Free Enter Pale Death by Barbara Cleverly

nervously swiping a springy quiff of hair from his forehead, glad that the mask was off and that he liked the bluff countryman’s face beneath it. “The word is ‘thanks!’ But sadly, swiftly followed by ‘no thanks,’ Hunnyton. A hold, you say? My instinct is to splutter into my ale and deny he has any such thing. But the fellow is likely to take over the Home Office before we’re much older and by that, become my boss.” Hunnyton gave a sympathetic growl and Joe ventured to say, “Your boss, too. Apart from the political power, he holds the financial strings that the girl I love dangles from and he pipes the tunes she dances to. The Truelove Foundation sponsors research in her department at the university. The man has a scientific interest. He rolls up his sleeves and involves himself at the laboratory level. They work well—and all too frequently—together. He fancies his chances—she rebuffs him in a good-humoured way from time to time.” Joe fell silent. This was a confidence too far.He blamed the draught of excellent ale on an empty stomach and the sympathetic understanding of a stranger. All the same—loose words.
    “Gawd! It’s worse than I thought. Would you like me to push him under a bus for you?”
    Joe laughed, glad of the invitation to make light of his confession and he replied in kind: “Don’t you worry! I have several trained killers on the books who might oblige. I’m sorry to ruin your chances of possessing the miniatures but at least they’ll be ‘going home’ as you said they ought. To Truelove’s place in Suffolk. He has an ancestral home out there—not so very far from Cambridge. I expect you know it?”
    Hunnyton nodded.
    “A good and right outcome, I think you’d say?”
    “Yes. None better,” Hunnyton agreed. “If that’s really where they’re going,” he added mysteriously.
    They came to the end of their pints at the same moment and Joe prepared to take his leave. They solemnly exchanged cards, promising to be on hand for each other in any future emergency. Joe thanked Hunnyton for his hospitality and declared a polite intention to visit the pub again and stand his round.
    “Ah. Might be some difficulty there, sir,” the superintendent murmured as he handed Joe his hat. “You see, it’s more of a club here. You have to be a member to buy the drinks. It’s the headquarters of the Federation of Domestic Servants—the ‘Narcissus Club,’ as it’s known. Named for the Narcissus who was slave, secretary and later freedman to the Emperor Claudius. He ran the Roman Empire in the name of his old master for many a year. Not to be confused with the self-regarding youth of legend who liked to peer into pools. Membership is granted to anyone of the rank of senior footman or above. And, of course, you have to have been in service in the family of a gentleman for a minimum of five years.”
    “Good Lord!” Joe said. “There are some strange establishments flourishing within the douce confines of St. James’s!”
    “This is a long way from being the strangest! Have you enquired into the ‘Slippered Orchid’ four doors down?” He shook his shaggy head in disapproval.
    “Can’t wait! Well, it was a pleasure, Superintendent. See you at the sale tomorrow perhaps? It should be quite safe. I don’t think the Minister for Mischief will be making an appearance himself. Have you met the devilish Truelove? Do you know him?”
    “I wondered when you’d ask me that.” Hunnyton began to turn the brim of his bowler through his fingers, deep in thought. Joe didn’t press for a response but let him take his time, mindful that people were very much divided in their opinions of the minister and quite often took a while to think of something polite to say. “I can’t say that I know him. Though I certainly ought to. The man’s my brother.”
    “Your what ?” Startled, Joe dropped his fedora to the ground.
    “My younger brother. Half-brother to be precise.”
    Joe snorted,