They watched the big man come out of the pay booth and go over to speak to the messenger at the door.
The messenger looked startled as Ken saw the big man show him something he carried in his hand. They talked for some minutes, then the big man turned and stared directly at Ken.
Ken felt himself turn hot, then cold. He forced himself to continue to write in his ledger.
“He’s coming over,” Parker said softly.
The big man came up to the counter and his hard eyes went from Parker to Ken and back to Parker again.
“City Police. Sergeant Donovan,” he said, his voice a harsh growl. “I’m making enquiries about a guy who used that pay booth about a half-hour ago. Did either of you see him?”
Ken looked at the hard, brick-red face. Donovan wore a close-clipped ginger moustache. A row of freckles ran across the bridge of his thick, short nose.
“No, I didn’t see anyone,” Ken said.
“I used the telephone a little while ago, sergeant,” Parker said smoothly. “I was calling my wife. You don’t mean me, do you?”
Donovan stared at Parker.