RAFFERTY SPENT A QUITE Sunday. Conscious that clean shirts and underclothes were getting seriously low, he did his laundry and tidied the flat. Then, work done for the morning, he took himself down to The Railway Arms for a quiet drink. The weather had changed. It was wet and blustery, and as soon as Rafferty opened the main entrance door to the flats and headed for his car, the weather succeeded in draining the optimism of the previous evening out of him and he became convinced that he'd made too much of the possible connection between Keith Sutherland's murder and the warehouse thefts. He had always tended to run ahead of the facts. Llewellyn, with his cool logic, acted as a good guard against the tendency.
He ordered a pint of Adnams and settled at the bar. The pub was busy; it always
