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THERE WERE TWO OTHER doors off the landing, and Rafferty asked where they led. Astell placed his gloved hands together in the precise manner that was already getting on Rafferty's nerves and nodded towards the first of the doors on the left. 'This office is used by one of our staff, Mrs Virginia Campbell. The other one is used as a storeroom for any overflow of stock from the shop.' He opened each of the doors in turn. The second room contained books and fancily packaged bottles of oil, CD's, records and cassettes, all stacked on wall shelves, along with many other items. An old easel, stained and shoved just inside the door, was balanced precariously against the wall and Astell straightened it with a gesture of annoyance. 'I must throw this old thing away. I don't know why Jasper insisted on keeping it.'
'Not yet, please,' Rafferty cautioned. 'I don't want anything discarded until the case is concluded.'
Astell nodded and went on. 'As you know, the room between my office and Jasper's is used as a waiting room.'
'Do you employ a receptionist?'
'No. The nature of the work hardly warrants it. Mrs Mercedes Moreno, the woman we employ in the shop, directs our clients to the waiting room. She's from South America,' Astell explained the unusual name. 'Peru.'
'And they're the only other people that work here?'
Astell nodded. 'Apart from Mrs Hadleigh, the cleaner. She comes in at about 7.00 every morning.'
Rafferty frowned. 'I understood that you found the body when you came in at 7.30 a m. Or did you only make the call?'
'No. I found him. I had an early booking with one of my few regulars—she likes to see me on her way to the station. Mrs Hadleigh had a hospital appointment yesterday morning so I agreed she could do her chores in the evening, from 5.00 to 7.00 p m. My wife and I had a few guests last night, and Mrs Hadleigh came over afterwards to help out. Unfortunately, she was only there a short time before she began to feel unwell. I sent her home just before 8.00 p m. Naturally, I told her not to bother coming in this morning. I tried to ring Jasper last night to tell him that if he made his usual mess he'd have to clean it up himself. He can—could—be rather untidy.'
'You say you tried to ring Mr Moon? At what time?'
Astell nodded. 'I'm sorry. I suppose I should have mentioned it before. I didn't get through. The first few times I tried, Jasper's phone was engaged, and then, when it did ring, no-one answered.' His eyes widened, aghast at the implication of what he'd just said. 'God, I never thought...so many things going round and round in my mind. I suppose he must have died around then. How—horrible.'
'What time would this have been, sir?' Rafferty asked again.
'What?' Although still obviously stunned, Astell managed to pull himself together sufficiently to answer Rafferty's question. 'It was at 8.20 p m. That's right. I'd just made Mrs Moreno a cup of coffee – she had forgotten her gloves and returned about ten minutes earlier. I remember as the clock in the hall had just rung the quarter chime – it tends to be five minutes slow.' Rafferty made a mental note of the time. As Astell had surmised, it could be important. Whether Moon's killer had called someone from his office, or whether the phone had just become dislodged from its rest during the attack and the killer had replaced it, the phone company should be able to tell them.
Astell, his voice slow and disjointed after this latest shock, explained, 'I didn't want-want his first client to turn up and encounter Jas-Jasper's usual shambles, you see.' He broke off and after glancing at his watch, said in a more normal voice, 'It hardly matters now, does it? Still, I suppose I should ring and put them off? Though what I can possibly say to them...'
'Don't worry about that, sir. One of my officers will contact them.' Rafferty nodded to Llewellyn, who disappeared. 'You mentioned you had a client this morning. Did you ask her to leave when you found the body?'
Astell shook his head and looked cross with himself. 'Sorry. No. Didn't I explain? She rang to cancel, so I decided I might as well get on with some work. It was then that I found Jasper's body. I needed some stamps—as you saw, they're kept in the cashbox.'
After obtaining this client's name and address, Rafferty went on, 'You said Mrs Hadleigh would have finished cleaning at about 7.00 p m yesterday?'
'That's right. She usually did a full two hours. One hour on the consulting floor and the other in the shop.'
'And how long has she worked here?'
'Only about three weeks, but I've known her for some years. As well as helping out when we entertain, my wife and I employ her to clean our home. When our last cleaner left I offered her this job. I knew she needed the money, you see. She was pleased to accept.'
Rafferty glanced at his watch, and was surprised to find that it was nearly 9.15 a m. 'What time do your other employees normally arrive?'
