CHAPTER TWELVE
Seagulls circled above as Watters sat in the stern of the dinghy, watching the waves rise around him. Mr Gall, the Broughty Ferry boat builder, had been happy to lease one of his boats to carry Watters and Duff out to the Tay Sands.
“I’ll take you myself,” Gall said. “God knows it’s not often I get away from the office nowadays. There’s so much documentation involved that I rarely put my hands on an adze, let alone a pair of oars.” He left his office with alacrity. “Come on, Sergeant, and you too, Constable Duff. It’s low water, so you’ll be able to visit the wreck. With such heavy cargo, Teresa sunk at once.”
“Stones, wasn’t it?” Watters asked.
“Aye, building stones from Kingoodie quarry,” Gall said. “Stones and potatoes. The saltwater will ruin the tatties, though.” He
