FORTUNATELY, THEY DIDN’T even have to trace Mary Soames. She came forward immediately she read of Clara Mortimer’s brutal murder in the morning’s Elmhurst Echo.
Mary Soames it seemed, like her late friend, Mrs Mortimer, was an early riser, for she had already rung the station and arranged for them to call to see her by the time Rafferty arrived at work.
As Rita Atkins had said, Mrs Soames lived in the southern outskirts of Elmhurst in a spacious, Georgian-style detached house enclosed within what looked to be about an acre of land.
As Rafferty and Llewellyn drew up outside the front door and parked on a short gravelled drive lined with what looked like hand-thrown tubs filled with deliciously scented pinks and butterfly lavender, Rafferty caught a glimpse of the tall chimney pots of ano
