut a swathe through most of the class.’

‘Surely he knew that all along? Wouldn’t the other lads boast of it?’

‘Perhaps, if it had been another boy. But Adam was the school’s sporting hero as well as having the reputation as something of a bully; the combination encouraged Sophie’s conquests to keep their bedpost notches to themselves.’

‘One of them must have let it slip.’

‘Yes. But I don’t know which one. Adam never said. He refused to talk about it at all.’ She cast a sudden, sharp look at Rafferty. ‘And if you think I killed him because of something that happened when I was a foolish girl, you’re mistaken.’

Poor off for suspects that had a really strong motive for wanting Ainsley dead, Rafferty was reluctant to let Alice Douglas go quite so easily. She was the only passable suspect he had. Unwanted pregnancies caused high feelings and blighted lives. Perhaps that was the case here. Unfortunately, Ms Douglas was quick to disabuse him of that theory.

‘My pregnancy didn’t ruin my hopes of a career, Inspector, as you can see. Nor did it breed resentment if that is what you were hoping.’

‘I just like to check, Miss. It’s called being thorough. A man has been murdered. He might not have been a very nice man, but he was entitled to enjoy his life.’

‘Unlike the child I was expecting? The one he gave me money to abort?’ When Rafferty didn’t answer, she questioned his silence. ‘I suppose, like Adam, you’d have wanted me to get rid of the child?’

Rafferty thought for a moment of his dead first wife, Angie, and the probably fake pregnancy that had forced him to the altar, then he said, ‘No. I’m a Catholic, too, Ms Douglas. Disposing of a life as if it was so much rubbish is not something I could ever feel comfortable with.’

‘Then you’ll understand why I decided to keep my baby. Luckily, I had an inheritance from my grandmother and was able to employ a nanny to look after Joanna while I was at university.’

‘Wouldn’t your parents help?’

‘No.’

The answer was abrupt and Rafferty was intrigued by it. ‘Why not?’

With a marked degree of reluctance, after a few moments, she admitted, ‘They were ashamed of me. They were always very strict churchgoers and thought I had let the family down. They refused to help. I learned to manage without them. You’d think they’d have given me some credit for not having the abortion that Sophie advised. They’d have been even more appalled if I’d done that.’

‘Even with your grandmother’s inheritance, it can’t have been easy.’

‘No. It wasn’t. But now I have a lovely daughter who’s about to go to university herself. She’s bright and should do well. I’m very proud of her. Her existence is a great comfort to me. And I have Adam to thank for that. I had no reason to want to kill him, Inspector. None at all.’

‘Not for your own sake, perhaps, but maybe you did for that of your daughter.’

She turned wary eyes on him. ‘What do you mean?’

‘I went to see Joanna the other day. She told me that you’d agreed to invite her father to her birthday party.’

Alice’s lips tightened and she said faintly, ‘She told you that?’

Rafferty nodded.

Alice sighed and stared down at her desk. ‘You can’t know how bitterly I regretted those few glasses of wine and that stupid promise.’

‘But a promise is a promise.’

‘Yes.

‘So, did he say he’d go to the party?’

Alice raised her head and smiled at him. ‘Yes. He might not have shown any interest in the baby in my womb, but a daughter all grown up and about to go to uni intrigued him. He said he’d be there.’

‘Your daughter would have been pleased. Shame he’s dead.’

‘Yes.’

He bid her good day then and went in search of Llewellyn.

Llewellyn must have had trouble parking the car because he only entered the building just as Rafferty was leaving it. He told the Welshman what Alice Douglas had said.

‘And do you believe her that Mr Ainsley agreed to attend his daughter’s party?’

Rafferty shrugged. ‘Why not? Ainsley was no longer a callow youth, but a grown man. He has no other children that we know of, so why wouldn’t seeing his only child intrigue him?’

Showing an unlikely reluctance to let go of Rafferty’s theory, Llewellyn said, ‘To kill a man because he had rejected her child was about the best motive we had.’

‘I know.’ At least he didn’t say the only motive, thought Rafferty.

‘Though, I suppose, as you said before, she’d had seventeen years to pay him back if that had been her inclination. And it’s not as if Ainsley wasn’t high profile and easily found if she wanted to find him. She didn’t need to wait for him to attend a reunion in order to kill him.’

‘No.’ Rafferty sighed. ‘It would seem our best motive is smashed into smithereens.’

‘Maybe something had happened more recently to bring a resurgence of any hatred she might have felt then?’

‘Yes, but what?

For once, the intellectual Welshman had no answer.

Between one thing and another, Rafferty forgot all about ringing his ma again and advising her of the situation via-a-vis her new lodgers. He was only reminded of it when she got him on the phone several days later. He was in his office, wrestling with what remained of his assorted theories and trying to decide whether he should plump for one of them and pursue it for all he was worth when he was forced to acknowledge that wrestling with theories was easy as opposed to jousting words with his ma.

‘Thanks for organizing my new lodgers, son. And thanks for telling me about it. It was good of you.’

Rafferty’s mouth fell open in astonishment. How had she found out? Who could possibly have told her? The only ones who knew were Abra and Llewellyn. Had one of them . . .?

