The bald man stood aside as Peggy passed over the mug of coffee. "You"ll be asking about that murder in Atlantic Street, Sergeant."
"I will be, Peggy." He sipped the coffee. Piping hot, it seemed to seep inside every corner of him, giving comfort on this cold day. He had spent the last four hours touring pawn shops, searching for bloodstained clothing in the hope that the murder of one of his companions had been less than careful. He had found nothing.
"Well, I never heard much." She leaned closer, frowning as a street urchin came too close. "You clear off, see? Not you Mr Watters, it"s that young vagabond I"m shouting at."
Watters glanced downward. "What are you after, youngster?"
"You"re a bluebottle bastard," the boy shouted and ran away before Watters could react.
"Young rogue," P
