Read Online Enter Pale Death by Barbara Cleverly - Free Book Online Page B

road,” Joe reckoned, a calculating stare convincing him that the drawing (on the back of a menu) was the work of Lauder himself. He’d signed it and smudged the brown whisky ring with his sleeve.
    On the wall over the fireplace, in pride of place, was a framed maxim executed in superb calligraphy in gold letters.
Fit in dominatu servitus
in servitute dominatus. Cicero .
    Joe translated freely for himself: “In every master there is a servant; in every servant, a master.” Some sort of nod to the name of this pub, he supposed, and wondered from what or from whom the eponymous Footman was, by tradition, fleeing. Content with his surroundings, he sighed with satisfaction and raised his glass to his companion. “Your good health!” he said. “We’ve earned this!”
    Both men sank half their beer in contemplative silence. Joejudged the moment to say, “Thank you for your support back there in the sale-room, Hunnyton. That unscripted display of disgust was very convincing—and unexpected. But you were going to tell me how—”
    “No. You have the advantage. I’ll humour you. I’ll let you tell me how you guessed. Was it the size twelves? Flattened by a year of pounding the streets?”
    “That, yes … But you recognised my uniform and addressed me correctly by rank. I don’t think anyone outside the force could do that with conviction. It was your name, though, that told me who you were. Not surprisingly. It’s unusual. It’s the name of an officer of a County Constabulary who has recently made enquiries of the art crimes section at the Yard. They keep extensive and meticulous records down there in the basement. And I do my homework! Your name came up an hour ago. I love what some call ‘coincidences,’ don’t you?”
    “I share your scepticism, Commissioner. I’m Superintendent Hunnyton, Cambridgeshire CID, and I’m very pleased to meet you. And entertained! I must say, I thought I’d blow a gasket when you winkled Audley out of his sleek shell. I’ve never encountered anyone actually stamping a foot outside of a romantic novel, but he did it! Well, it was more like a petulant tap of his little patent-leather-shod toe, if I’m being honest. It’ll be all round the coffee-houses by now.”
    “Oh, dear. Yes, I regret upsetting the man. A manipulative, plausible rogue as all will tell you but he’s very good at his job and I admire him. He’s always dealt straight with me.” Joe sighed. “Fences to mend there, I’m afraid. I feel especially guilty since my interest in the affair of the portraits, I’ll confess, is peripheral. It’s certainly not professional and it’s not even personal to me. I’m just acting as agent on behalf of a …” Joe paused. What the hell was the minister to him? “An acquaintance,” he finished lamely.
    Hunnyton grinned. “Truelove ensnares everyone unless they’refast on their feet. Will he care if he’s curdled your relationship with Audley? Not in the slightest! Get your long spoon out if you’re supping with him , sir.” Correctly reading Joe’s astonished expression, he went on: “He’s using you to get hold of them for him on the quiet, isn’t he? Having scared the opposition off first.” He began to laugh. “Clever bastard,” he added genially. “How high are you instructed to go?”
    “A hundred was suggested. Though he did say I could use my experience and judgement to exceed that if I scented victory.”
    “He certainly trusts you, then? I can’t think of anyone I’d send into a saleroom for me with an open chequebook. What hold has he got on you?” And, to soften the boldness, a hurried and embarrassed: “Look here, Sandilands—sir—if there’s anything I can do … Forgive me—you don’t seem entirely at ease with all this. I’m a useful pair of hands and perhaps we coppers should stick together in the face of exploitation. Just say the word.”
    Joe smiled back over his glass at the troubled eyes and the leathery knuckles