Chapter Twenty-Five
The next morning, sore head or not, Rafferty made sure he got up early. He had turned the clock radio up, so he’d be sure to hear it when it went off. He rang the station to get the troops mobilized and was out the door in fifteen minutes flat, not even stopping to make Abra her tea. He reviewed everything he had found out last night once his Ma and her sharp ears had become lost in the throng and after he’d phoned a couple of the reunees.
Everything fitted neatly into his latest theory like a size zero model down a drain hole; even the letter they had found in Adam Ainsley’s flat. Admittedly, as with the case against Alice Douglas, it was all circumstantial, but he knew a way to make one of the circumstances stick, at least.
Llewellyn was the first to hear his lates