'The shop doesn't open until till 9.30 a m, so Mrs Moreno doesn't arrive till then, but Mrs Campbell starts at nine.'
Virginia Campbell should have arrived by now. So where was she? 'Has she perhaps got a day off today?'
‘No.’ Astell frowned. 'At least, if she has, I was unaware of it. She was off yesterday. Jasper might have agreed to her having today off as well. He didn't always remember to tell me if it was a last minute thing.'
'I'll need her phone number, sir. If she is coming in today and hasn't already left home, it would be best if she didn't come in at all. The forensic team will be working here for some time yet.'
'Of course. You can use the telephone in my office.'
Rafferty followed him back along the short corridor, and through the comfortable anteroom. Like Moon's office, this too had a television and DVD, presumably for amusing waiting clients. This television was undamaged. 'I gather Mrs Campbell's a professional astrologer?'
'That's right. She and her husband had their own astrology consultancy, but their business folded when they divorced. She brought a few clients with her when she joined us, but she mainly helps me on the postal side. She also covers in the shop when Mrs Moreno is at lunch or has a day off.'
'And Mrs Moreno? Tell me about her.'
'Mrs Moreno's a widow. She just works in the shop and has nothing to do with the main work of the consultancy.'
'Have Mrs Moreno and Mrs Campbell worked here long?'
'No. I've worked with Jasper for five years, three as a business manager and two as a partner, but it's only in the last twelve months that the postal side has really increased. We took Mrs Campbell on a year ago, and Mrs Moreno six months later when we were able to take over the lease downstairs.'
After Llewellyn had returned and confirmed that Moon's appointments had all been cancelled, Rafferty got him to phone Virginia Campbell and Mrs Moreno. There was no answer from Mrs Moreno's and Llewellyn quietly advised Rafferty that he'd tried Mrs Campbell's phone, but had just got the unobtainable signal. When he'd contacted the phone company, they'd told him her phone had been disconnected.
Rafferty raised his eyebrows and quietly commented, 'Let's hope she's not done a flit. Get someone round there quickly to check it out, Llewellyn.' Frowning, he turned back to Astell. 'I wouldn't have thought there would be much of a market in Elmhurst for New Age trinkets, sir.'
'There isn't. We sell mainly by mail order.' Astell opened a drawer and handed a glossy catalogue to Rafferty. 'I thought it would be a good idea to give our regular clients the opportunity to browse at their leisure, and Jasper agreed we should test the market.'
Rafferty could see that a few browsing pop millionaires could be good for business.
'Growing numbers of people are looking for alternative ways to improve their lives, and some of the lines are very popular.'
Five minutes later, Appleby popped his head round Astell's office door. 'Inspector. Can I have a word?'
Rafferty excused himself. Llewellyn had returned and he and Rafferty followed Appleby back to Moon's office. He led them over to the wall behind the desk, careful to avoid the chalk marks outlining where Moon's body had so recently lain. There were some bright green daubs on the wall. It was blood, Rafferty knew, though looking more Martian than human. The colour was just an idiosyncrasy of one particular chemical. Another turned blood to the most delightful pink.
'These marks showed up by the victim's head when I tried the orthotolidine test,' Appleby told them. 'They're not very clear, I'm afraid. Looks like somebody tried to wash them off. Any ideas?'
Rafferty couldn't make much of them and said so. 'What do you make of them?' he asked Appleby.
'They were definitely drawn rather than splashed, and drawn by the dead man, most likely. I noticed his right index finger was blood-stained.'
Llewellyn hunkered down beside them and studied the marks for a few moments before he ventured a more considered suggestion. 'Could be an attempt at a name. Ian, say, or Isaac and Moon never got beyond the first letter.' Llewellyn pointed. 'See? The first 'I' is fairly weak. The second is a better attempt.'
Rafferty contradicted him. 'I doubt it's a name. If it was, and it meant anything significant, Moon's killer would only have needed to pick up Moon's finger and alter the lettering, to a 'J' for John,' he glanced slyly at Llewellyn. 'Or 'L' for—'
Llewellyn didn't give him a chance to go on. 'The murderer seems to have considered the marks important enough to have made an attempt to get rid of them.'
