‘What's going on?’ Miller demanded of Rafferty as he wrenched his right arm from Smales's grasp, almost sending the younger and slighter-built Smales flying in the process.
‘Perhaps you could tell me who you are, sir?’ Rafferty enquired.
‘I'm Nick. Nick Miller. Mrs Raine's gardener. I don't know who your officer thought I was when he grabbed hold of me.’ Miller directed an unfriendly stare at the red-faced Smales.
Given the macho, tight-T-shirted physique and the leather tool-belt that held the accoutrements of his trade and which he wore with more than a hint of swagger, Rafferty suspected that Timothy Smales had thought him someone got up for an audition for the gay band The Village People. However, he kept this suspicion to himself; somehow he thought it unlikely the macho Miller wou
