His sergeant waited, too. Jimmy was sprawled in his favourite position near the window, where he could look across at the office girls in the Civic Centre opposite. There was silence as Jimmy watched the girls and Alec studied that morning’s newspaper. ‘The Journal’s done a good spread on the Bigg Market affair,’ he said suddenly. ‘They’ve never had it so good, a murder and a clubland feud all in the same issue.’ ‘Poor old Mac must be doing his nut,’ cackled Grainger, irreverently. ‘He was paddling about the Tyne till God knows what time, then he gets our little lot thrown at him!’ Alec nodded and folded up the paper. ‘What goes on with this killing, I wonder? Had any news from your low friends in Photography?’ ‘Stumped, so I hear. The dredger took half his head off, so they haven’t a clue who he is. Young bloke, apparently – beaten to death. No missing persons to tally with him.’ ‘Maybe a protection job from Bradford or Leeds – or perhaps Papagos and Casella brought him up with them from the Smoke!’ said Bolam facetiously.