'Probably just rattled by the sight of the bright blood on the white wall. Even killers can have weak stomachs, you know. Moon had just been hit on the head. I doubt his brain was functioning sufficiently to write anything meaningful.' He stood up, pulling rank and closing the discussion and his workaholic Catholic conscience immediately began to berate him. Do you have to be so childish, Rafferty? it asked him. Yes, he snapped silently back. I do. Why don't you mind your own bloody business?
The trouble was that Llewellyn could be such an all-fired know-all. And he was so often right in his deductions and Rafferty so often wrong, that he frequently got on Rafferty's nerves. Still, Rafferty's conscious managed another rebuke. You could try being a little more grown up about it.
Although, most of the time, and somewhat to Rafferty's surprise, he and Llewellyn got on pretty well, there were still occasions, like at the beginning of another investigation, for instance, when he was prone to over-reaction. Too aware of the fact that, beside Llewellyn, he was over-emotional, impetuous and only half-educated, one part of him wanted to put Llewellyn down even while the other, more sensible part of him acknowledged his reaction was childish. Defensively, he reminded himself that, although Llewellyn might have more education and brain-power he had yet to solve a case, and immediately felt better. 'Maybe you're right. Look into it,' he now magnanimously invited Llewellyn. 'See how many people with names beginning with 'I' Moon knew.'
Llewellyn gave a stiff nod in acknowledgement. Personally, Rafferty doubted there'd be any such acquaintances. Or, if there were, there'd be none who'd had the opportunity to murder Moon.
'Seeing as you've spurned the first of my clues,' Appleby broke in. 'How about taking a look at the second? You'll like this one,' he promised. 'There are several nice bloody fingerprints on the outside of the window sill. Definitely not the dead man's. Fraser's taken an impression of them.'
Rafferty waved another olive branch at Llewellyn's poker-face. 'That sounds more like it, hey, Dafyd? Something to get your teeth into.'
'If you say so, sir,' Llewellyn replied woodenly.
Irritated all over again, Rafferty opened his mouth, but before he could say anything, a sudden commotion from the stairway stopped him.
A voice yelling, 'Come back! You can't go up there,' was followed by the pounding of heavy copper's feet on the stairs.
Rafferty strode across the room and flung the door open. 'What the hell's going on?' he demanded.
A woman of about thirty stood at the head of the stairs. Looking sheepish and flustered, PC Smales stammered his apologies. 'She sidled past me when I was looking the other way, sir.'
Rafferty guessed she was the Latin American woman, Mercedes Moreno, that Astell had mentioned. Dressed completely in black, a long flowing creation, covered by straight midnight dark hair, her skin was very pale, unnaturally so, he thought, as if she was ill or had deliberately powdered it that way for effect. She looked like an extremely exotic witch.
Smales, putting as much authority into his voice as his twenty years could muster, said, 'Come along now, Miss. You've no right to be here.' His colour deepened when the woman ignored him. There was an air of suppressed excitement about her, and although she was doing her best to conceal it, the fluttering muscle in her cheek gave the lie to her efforts. She had still said nothing. Her silence only disconcerted the young officer even more. He gripped her arm, but she shook him off as if he were no more than a minor irritation and he stood irresolute and uncertain until Rafferty took pity on him and dismissed him.
The woman fixed her great dark eyes on Rafferty. 'Jaspair is dead, is he not?'
'You are Mrs Mercedes Moreno I take it?'
'Of course. Who else would I be?'
Who else, indeed? 'Would you mind telling me how you knew Mr Moon was dead?' Dispensing with Superintendent Bradley's preferred brand of crawling civility, he demanded sharply of Astell as, in response to the noise, he came out of his office, 'Did you contact her and tell her of Moon's death while you were waiting for us to arrive?'
Astell denied it.
'Edwin has told me nothing.' Her expression haughty, as if she considered the answering of police questions to be beneath her, she added, 'I read the Tarot for Jaspair yesterday during my lunch break. Each card told of sudden happenings and great changes. First, he drew the Death card.' Showing a gift for timing the late Olivier might have envied, she paused dramatically, waiting for a reaction. When even Rafferty failed to oblige, she went on, 'Admittedly, this card indicates the end of a natural cycle rather than death itself, but even so... Next, it was the Ten of Swords which warns of trials and tribulations, and The Tower, which represents the defeat of false philosophies, and finally, the Page of Swords, which warns of a deceitful person.' She paused once more and gazed from face to face, before telling them with a proud toss of her head, 'I am vidente—fey, I think you call it. But, even without the warnings from the cards, I sensed danger for Jaspair, negative auras surrounded him and I warned him to take care.' Solemnly, she added, 'It is a pity he did not listen to me.'
