The next morning, Llewellyn was bright-eyed and bushy-tailed as usual.
Not so Rafferty. He sat, head in hands, groaning pitifully. ‘Got any paracetamols?’
Silently, Llewellyn produced a packet. For the next ten, twenty, thirty seconds, the only sound was Rafferty slurping his tea. Llewellyn could stand it no longer. ‘Well?’
‘Well? I should say not. I think I’m dying.’
‘I meant—are you going to tell me? About last night?’
‘Tell you? It was a great night. What more can I say?’
‘You’re being deliberately obtuse.’
‘I am, aren’t I? Right, then. Joey Briggs dealt drugs, did he not? Just one, amongst many, of his attempts to make it big in the crime world. Never made it. But what he did make was an enemy. I remembered, almost too late, what Sven Daniels told me about Professor Fanshaw when we were at his house, and he did his absent-minded professor act. About how his son died. And how the professor reacted.’
‘And?’
‘His son, his only son, died from a drugs overdose, while he was on holiday from university.’ He met Llewellyn’s eye. ‘I looked the story up. On the internet.’
Llewellyn just succeeded in not raising his eyebrows in astonishment at Rafferty’s newly discovered skill with all things technological. In a level voice, he asked, ‘And from that you deduced—?’
‘That Joey Briggs sold him the drugs. I confirmed it with Tracey. And when Joey came back here this last time, in his failed attempt to woo Tracey into going back to him, out of spite at her latest rejection of him, Joey told her that her oh-so-respectable new partner’s son had been a customer of his. Of course, he didn’t know the professor’s son had died. He just wanted to rub her nose in it. But Elmhurst’s a small enough place. Not that many drug dealers.’
He shrugged his shoulders. ‘If I was wrong—no harm done. But if I was right, once Tracey Briggs knew he’d never marry her, then she had no reason to shield the professor any longer. But, just in case, I thought what I suspected the professor planned for her, would help change her mind. Fanshaw realised the danger he was in that night we were there at their home, and they had their row. He was desperate to get us out of the house, in case she blurted it out then. Don’t you remember how he hustled us out? No wonder he was pretending to be the absent-minded professor to the life. He sure as hell never struck me that way before.’
He reached in his pocket and pulled out Tracey Briggs’s iPhone. ‘Have a listen to that. Oh, there’s even a photo, too. Caught the professor perfectly, brick raised, and with a mad glint in his eye.’ Rafferty rose and made for the door. ‘Only, I’ve got Fanshaw to interview. No way can I listen to Tracey screech this morning.’
Rafferty was almost at the door, when he paused. ‘Oh, and you might want to listen to another recording I asked Tracey to make. Between her and Charlie Carver. She does plenty of screeching on that, too. Strange what some men will say to placate a screeching female. Got Carver bang to rights.’ Now that his hangover was easing, he managed a grin, as he added, ‘Come when you’re ready.’ And he went out.
***///***
Please could you leave me a review if you have enjoyed this novel? There is so much competition in the online world, an author needs reviews to stand any chance in the market-place. It doesn’t need to be long; just a short, honest opinion. I’d be so grateful.
Here’s the review page:
https://www.kobo.com/gb/en/ebook/the-spanish-connection-1
And if you would like to read an extract of the next book in the Rafferty & Llewellyn series, here it is: