Chapter Eighteen
WHEN THEY GOT TO THE Black Swan, and had ordered their drinks and their meals – mushroom omelette and chips and mixed salad with jacket potato – Rafferty put his Adnams bitter down, and admitted, ‘I really have no idea where we’re going with this case. Every potential lead takes us to a dead end with no proof to help us climb over the wall.’ He acknowledged it was an admission, as the Senior Investigating Officer on the case, that would probably be better left unsaid. He was meant to be leading from the front in the investigation—the ideas were meant to come from him.
But in spite of his several irritating faults, Llewellyn had always been a supportive partner. He sipped his mineral water contemplatively and observed; ‘We’ve done all we can. You’ve done all you can. Some