At a loss, Rafferty was careful to avoid Llewellyn's eye. He was still fumbling around for an appropriate response when a prolonged bout of wheezy coughing from Astell saved him the trouble.
'Sorry.' Astell apologised, and explained, 'Bronchitis. Suffered from it for years.'
'You should live in a warmer climate, Edwin,' Mercedes told him with a silky concern that, in Rafferty's jaundiced view, sounded overly effusive. 'Have I not told you this before? Always you will have this problem until you do.'
'A sensible suggestion, if lacking in practicality,' was Astell's terse comment. 'My life, my wife, my work is here.'
'None of them are of any use to you if you are dead,' she told him prosaically. 'And I thought you were so much improved yesterday.' She felt his forehead and he backed away in irritation. 'You are very hot. You should go home and go to bed.'
If anyone could blow their nose in a manner that said clearly – mind your own business – Astell did so. He put his handkerchief away. 'How can I, with-with Jasper dead? Someone's got to keep the business afloat. Or are you suggesting I leave you in charge?'
Mercedes Moreno's eyes glittered angrily at the rebuke, but she said no more. After a few moments uncomfortable silence, Rafferty asked, 'and how did Mr Moon take your, er, your warning, Mrs Moreno?'
Disdainfully, she told him, 'He accused me of, how you say, fixing the pack. He never take me seriously. As if I would do such a thing. I was upset that he should think I might. He thought I made practical joke.' Her voice was shrill with outrage, though whether at Moon's accusation, Astell's rebuke, or his own scepticism, Rafferty couldn't say. 'I nevair joke.'
Rafferty could believe it. She reminded him of sombre, history-book portraits of long-dead and fanatically devout Spaniards at the time of the Inquisition. As a lapsed Catholic, such obsessive intensity always gave him a shiver of dread.
Nostrils flaring, she declared, 'El Senor Moon and La Senora Campbell seemed to think that because I have none of their pieces of paper that my skills are the second rate sort, fit only for selling trinkets in the shop. Is not true. In my own country I was highly thought of, but here—’ she made a noise of disgust.
Half expecting her to stamp her foot and burst into a flood of incomprehensible Spanish, Rafferty wondered why she hadn't stayed in her own country if they had thought so highly of her. She had made no comment about Astell's opinion of her skills, but it was clear he didn't rate them very highly. If he had, he wouldn't have been so sharp with her.
She was clearly a highly-excitable woman, fond of dramatizing herself. It was unlikely they'd ever get to the bottom of her outlandish claims, and Rafferty, refusing to let her wrong-foot him, ushered them all into Astell's office and shut the door.
'Perhaps you would both like to tell me when you last saw Mr Moon?' he suggested. 'You first, Mrs Moreno.'
'I left at 6.10 p m, a little later than usual as I had first to get changed. I went upstairs to say good night to Jaspair. He was in his office.'
'Was he alone?'
'Yes. But the cleaner, she was in the kitchen. Jaspair tease me again about my warning. I was upset that he made mock of me and told him so. I went straight from work to Senor and Senora Astell. Senora Astell had invited me over. Yesterday was the anniversary of her beloved father's death,' she explained. 'She wanted to mark it properly. English people, I find, have little feeling for such rituals, but not Senora Astell. She has the proper respect for her family, and although she is not Catholic, she knew that in my religion, we show the dead due reverence; we pray for them, light candles for them to lessen the time they must spend in Purgatory. She has a little shrine to her father and she asked me to come to share the evening with her, her husband, and an elderly lady friend of her father's. It was an honour to be asked.'
'What time did this, er, occasion start and finish?' Rafferty asked Astell.
'It started about 6.30 p m and ended quite early, about 8.00 p m. Clara Davies, my father-in-law's old friend is quite elderly now, and doesn't enjoy late nights, not that these affairs have ever gone on very late.' Suddenly, as if sorry about his earlier sharpness, he smiled at the Peruvian woman. 'Mrs Moreno was concerned that my wife would be anxious and came a little early. She knew my wife planned to serve a light buffet afterwards, and wanted to help.'
