Chapter 43

“I see the apple don’t fall far from the tree.”

I made a noncommittal sound and crossed the street.

The Pear and Chestnut was as dim as The Best of Times, but at least it wasn’t dusty. The air was redolent with the odor of spilled beer and cigarette smoke. Since the lunch hour was coming to an end, most of the tables were emptying as workers hurried back to their places of employment. We walked up to the bar, and Bart Freeman ordered us each a pint.

“I’ll get this,” I told him.

“Ta, I’m sure.”

I laid six quid on the counter. “Keep the change.”

“Thanks, mate,” the barman said. He filled the glasses and handed one to Freeman, while I took the other one.

“Let’s take that table in the corner,” Freeman suggested, and once we were settled, he said, “Your uncle was quite the charmer, you know.”

“Was he really?” I raised the glass to my lips, took a swallow, and then licked off the foam mustache.