‘Have you got nothing to say for yourself?’

Rafferty felt like a naughty schoolboy dragged in front of the headmaster. ‘Sorry, Ma. I did try to ring you, but you didn’t answer your mobile and I didn’t want to leave a message.’

‘And then you forgot. Never mind, I had other ways of finding out.’

That didn’t surprise him. His ma had a more extensive network of spies than the Kremlin. ‘I suppose it was Llewellyn?’

‘You suppose wrong. Though I must say I’m surprised that Dafyd knew what you were up to and didn’t stop you.’

‘There’s no need to have a go at him, Ma. He disapproved and tried to dissuade me.’

‘Yes, well. That’s as may be. I suppose your Abra knew as well?’

His guilty silence was all the answer she needed. He quickly changed the subject. ‘So who told you?’

‘Young Karen is an old school friend of Gemma. She knew you immediately when she rang you.’

‘She never said.’ Rafferty frowned. He had thought when he’d met her that there was something familiar about the girl, but he hadn’t been able to put his finger on it. It didn’t help that Gemma changed her friends like he changed his shirt. There was a regular parade of them through his sister, Maggie’s front room.

‘No. She thought it a bit odd that you should be taking in lodgers. It was clear you didn’t recognize her, so she played along.’ It was a well-known family joke that Rafferty was averse to having overnight guests. ‘She told Gemma and Gemma told me. And when Karen told us the address where the rooms to rent were to be found, we soon worked out what you were up to.’

‘So you knew all along?’

‘Well, of course I did. You’ll have to grow a lot older and plenty more canny before you manage to put something over on your mother, Joseph.’

‘Are they very disappointed?’

‘Who?’

‘Well, Karen and Martin, of course. Who else?’

‘And why would they be disappointed? Sure and they like the rooms and I like them. They were worried that I’d ruin your little plot and tell them I didn’t want lodgers and for all my protestations to the contrary once I’d got used to the idea, they didn’t believe me. So I’ve been keeping in contact with them. We’ve been getting on like a house on fire. It’ll be a treat to have youngsters in the house again. It’s done me a favour, you have, though you didn’t know it. Oh and by the way. Where’s my rent?’

A few minutes later he put the phone down and turned to see Llewellyn positively grinning at him. Rafferty realized it was the first time he’d seen the Welshman’s teeth. They were as well ordered as the rest of him and gleamed with a positive relish.

‘Seems like your mother surprised you, Joseph.’

‘Yeah.’ Rafferty ran his hand through his unruly auburn hair. He still hadn’t found time to go to the barber’s. ‘You can say that again. She knew about my plan all along. Right from the start. You’d think she’d have said something.’

‘She probably thinks the same of you.’

Rafferty nodded. Slowly a grin formed. ‘Trust ma. I’ve never got the better of her yet. One day, though. One day.’

There was something niggling at Rafferty’s brain, but he couldn’t pin it down. What could it be? But for all that he kept pressing his mind, he came up with nothing. Of course, it didn’t help that he couldn’t look forward to peaceful evenings. Cyrus showed no sign of running out of either steam or bible quotations and he was still assailing Rafferty’s eardrums every evening and giving him tea poisoning every morning.

He’d got so desperate that he’d even gone over to his ma, with his tail between his legs after his lodger stunt, to see if he couldn’t talk her into an exchange of lodgers, but she wouldn’t play ball. ‘Sure and why should I discommode them all when they’ll be packing to go home soon enough?’

‘Because I ask it of you.’

His ma smiled that smile that, for all her love of the church, hinted at devilment – no soft touch, she, and said, ‘Is it pricking your conscience what Cyrus has been doing, son? After all, you did promise Father Kelly before your wedding that you’d start going to church a bit more regularly. But he says he hasn’t seen hide or hair of you.’

Frustrated, he burst out, ‘Why did you have to go and land me with a religious maniac?’, after she had ignored his own concerns and got a poke of her own in for good measure. ‘You must have known what Cyrus is like and know very well that I don’t go in for all that stuff.’

‘Why do you think? Father Kelly and I both felt you needed a bit of religious encouragement to get you back to the Church.’

‘You mean you sicked Cyrus on me deliberately? If you think Cyrus’s presence in my home has turned me back on to religion, you’ve got another think coming.’

‘Sure and I thought it worth a try. So did Father Kelly. In fact, he was keener on the idea than I was, so if you want an argument you should go and find our holy priest. He positively encouraged me once he’d fully considered the state of your soul. You can explain your broken promise to him while you’re at it.’

‘God, Ma, you don’t just take the biscuit. You take the whole bloody packet.’

‘Don’t swear, Joseph. You know it’s a sin.’

‘Sin be damned. Cyrus is enough to make God Himself into a sinner. The man never stops. It’s a wonder Abra hasn’t left me again.’ Abra had left him and gone back to her own flat not long before their wedding and he’d despaired of getting her back. This reminder served to put his ma rather on the back foot.

‘There’s no need to exaggerate, Joseph. And Abra’s still with you, isn’t she?’

