RAFFERTY WAS IN THE police canteen having some lunch when Tom Kendall plonked his tray on the table and sat opposite. Rafferty glanced up from his plate, took in Kendall’s satisfied expression, and the curry in his stomach sent a wave of spices up to his throat, where they lodged. He wasn’t keen on that expression and what it might indicate. But he liked the explanation for it even less.
Tom had two mugs of tea on his tray and he dumped one in front of Rafferty. ‘Seeing as you were so interested in my electrical warehouse case, I thought we should share a celebratory mug of tea.’
Even more wary now, Rafferty picked up the fresh tea and evinced nonchalant interest. ‘So what are we celebrating?’
‘Some of the stolen goods from the last warehouse job have turned up. Seems Paul Perkins had a
