“Watters! We think we"ve found the Mincer!” Inspector Anstruther leaned against the doorpost as he shouted across the Duty Room.
“Where is he?” Watters stood, reaching for his hat and cane.
“At the foot of Dundee Law,” Anstruther said without moving from his position.
“Duff! Scuddamore!” Watters roared. “Get me a squad of uniformed men!”
“You won"t need them,” Anstruther said. “Your Mincer"s as dead as anybody can be. It"s a shame you failed to find him sooner, Watters. A dead man can"t tell you anything.”
“Dead?” Watters repeated.
“Dead as yesterday"s mutton,” Anstruther said, smiling.
“Who the devil could kill the Mincer?” Watters asked. “Come on, lads, we"ve got work ahead of us.”
Somebody had stripped James Campbell and spreadeagled him on the springy turf, with pegs hammered t