'Is the least I could do,' she told him softly. 'I am very fond of Senora Astell and it was an important occasion for her. I offered to help clear up before I left the first time, but Mr Astell would not hear of it.' She smiled a smug smile. 'But I got my way in the end. That is why I leave the gloves,' she explained. 'So I have an excuse to return. The cleaner had gone home sick and is not right that Mr Astell should have to do women's work.'
Astell seemed to find her out-dated attitude embarrassing. 'I only had to load up the dishwasher,' he explained. 'Not such an arduous task after all.'
'Even so,' she began. Rafferty, tiring of this dish-talk, interrupted her to ask, 'I gather you finally left a little before 9.00 p m?' She nodded.
He turned to Astell. 'And you, sir? What time did you last see Mr Moon?'
'About 5.30 p m. Jasper's 4.00 p m client had left about half an hour earlier. He'd have been alone once Mrs Hadleigh left at 7.00 p m. Although Jasper was healthy enough, he wasn't a particularly fit man, Inspector. He'd have been easy prey for any violent intruder.'
Rafferty sighed and glanced at Llewellyn. Edwin Astell seemed determined to believe that some anonymous intruder had killed Moon, as if convinced that repetition of this belief would incline the police to share it. Rafferty wished he could share it; he didn't relish the thought that one of Moon's well-known and probably litigious clients had killed him. If they had, and Rafferty failed to nail them thoroughly, he foresaw claims for wrongful arrest flying around his unprotected head. For he could be sure that Bradley would promptly disown him.
Get a grip, Rafferty. Worry about making an arrest when you've got a firm suspect, not before. Still, that locked cash box was interesting. To lock up afterwards was the natural instinct of the security conscious owner, or conscientious employee, not of a thief. It was possible that the murder was an inside job and the window was broken and the money taken afterwards in order to deflect suspicion. However, he said nothing of this to Astell. 'You went home straight after?' he asked.
'Yes. I bathed and changed into my dinner suit—as Mrs Moreno mentioned, my wife regarded these anniversary evenings as special, so I like to make an effort. My wife is a semi-invalid, Inspector, doesn't get out much and does very little socialising, so these evenings are that much more important to her.'
Rafferty nodded. 'I didn't realise your wife was an invalid. It must be difficult for you.'
'Oh, she's not in a wheelchair or anything like that, Inspector.' Astell frowned. 'It might be better if she were. If she had a specific physical problem, then at least the doctors might be able to do something for her. As it is, beyond saying she's highly-strung, over-anxious and prone to the muscular aches and pains and exhaustion brought about by her anxiety syndrome, they are unable to tell me much.' He enlarged a little more about his wife's poor health, as though pleased to find a sympathetic audience, before he carried on with his explanation. 'Anyway, we hold this little remembrance service every year for my late father-in-law, Alan Carstairs. Usually, we have more guests, but my wife hasn't felt up to the extra effort this year, so it was just the four of us.'
After a few more questions, Rafferty let Mrs Moreno go. 'Can you accompany my sergeant so the fingerprint man can take your prints?' he asked. 'Simply for purposes of elimination,' he explained before she could protest. Having expected her to make a fuss, he was surprised when she agreed with no difficulty. When she had gone with Llewellyn, Rafferty turned back to Astell. 'I'm afraid you won't be able to use the premises until the forensic team have finished their work. Could be a day or two.'
Astell nodded. 'Probably little point in opening, anyway, Inspector. With Jasper gone, the only people likely to want to make appointments will be the usual ghouls.'
From Astell's drawn features, Rafferty guessed that Moon's death would adversely affect the business. Moon – to a large extent – apparently was the business. 'We'll do our best to keep the ghouls away, sir. I'll ask the forensic team to work as quickly as possible so you can get back to some kind of normality. One more thing. Which of your staff have keys to the premises?'
'All of them. Mrs Hadleigh, the cleaner, starts work before anyone else gets in. And, of course, the shop stays open till 6.00 p m to catch the returning office workers, so Mrs Moreno has a key. When Jasper is away on working trips abroad there would otherwise be no-one to lock up the shop.'
'But wouldn't you or Mrs Campbell still be working?'
'No. As I told you, both Mrs Campbell and I concentrate more on the postal side, so work mainly office hours. Because of my wife's ill-health, I like to leave fairly promptly. She becomes upset if I'm not home when expected. Anyway, most people who require a personal consultation naturally want to see Jasper. He's the one they've heard of, you see.'
'You don't mind?'
