Chapter ThirteenRafferty had taken his ma’s advice on board and bombarded Abra with deliveries of flowers, wine, chocolates and humble petitions in equal proportions. But she was still ignoring him. Maybe if he—
‘Quiet times?’
Rafferty broke off from his reverie at Llewellyn's comment. 'What?' he asked.
Llewellyn sat down on the opposite side of the table in the police canteen. In front of him, with unnecessary tentativeness, he placed a healthy salad baguette and a plastic tumbler filled with what looked like grapefruit juice.
Rafferty pulled a face at this last item. How anyone could drink such bitter stuff?
It was a late lunch for both of them. It was almost 3.00 p m; apart from the canteen staff, himself and Llewellyn, the canteen was almost empty.
‘It’s just that you’ve been rat
