Fred Linacre was already standing at the bar. It was a week since he’d taken Trixie along to his house and since then neither of them had spoken a word about it. ‘Another pint?’ Sam’s voice was terse, a clear sign that he was on edge. Fred Linacre turned and nodded, picked up his tankard, drained it, and held it out. Sam pushed it across the counter towards the waiting barmaid who had put his beer in front of him. ‘Fill that up again,’ he ordered and counted out the additional money to pay for it. ‘Shall we go and sit over in the corner, Fred?’ he suggested when she’d pulled another pint and passed it across the counter. ‘There’re one or two things I want to ask you.’ ‘I thought there might be,’ Fred answered laconically as he led the way. ‘Well?’ Sam asked as he set his glass on the table and sat down. ‘What’s the news? Has she settled in without causing any trouble?’ Fred took a long noisy swig of his beer, put his tankard down, and wiped the back of his hand across his mouth to remove the froth.
