He sniffs, apparently clearing his nose, clips the case closed, then swaggers back towards the main street.
I snap my attention back to the theatre poster, then as he emerges, give him a fifty-yard start. With a final puff from the cigarette, I toss the foul thing into the gutter and follow.
We don't go far, this time just to the end of the block where a wide doorway gapes open under roller shutters. Inside, a car, an expensive model, is jacked up and from underneath, a pair of blue overalled legs stick out. A hand gropes in the oily concrete, grabs a spanner and disappears underneath again.
I keep my distance. I don’t need the details. This is another of the addresses on my list.
*****
Three hours later, it's been an instructive and productive afternoon.
I've followed Wonder Boy thr
