She had her shoulders hunched against the winter cold, heels clicking swiftly on the pavement. Baker was already in the office. The newspaper lay unopened in front of him on the card table. The air was thick with the fog of shag tobacco. ‘About time you made it in,’ he said. ‘I’ve been here for half an hour.’ Markham looked at his watch. Not even quarter to nine yet. Still early. He lit a Craven A. ‘Why so early?’ ‘This de Vries thing’s been bothering me all night,’ Baker said. ‘Made me dyspeptic. I keep wondering what’s so special about him that someone would go through his room? How would they even know he was gone?’ ‘I still think we should give this back to the police,’ Markham told him. ‘I don’t think there’s anything they can do that we can’t.’ But there was a satisfied look on his face. He’d found something to worry at, something to claim his time and his knowledge. ‘Not at the moment, anyway.’ ‘Then what do you reckon we ought to do?
What do You think about The New Eastgate Swing (2015)?