‘She is for now. But that may be because she hasn’t any longer got her own flat to swan off to. She’d probably invite herself over to Dafyd’s place only his pernickety ways get on her nerves.’

‘It’s not much to ask to have you put up a couple of cousins. Cyrus has got a good heart.’

‘He’s got an even better mouth. It never stops.’

‘You could learn something from him, son. You should listen to him instead of complaining and shutting your ears. He’s a good, Christian soul and could teach you a lot.’

‘Yes, a lot of things I’ve already been force-fed once in my life. I’m a grown man now, Ma, and able to make my own decision about religion.’

‘Yes, the wrong one. You’ll be sorry when the Day of Judgement comes.’

‘God’s all forgiving, Ma. He’ll overlook my frailties.’

‘Maybe He will and maybe He won’t. But His forgiveness is less likely, I’m thinking, when you’ve already been given the gift of the truth and persist in rejecting it.’

He gave up then, let his ma win the argument and went home.

Rafferty woke the next morning to find that the hot weather had returned in the night. It was only seven o’clock, but already the heat was intense. He grabbed a quick shower, grabbed an even quicker tea for himself and Abra, and made for the car.

Thinking the cooler climes likely to persist, he hadn’t listened to the weather forecast, and had parked the car in the drive, well away from any shading trees. Furnace-heat wasn’t in it. He opened the door and all the windows and waited five minutes for things to cool down a bit before he climbed in and drove to the station.

Llewellyn looked as if he’d found a shady spot for his car; perhaps, the prudent Welshman had taken the precaution of listening to the forecast. Not a drop of sweat sullied his brow, which immediately put Rafferty in a bad mood. ‘Tell me nothing else has come in.’

Llewellyn duly obliged. ‘Nothing else has come in.’

Rafferty sighed. ‘Has Bradley shown his face yet?’

‘Yes, the superintendent looked in a little while ago. He asked after you.’

‘I’ll bet. What did you tell him?’

‘I said you were out pursuing investigations.’

‘Did he believe you?’

‘He didn’t intimate an opinion.’

‘OK. If he didn’t “intimate an opinion”, what colour was he when he left?’

‘Strawberry going on overripe tomato.’

‘And I suppose he said I was to go up as soon as I came in?’

‘I didn’t like to say, seeing as you’re so tetchy, but, yes, as a matter of fact, he did.’

‘Stuff him. He can wait till I’ve finished my tea at least.’ Rafferty slouched back in his executive chair and tried to cool off, mind and body. But this cooling off took a good ten minutes and it seemed the superintendent wasn’t prepared to wait because all of a sudden, the door was thrust open and Bradley’s bulk filled the open space.

‘So you are in,’ he accused. ‘I said you were to come up immediately and what do I find but you taking your ease and swilling tea. Have you any interest in solving this case, Rafferty?’

Rafferty felt surly and didn’t trouble to reply. But it seemed Bradley’s question had been a rhetorical one that didn’t require an answer.

‘Well, seeing as the mountain chose not to come to Mohammed so we could speak in private, I’ll speak to you here. What’s happening, Rafferty? The investigation seems to have come to a premature halt. Have you got anything to follow up on today, but?’

Still feeling surly and out of sorts, Rafferty just managed to update him re Sophie Diaz and her possible blackmail attempt on the killer and the identity of the father of Alice Douglas’s daughter.

‘And what about their women friends? Have you questioned them?

‘That’s next on the agenda.’

Bradley consulted his watch in an ostentatious manner. ‘It’s nigh on time you got yourself out and talked to them then. And workmates? What about them?’

‘They’re next on the agenda as well. At least, for Alice Douglas. Sophie Diaz was a lady of leisure.’

Fortunately, the super was a big man and the heat seemed to have sapped his energy, for he did nothing but shake his head in a disappointed manner and bark, ‘See to it, then,’ before he slammed his way out.

‘It’s all right for him,’ Rafferty complained. ‘He hasn’t got to drive all over the country in this heat.’

‘I thought you liked making inroads into his budget. Besides, it’s scarcely “all over the country”, sir. Alice Douglas only lives in Norwich, so I presume we’re likely to find her friends there, too. At least we can question the neighbours until we’re able to ascertain who her friends are. And Sophie Diaz lived in Notting Hill and although her friends are more scattered, there are several in the area, including her best friend, Amanda Shaw, who was out when I tried before. Mary Carmody and I whittled down to three the list of Mrs Diaz’s friends to whom you might like to speak yourself. We could easily fit them all in this morning if we make a move and go back to Norwich this afternoon.’

‘Only if you put your foot down.’

This, of course, was anathema to the cautious Welshman, who believed slow and steady was the best driving course to take.

‘Come on, then.’ Reluctantly, Rafferty stood up and grabbed his jacket. ‘Let’s go. We’ll take Notting Hill and surrounds first. You’ve checked Sophie Diaz’s book for her friends’ addresses?’

Llewellyn nodded. ‘The London ones are all within reasonable proximity of Notting Hill, though it might pay us to park the car and take the tube.’

The thought of a hot, sweaty underground stuffed with jabbering foreign tourists and their bruising backpacks did nothing to improve Rafferty’s humour.