RAFFERTY WOKE AND SAT up, dry-mouthed and even more bleary-eyed than he’d been earlier in the evening, to find his wrists encased in bracelets of the policeman variety. Old-fashioned ones. The stripper had gone. Everyone else was lounging on the furniture looking in an equally sorry state, most of them snoring. Apart from Dafyd, who still sat bolt upright.
When he saw that Rafferty was awake, he said, ‘We ought to think about getting your brothers home and organising taxis for the rest.’
‘Never mind about that.’ He held up his wrists. ‘Can you get me out of these?’
Llewellyn pursed his lips. ‘They must have done that when I went to the bathroom. It’s fortunate that I suspected such tomfoolery likely to occur and took appropriate measures.’ He reached in his jacket for his wallet. Raffer
