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long gray whiskers stomped forth. He clearly only expected to find Robert Coterel and his daughter and sputtered upon encountering Crispin and Jack. He recovered and with a hand on the hilt of his sword he pushed his way in and stood toe to toe with Coterel.
    “The time has come for you and your daughter to pack and leave, for I will not tolerate vagrants on my property.”
    “This must be the exacting landlord,” said Crispin. He folded his arms over his chest.
    The man turned, still keeping a hand on the hilt of his weapon. “This is a private affair between me and my tenant.”
    “Your tenant has hired me to find his stolen rent money.”
    The man sneered. “Stolen, eh? Is that what he told you? More likely it was spent on wine, for he dallies more in a tavern than in his shop.”
    Anabel released her father’s arm and grabbed the landlord’s, spinning him. “That is a lie!”
    “Master Coterel,” he said, grabbing her wrist tightly and tossing it away. “Try to control your daughter. It is rumored she is not easily controlled and goes about most freely.”
    She raised a hand to slap his face but Crispin grabbed it in time. He ticked his head at her before letting her go. “I don’t think you want to be doing that,” he told her, backing her away by stepping forward. He faced the landlord and his perpetual sneer. “Sir, you speak too harshly to these people. Insults are not necessary.”
    “I have drunks and whores under my roof. I would rather they were gone.”
    Coterel staggered back and sat heavily in a chair. He seemed a bit wobbly to Crispin. He could not tell if he smelled of wine because of his damnable cold, but perhaps the landlord was right on that score. Still, these people had come to him. There was murder no one wished to contemplate let alone solve, and there was the intense gaze Anabel Coterel directed his way. Her obvious charms were affecting him. The sight of a beautiful woman often did. He swore at himself for what he was about to do.
    Crispin snatched the money pouch from his belt and counted out five pence. Clenching them in his fist he thrust his hand toward the landlord. “Here is your rent money. Take it, you churl.”
    He sputtered again. “What? What are you doing?”
    “I am paying Master Coterel’s rent. Take it before I fling it into your face.”
    The man reddened even further, and he looked first to Coterel and then at Crispin. “This is absurd! You can’t mean to lend this man money. You will lose your funds, for he will never return them.”
    Hadn’t Crispin been in similar straits for years and years? What a pleasure it was to finally be on the other end of it for a change. His lips pulled back in a mockery of a smile. “I said take it or I shall shove it down your throat.” Crispin took a step forward and the man held up his hands in defense. Crispin grabbed one of them and slapped the coins into his palm, closing his fingers over it and shoving his hand away. “You’ve been paid. Now get out.”
    He merely stared but Crispin made a false leap at him and the man turned so swiftly he almost tripped on his cloak. He stumbled once as he made for the door. Safely outside he turned and shook the fist with the coins in it. “Threats! I will see the law on you.”
    “Begone, you tiresome man,” said Crispin, and slammed the door. Very satisfying. He even smiled at Jack, who was looking back at him with an exasperated expression.
    Robert Coterel got unsteadily to his feet, shaking his head. “He is a foul man. But in this instance, at least, he speaks the truth. I am a drunkard.”
    “Father,” said the girl. But she did not contradict him.
    “You know it is true, my dear. But I did not spend our rent on drink. I swear by the Rood I did not.” His glossy eyes looked up at Crispin. “I cannot pay your fee nor return your five pence, sir. You have done a noble thing, but a foolish one, I fear.”
    “Nonsense. You will make it up to me.” He grabbed Jack by the