THE NEXT MORNING, RAFFERTY rubbed his chin then swept his fingers up to his forehead. As the burns on his chest still stung and looking for reasons to be cheerful, he admitted it felt good to be himself again after the demands of his previous case. No more raspy whiskers. No more No 1 haircut. Currently, thanks to the previous evening's babysitting stint, he was also, not so happily, free of the manly chest hair that Abra had so admired. Still, it was a relief to have put aside his late father’s old prescription spectacles, which his previous case had made obligatory.
Yes, he thought. It felt good to be – more or less – his old self again. Now, if only he and Abra could get back to how they had been.
The speed of the deterioration in their relationship had left him bewildered until his M
