THE DIAZ MARITAL BEDROOM was lavish, with wall-to-wall wardrobes and a carpet so thick Rafferty longed to take off his shoes and socks and feel his feet embraced by its softness. Getting poetical again, Rafferty, he warned himself. Don’t go there. Not now, anyway.
There was a large en-suite with a sunken bath and double shower, but there was nothing in there that interested Rafferty. He pulled out the drawer in the bedside table on the side, that from the pile of girlie magazines and romantic comedies, was clearly Sophie’s, but there was little but an assortment of sleeping tablets and anti-depressants, certainly no diary which would reveal anything.
Llewellyn was checking the wardrobe; it stretched the length of the room, which must have been twenty-five feet and not far off as wide. Ra
