‘And you, sir?’ Rafferty turned towards the older man who was standing just inside the kitchen door as if he wasn’t sure of his welcome.
‘I’m Freddie,’ the man said in a cheery voice that sounded out of place in a house of mourning. ‘Freddie Sullivan. I’m the gardener/handyman. I’m married to Dahlia. Dahlia Sullivan, that is. The housekeeper.’
‘Thank you.’ Rafferty turned to Llewellyn. ‘You’ve got all that, Sergeant?’
Llewellyn nodded.
‘Right. We’ll need to speak to each of you individually. Just a preliminary chat as I have an urgent appointment at eleven. I’ll speak to you more thoroughly later today.’ He looked at Dahlia Sullivan, the housekeeper. ‘Perhaps we could start with you?’
Dahlia Sullivan looked at him uncertainly. ‘But, surely you’ll want to speak to the family first?’
R
