He was late. He'd arranged to meet Llewellyn at the family's business premises at three o'clock. It was already ten past. He hurried out to the car park, got in the car and put his foot down once out of the station gates and into Bacon Lane. L’oiseau was housed in an elegant Edwardian mansion out by East Hill. Rafferty had noticed it before during his travels around the town, so he had little difficulty in finding it. Not that the building could be said to exactly hide itself away. In the forecourt was a giant sign in the shape of a bird of paradise, with the words “L’oiseau. Designer to the stars”, proudly inscribed in elegant script on the bird's furled wing. The bay windows of the house had been utilized for display purposes and several stylish gowns, worn by an assortment of nose in the air mannequins, were exhibited. Llewellyn was sitting in his car in the forecourt, looking resigned and reading some heavy tome. Rafferty tapped on the window and when Llewellyn lowered it, he said, ‘You should get yourself a Kindle or an iPad and save your wrists.
