RAFFERTY HAD SEVERAL times had dealings with Malcolm Forbes. He’d been warned on a couple of occasions about intimidating debtors who failed to pay their debts on time. The debtors, of course, always refused to press charges when the neighbours called the police, for fear that worse would follow. With the astronomical interest rates that Forbes charged, Rafferty was amazed that any of his clients managed to keep up their payments.
The weather had changed for the better; gone was the heavy rain and wind of yesterday. The pawnshop behind which Forbes operated his loan company was in Elmhurst High Street sandwiched between a charity shop and the independent butchers that Ma patronised. It looked reasonably smart with the morning sun glinting off its black paintwork and the three golden colou
