THE NAME OF MCCANN, Doolittle and Steel might have sounded as dusty and Dickensian as Jarndyce and Jarndyce, but the solicitors’ business premises were modern; a three-storey office building on the northern side of Norwich, that could have been erected no more than a few years earlier.
Inside, it was sleek and streamlined and like no solicitor’s office that Rafferty had ever seen. He introduced himself and Llewellyn to the receptionist, and explained the reason for their visit. Eager for some friendly chat after a mostly silent drive, Rafferty commented on this to the middle-aged woman seated behind the black marble reception counter as she replaced the telephone receiver in its rest after alerting Philip Metcalfe’s secretary of their arrival.
She smiled. ‘I know what you mean, Inspector
