RAFFERTY ENTERED RECEPTION with a deceptively casual air and hailed Constable Bill Beard, who was propped behind the counter. Beard was something of an institution at the station. He had been there longer than anyone else on the strength. Luckily, he was an inveterate gossip. If anyone knew anything that Bradley would rather remain covered up, it was Bill.
‘How’s the crossword coming on?’ Rafferty asked as he nodded towards the Daily Mirror that he knew would be hidden beneath the counter.
Beard raised his eyebrows. ‘Since when were you interested in my intellectual pursuits?’
Wrong move, Rafferty. Beard had a natural antenna for sniffing out ulterior motives. Rafferty tried another tack. ‘No reason,’ he replied airily. ‘Just looking for a bit of light relief from this murder inquiry. I
