Dead Before Morning Extract First Novel in the Rafferty and Llewellyn Crime Series

One

'Is it yourself?'

Detective Inspector Joseph Aloysius Rafferty winced as his mother's voice
threatened to pierce his eardrum, and, although briefly tempted to plead not guilty,
he had perforce to agree that yes, it was himself. Surely, he demanded of his
reflection in the hall mirror, a hangover, a murder and his mother all in one morning
were more than any man should be expected to cope with? Especially at six thirty
in the morning and after less than four hour's sleep. 'I can't stop, Ma. Sergeant
Llewellyn will be picking me up any minute.'

'I won't keep you then, son, but I didn't know who else to turn to and what with the
wedding and all...'

Rafferty frowned. News of the murder had already taken its toll on his hungover
wits, but the word 'wedding' on his ma's tongue was even more worrying and he
struggled to get his brain into gear. 'What wedding?'

'I know Jack's only a distant cousin,' she remarked briskly, 'but surely you haven't
forgotten that he's over from Dublin to marry my niece, Deirdre?'

That wedding. How could he have forgotten that Jailhouse Jack, the world's most
incompetent criminal, was preparing to plight his troth and pass his genes on to
the next generation? What a wonderful addition to a policeman's family the
bridegroom would be, he thought ruefully. Thank God the happy couple would be
going back to Ireland straight after the wedding and surely even Jack could stay
out of trouble for the few weeks he'd be...