A Murder on London Bridge by Susanna Gregory

changed the subject before they could argue; he did not want to lose one of his few friends to a petty quarrel, and Bulteel was a very good cook. ‘Is this all that has annoyed the Earl this morning? The Dowager poaching the King’s Private Musick?’
    ‘No. He is also vexed with you for letting that iconoclast die. The body has been taken to the Westminster charnel house, by the way. I doubt it will yield much in the way of clues, but you had better inspect it, anyway. Surgeon Wiseman has been instructed to do the same.’
    Chaloner did not think that was necessary. ‘I saw Culmer stabbed. An examination is unlikely to yield anything useful, so tell Wiseman not to waste his—’
    ‘I shall do no such thing! Besides, he will do as the Earl asks, because he is obedient. I advise you to be the same – work started on the Earl’s fine new mansion over in Piccadilly last week, and it is transpiring to be more expensive than he anticipated.’
    ‘So?’ asked Chaloner, failing to see the connection.
    ‘So he will be looking to make cuts among his staff to finance it. And he will pay above the odds for Clarendon House to be finished as soon as possible, because he hates his current residence with a passion. And who can blame him? It does stand next door to the Dowager’s lair.’
    ‘Clarendon House!’ spat Chaloner in disgust. ‘It is too grand, and will make him unpopular. And so will his rigid stance on any form of religion that is not devised by Anglican bishops—’
    ‘Hush!’ hissed Bulteel, looking around in alarm. ‘He will hear you.’
    ‘I wish he would: it might save him from disaster. Incidentally, do you know a man named Phillippes? He is designing some sort of scientific instrument – a tide-ring – for the Earl.’
    Bulteel nodded. ‘He is what is known as a dial-maker, although I cannot say I took to him. Or to his associate, Casper Kaltoff. They came here to discuss measurements and prices, and I suspect they are overcharging the Earl because he does not really understand what a tide-ring does.’
    ‘Then why does he want one?’ asked Chaloner, baffled.
    ‘Because the King has commissioned one, and that means they will soon become fashionable.’
    Chaloner supposed he should not be surprised: appearances were important in Restoration London. ‘What can you tell me about Phillippes and Kaltoff?’
    ‘Not much,’ said Bulteel apologetically. ‘Both are Catholic, and eager to join the Royal Society. Mr Williamson had them investigated when the King began to invite them to his private quarters for scientific chats, but there was no suggestion of anything untoward.’
    Williamson was currently Spymaster General, a sly, aloof man who ran the country’s intelligence network. In an ideal world, Williamson would have recruited Chaloner, and would have been delighted to secure the services of a man who had more than a decade’s experience in espionage. But the reality was that Williamson hated Chaloner, partly because Chaloner had spent most of his adult life employed by Oliver Cromwell’s regime, and partly because he blamed him – unfairly – for the death of a friend.
    ‘How do you know what Williamson’s investigations found?’ Chaloner asked curiously.
    Bulteel shrugged. ‘He told me over dinner last night.’
    ‘You had dinner with Williamson?’ Chaloner was appalled. He could not imagine why a decent, honest man like Bulteel should elect to keep such unsavoury company.
    Bulteel nodded happily. ‘He often talks to me about his work. He talks about you, too.’
    ‘He does?’ Chaloner was acutely uneasy. What game was the Spymaster playing? ‘What does he tell you? His dreams of having me assassinated? We both know he wants me dead.’
    Bulteel looked horrified. ‘No! He would never resort to that sort of thing. At least, not to you.’
    Chaloner regarded him suspiciously. ‘You seem very sure.’
    ‘I am sure. You are aware that he makes me provide him with information about