CHAPTER EIGHT
Rafferty entered the station the next morning deep in thought, and, until one of them hailed him, oblivious to the blur of faces clustered round the drinks machine.
'Too proud to talk to an old man? Joe?'
'Hawkeye. Sorry. I'm a bit preoccupied.' Harry "Hawkeye" Harrison had been Rafferty's immediate superior when he had joined the force; he had taught Rafferty a lot, and he had some fond memories of him. Now retired from the police force, Hawkeye worked as a security guard in a tailors in the shopping centre at Great Mannleigh, ten miles to the north. But he missed the camaraderie of the force and often popped in for a chat. 'How's tricks?'
'So-so. Mind I reckon you'll have to start calling me "Bat-eye" soon. That damn security video screen plays havoc with the eyesight.'
