FOR ONCE, FREDDIE TALBOT was at home. He turned out to be quite a natty gent—which explained how he had obtained the 'Fancy' moniker Rita Atkins had given him.
Talbot sported a red silk cravat and a walking stick topped with a rounded ball of what looked like solid silver but was unlikely to be if the rest of the flat was anything to go by. Talbot would surely have pawned it when it became clear that Amelia Frobisher had cast him off for good and he would have to fund his own good life in future.
As he led the way from the front door into his living room, he used the walking stick more to jab emphasis into his conversation than help him get about after the fall he told them he had suffered earlier in the week. God, the man could talk. All Rafferty had managed to do so far was to introduc
