THE NEXT MORNING, WHEN he reached the station, Rafferty sought out Tom Kendall, the DI in charge of the warehouse thefts investigation. He found him in his first floor office, nearly buried behind piles of paperwork.
‘Too busy for a chat, Tom?’ Rafferty asked as he entered the office.
‘I’m too busy for a crap, Joe. I’ve been in since seven. You can see how I’m fixed.’ A waving arm took in the towering paper piles. ‘But,’ he threw his pen down and sat back. ‘I’m about due for a break. Too much work and all that making Tom a dull boy. What can I do for you?’
‘It’s about those warehouse thefts. I wondered if you’ve made any progress.’
‘Why do you ask? What’s your interest?’
Although he was wriggling inside Rafferty did his best to emulate Llewellyn’s best poker face. ‘It’s just that I’m
