Although he had often addressed the assembled police force, Watters was never comfortable speaking to an audience. He sipped at his tea, stood up in the duty room, cleared his throat, and rapped the weighted end of his cane on the desk.
“Gentlemen!”
Watters ignored the expected, “Who are you calling gentlemen?” and “That’s you out, Duff,” comments and allowed the officers a few moments to settle.
“We all know Dundee, but I will start my little speech with a few facts and figures. We have five hundred and seventy-five licensed houses in Dundee, with one hundred and four brokers and twenty-two pawnshops, providing cash to feed these official drinking dens. I estimate that the people of Dundee spend about two hundred and fifty thousand pounds annually in licensed premises.”
Watters could
