Mr Cox stood at the window of his office, looking over his domain. “I heard you were in the Royal Marines, Sergeant Watters.”
“I was, sir,” Watters replied.
“I also heard you worked in Scotland Yard.”
“That’s correct, sir.”
“I find it interesting that you moved from London, the heart of the empire, to a much smaller town.” Cox swivelled to fix Watters with an interrogative stare. “Was there a reason for that, Sergeant?”
“I missed Scotland, sir. An opening came up in Dundee, and I came home.”
Cox frowned. “Some people may call that a lack of ambition.”
“They may,” Watters agreed.
“Does that not concern you?” Cox’s gaze did not waver from Watters’ face.
“I am not responsible for other people’s opinions,” Watters said.
“No, you’re not,” Cox agreed.
Watters wondered about the point
