PERHAPS LLEWELLYN HAD sent a prayer up to his Methodist God, but as luck would have it, when he rang, he got Professor Fanshaw. So his Artful Dodger impersonation wasn’t necessary.
‘Good evening, Professor. It’s Inspector Rafferty here. Elmhurst CID. Yes, sir, that’s right. Thing is, I was talking to your wife earlier, and she said she’d email me a copy of your wedding certificate. Yes, just routine checking. You will? Thank you, Professor. I’ll look forward to receiving it.’
He put down the phone, smiled, and looked at Llewellyn. ‘You can call me Lucky.’
‘Very lucky. That you didn’t get Mrs Fanshaw—or Mrs Briggs, as you insist on calling her.’
‘Mm.’ Perhaps his luck was changing. And when he logged into his email, there it was: Fanshaw had sent an attachment. He clicked on the attachm
