Chapter Three
It was only a five-minute drive back to the ancient Essex market town, though winding lanes bordered by hedgerows. In the summer, these lanes were gaudy with roadside flowers. Flaming red poppies, bridal white cow parsley and multi-hued foxgloves would, like the undead, thrust their limbs through the soil. The breeze would waft the very scents of summer into the car.
Rafferty managed to find a parking place only a little way up from the solicitor’s High Street office. He gave a grunt of satisfaction as he pulled on the handbrake. ‘See, Ma. No yellow lines.’
‘Mmm. Not like you’ Llewellyn replied. ‘You have a penchant for breaking the traffic laws.’
‘“A penchant,” hey? Now that’s something I didn’t know I had. Talents unlimited, that’s me.’
The solicitor’s office was house
