Watters shook his head. “It’s an unclaimed watch from the Lost Property locker that’s been lying on a shelf for two years.”
“Thanks for your confidence, Sergeant,” Shaw said. He adjusted his hat, slackened his belt, so his moleskin trousers hung loose and opened his jacket to reveal the watch chain. “Before you say anything, Scuddamore, I bought these clothes from Mrs Flannery’s. She’s the only pawnshop that refuses stolen goods.”
“I thought you always dressed like that,” Scuddamore said.
“All I need is a scattering of straw and peat on my boots, and I’d look like a Donald, straight from the glens.” Shaw put down his mug. “All right, let’s catch this fellow.”
Watters lit his pipe and glanced at his watch. Shaw had been sauntering around the town centre for a good two hours so far, with
