RAFFERTY STOOD FOR a moment lost in thought. Then he gazed at the officers with their heads buried amongst Laura Scott’s lost Causes and said, ‘I’ve got an urgent appointment with some porcelain. Back in a minute.’
He rushed off to the bathroom. Turned the taps on to foil any attempts at eavesdropping, then stabbed urgently at the keys of his mobile.
‘Patrick Sean?’
‘And what time do you call this? I’m still in the pub and I calculate that you’re exactly seventeen hours and thirty-eight minutes late for our meeting. What kept you?’
‘A little matter of murder, remember?’
‘Oh, yeah. That ol’ thing. Who was murdered, anyway? Anyone I’m likely to know?’
‘Shouldn’t think so. One of the teachers at the Comp.’
‘Not old Mrs-Cramp-Your-Style?’
‘No. Anyway, she must be retired by now. She wa
