RAFFERTY WALKED INTO the police station and gave Constable Bill Beard on Reception orders that Carlton should be brought to one of the interview rooms. He glanced around but seeing nobody likely to fit the job description of a defence brief, he turned back to Beard, only to be confronted by a telephone receiver thrust towards him. ‘I’ll do it myself, shall I?’
‘If you’d be so kind.’
Rafferty, having rung through the order, thrust the receiver back at Beard, and asked, ‘Where’s his brief?’
‘Brief?’ said Constable Bill Beard, absently, sparing them a glance from his Daily Mirror crossword, before returning to nibbling the end of his pen and frowning.
‘You know, one of those hatchet-faced Jobsworths. So where is he?’ Rafferty asked again.
Beard sighed and put his pen down. ‘Who?’
‘The b
