Constable Evans 02: Evan Help Us
““I’m not open yet,” he said, throwing down the carcass on the marble slab and picking up a cleaver. Sergeant Watkins came to an abrupt halt at the sight of the cleaver and the blood-spattered apron. Then the butcher appeared to focus on them and muttered, “Oh, it’s you. What do you want?”
“How’s the headache this morning, Gareth?” Evan asked.
“I’ve had worse.” Evans-the-Meat started chopping as he spoke.
“This is Detective Sergeant Watkins from Caernarfon, Gareth,” Evan said. “He’s got some questions he wants to ask you.”
“You didn’t report me for last night, did you?” Evans-the-Meat demanded. “So I had a couple too many and that fool made me lose my temper—”
“That fool is dead, Gareth,” Evan said calmly.
Evans-the-Meat’s mouth dropped open. “Ted Morgan is dead?”
“He killed himself last night, apparently,” Evan told him.
Evans-the-Meat passed his hand across his face. “Ted Morgan? Killed himself? Go on—you’re pulling my leg, aren’t you?”
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