Chapter Twenty
IT WAS THE NIGHT BEFORE Christmas. Rafferty had received an early gift. For Marcus Canthorpe had begun to sing. Fortunately, his chosen airs weren’t Christmas carols, but the truth about Seward’s murder.
Rafferty was pleased he had been right in his expectation that Canthorpe would tell all sooner rather than later. They had proof enough of his guilt over the twins’ deaths, so why should he continue to deprive himself of the satisfaction of explaining just how clever he’d been over the murder of Sir Rufus Seward? He was going to jail whatever happened. Why should he care if it was for three murders rather than two?
Rafferty and Llewellyn, recalled to Norwich Police Station by DI Apsley for another session with Canthorpe, had hardly entered the interview room before Cantho
