'ANOTHER WASTE OF TIME.' Rafferty muttered as he and Llewellyn climbed back in the car. And given Freddie Talbot's seemingly endless ability to dominate the conversation without saying much of any interest, he had managed to waste plenty of it.
'Fancy' Freddie had struck Rafferty as a vain little man, with his cravat and the walking stick that he used with such emphasis.
When they got back to the station it was to find that forensic had released the pile of birthday cards Clara Mortimer had received on the morning of her death.
There were six of them. Curiously, Rafferty opened them. One was from the Toombses and contained a sentimental little verse about friendship that had presumably been picked by Mrs Toombes rather than her fisherman husband. Their card brought to Rafferty the unwel
