Chapter Sixteen
‘WHAT THE BLOODY HELL do you want?’ Nigel demanded as soon as he had buzzed Rafferty up to his swanky apartment and opened the door. ‘It’s my day off. I had a late night and was sleeping it off. If it’s about your honeymoon—’
‘It’s not. I’m investigating the murder of Adrienne Staveley, as I told you days ago. And what do I find? That you’re the agent acting for her and her husband in their house sale. Why didn’t you tell me that you’re the agent? I had to find it out for myself. It’s made me feel a right plonker.’
‘So what’s new? And so what if I am the agent? That woman’s murder is nothing to do with me.’ Nigel drew together the sides of his regal purple dressing gown with a kingly disdain.
He didn’t invite Rafferty to sit, so Rafferty issued the invitation himself an
