Fin snorted. He pulled his handkerchief from his pocket, coughed into it and fumbled returning it. "Damn," he said as it floated down to the floor. He scooped it up, coughed again and returned it to his pocket, feeling the little angular lump that was a shard of the broken concrete.
There was one way of finding out who the man was and why he had died and Fin might or might not try it. It depended on what the police found.
And on whether he felt it warranted the risk.
"Come on," he suggested to Andras and Cindy. "Let's get out into the air. There's no need to stay down here. That poor guy's not going anywhere."