Astell shrugged. 'We both had our niche. Some of the clients can get very emotional, very demanding. I'm better applying my skills at a distance, as it were. But Jasper is – was – splendid at dealing with such people. Besides, I still spent a large part of my time on the book-keeping, and so on.'
'I understand Mr Moon was a wealthy man?' Astell nodded. 'Do you know if he made a Will?'
'I've no idea. But I can give you the name of his solicitors.' He did so as Llewellyn popped his head round the door. Rafferty said, 'You won't forget to check that none of Mr Moon's client files are missing before you go, sir?’ Astell shook his head. ‘I'll assign one of my officers to help you.'
'Llewellyn, check that the SOCOs have finished with the filing cabinet and diary, will you, before you take Mr Astell for his prints?' He turned back to Astell as Llewellyn vanished. 'There is one more thing before you go, sir. Could you let me know the name of Mr Moon's next of kin? Was he married?'
Again Astell shook his head.
'So, who would his next of kin be?'
'I don't know. His parents were both dead and he had no brothers or sisters. He never talked about having any close family.'
'He lived alone then?'
'Actually, Jasper didn't live alone. He, um, he lived with another man, by the name of Farley. Christian Farley.'
Rafferty stared at him for a moment, before what Astell had said sunk in. 'I see. Have Moon and this Mr Farley lived together long?'
'About five years, I believe.'
Happily anticipating nothing more than the usual short duration of most homosexual romances, Rafferty felt a sinking sensation at this news. Moon and Farley's relationship had lasted longer than many modern marriages and his stomach tensed at the thought of the embarrassment and difficulties to come. No matter how hard he tried to act normally, homosexuals always made him feel awkward; it was something else for which he could thank the Catholic Church. Although consciously he'd rejected their teachings on most things, some aspects had evidently taken subconscious root. Even now, he still felt a twinge of guilt whenever he used a condom; the Catholic Church having long frowned on any sexual act that wasn't purely and simply for the procreation of children. And their views on homosexual unions were like something out of the Middle-Ages, full of fire and brimstone warnings that unnatural practises earned an eternity in a devilish barbeque pit where they never ran out of charcoal.
Rafferty wondered how he would have coped after such indoctrination if he had found his sexual inclinations to be other than male-female. Back came the answer: badly. He supposed, with all the givens, he should be thankful that awkward was all he felt in their company. He cleared his throat. 'Is, er, is Mr Moon's... Is this Mr Farley likely to be at home now, do you think?'
'I imagine so. He doesn't have any kind of employment. Hasn't had any for the last two years. I'd-I'd break the news gently, Inspector. Farley can be a little emotional. Of course, he's a Cancer sun with a Pisces Moon, so it's understandable. Two Water signs prominent in his chart, you see.'
Rafferty stared at him in dismay. Homosexual and emotional. He just hoped this Farley didn't fling himself round his neck and burst into tears. He couldn't be sure that his reaction would be as sympathetic as Farley's loss warranted and Llewellyn was unlikely to be much help. The Welshman had confided to Rafferty at the beginning of their very first case together, that as a boy, his minister father had insisted on him accompanying him to break news of death. His distaste for such tasks had increased with the years, and now, such occasions rendered him even more awkward than Rafferty among homosexuals. It was one of the intellectual Welshman's more human weaknesses and Rafferty liked him the better for it.
By the time Rafferty had checked a few more points, Llewellyn had returned, and he let Astell go. After ringing the station and organising the house-to-house team, he nominated several officers to make a start in listing Moon's client files as soon as Astell had confirmed there were none missing.
Virginia Campbell had still not turned up, though the officer assigned to check her address said a neighbour had confirmed she had been about that morning, so Rafferty ruled out the possibility of a flit. If she had reason to flit, last night would have been the time to do it. Maybe it was as Astell had said and Moon had given her a second day off without mentioning the fact. Hopefully she would return home at some point during the day, because he would need to get her statement.
'Right.’ He turned to the hovering Llewellyn. 'Let's go and see Moon's boyfriend.' Rafferty told him what Astell had said, and as he had expected, Llewellyn's long face grew appreciably longer. 'Farley has two Water signs prominent, according to Astell,' Rafferty told him. 'So I reckon we can expect plenty of waterworks. Cheer up, Dafyd.' Rafferty couldn't resist the dig. 'With such sensitive palms, you should have no trouble mopping him up. Let's get moving.'
