JOHN JAWS HARRISON had lived in a small first floor flat off the High Street. A slatternly-looking bleached blonde with a cigarette dangling from her lip, answered the door. Her low-cut top and short skirt made Rafferty wonder if Jaws had done a bit of pimping on the side.
‘Yeah? What do you want?’ she asked after they had shown her their IDs. Her expression was sullen and unwelcoming. It seemed police officers were not her favourite people.
Rafferty braced himself. ‘If we could come in for a few minutes? I’m afraid we have some bad news for you.’
‘Bad news? What bad news?’ She stood, arms folded, barring their way, her expression suspicious as if she thought they were trying to gain entry under false pretences.
Rafferty tried again. ‘It’s about Mr Harrison,’ he began. ‘He–’
‘What’s h
