Free The School of English Murder by Ruth Dudley Edwards

those poor buggers. Anyway, it’s somewhere to put Ned. He wouldn’t exactly shine as a BP escort.’
    ‘So what’s the escort talent like?’
    ‘Ah, well that’s why I came at the right time. Rich has been feeling overwhelmed at the demands on him. He says he’s OK on the distaff side. Apparently Cath is brilliant and Jenn OK. He keeps her away from the choosey ones, but she goes down particularly well with Arabs. However he’s suffering from a shortage of men, exacerbated by the preponderance of women among the students. Gavs is gay, which limits his appeal a trifle, and anyway his domestic partner is getting possessive and wants him to move to a job with less anti-social hours. Rich said he was resigned to struggling on alone until he could recruit and train someone suitable. He hadn’t spotted my potential. However, I am now officially declared a natural who can go on parade immediately.’
    ‘So you’re in.’
    ‘As of tomorrow. He’s bringing in a couple of part-timers to take on prefab duty. I’m afraid Ned’ll be disappointed. He had aspirations to make a dedicated teacher of me.’
    ‘Never mind Ned. Congratulations. Now did you pick up anything about Wally?’
    ‘Only very vaguely. Rich mentioned with a sigh that he was plagued by people who thought themselves suitable for dealing with the BPs. Said it was very hard to tell someone he lacked charm.’
    ‘Do I detect you’re warming to Rich?’
    ‘Well, I disliked him so much at the start I could scarcely cool. Let’s just say I’m developing a grudging admiration for him. I imagine he’s an amoral little shit, but he does work hard and when he drops the asshole façade, it’s possible to have sensible dealings with him.’
    ‘Is he a murderer?’
    ‘God knows,’ said Amiss. ‘Now let’s get back to raiding your wardrobe. I’ve got to get some sleep. Apparently I’m doing a full day’s conversation, punctuated by lunch at the Tate to introduce them to its marvellous wine list and then in the evening we’re off to a West End musical followed by a late supper.’
    ‘Salary?’
    ‘It’s doubled, which helps. There’s also a substantial clothes allowance, and of course all expenses are paid. And after six months I can come in on a profit sharing scheme.’
    ‘Robert, you haven’t forgotten why you’re at the school?’
    ‘No Ellis. I’m there to find out if Wally Armstrong was murdered and to help keep Ned alive. Really, how absent-minded do you think I am?’
    ‘Just checking. Here, try this Burberry.’
    However, it was too late to save Ned, who had been knocked off his bike at Hyde Park Corner at seven thirty that evening. The driver whose lorry had killed him swore Ned had ridden into the roundabout right under his wheels. Two independent witnesses corroborated his story. Amiss heard the news with a heavy heart and an indefinable sense of guilt. But the only one to weep for Ned was Rich, who had to identify him at the morgue, where he sobbed so hysterically that they sent for a doctor to sedate him.

----
    11
    « ^ »
    Pooley spent the morning at a resources allocation meeting of unbelievable tedium. What made it worse was that as senior inspector, Romford was in the chair, standing in for Milton. Pooley suffered, perforce in silence and impassively, as Romford held things up with pedantic interventions and irritating objections, looked outraged when anyone uttered the mildest expletive and when in repose exuded that moral complacency that made him so universally unpopular.
    ‘Now, in conclusion, I have an announcement to make. I’m being transferred to Stolen Vehicles. Next week will be my last here.’ Grunts and mutters of the ohsirwe’llmissyou variety ensued; Romford reciprocated ponderously, declared the meeting closed and led the way out of the room. Pooley and WDC Simon, left to clear up, danced a jig: it was a moment too deep for words.
    His mood was shattered by Amiss’s lunchtime phone call; his distress was