The Judas Pair

'Was he at the Field sale you've been on about?'

'Yes.'

'He may have nothing to do with it.'

'And again,' I said coldly, 'he may.'

For the next few minutes Jane quizzed me. I told her the whole story including the turnkey bit while she listened intently.

'Have you anything practical to go on?' she demanded. 'So you found a posh screwdriver—big deal.'

'Yes,' I said after a minute, 'there is something.'

'What?'

'God knows.' A few people drifted out of the doors across the way. It would end in five minutes. 'I couldn't sleep last night for worrying. The answer's been given me, here in my hand, and for the life of me I can't think what makes me think so. I'd know who it is, but the bits of my mind won't connect.'

'From Seddon's?'

'I feel helpless. I just can't think.'

'Give it up, Lovejoy.' She was less forbidding than I remembered. 'It'll ruin you.'

'I might.' And I almost believed me, except that Watson came out of the auctioneer's that instant. I was up and out into the road darting between cars before I knew where I was.

He waited, casually looking through the window at a set of old seaside lantern slides that had gone dirt cheap. There's quite a market for them nowadays. It was decimalization that did it.

'Mr. Watson.' We stood together, me somewhat breathless and aggressive, him a little reserved.

'Mr. Lovejoy.'

'Right.'

He smiled hesitantly. 'I admired your, er, act with the circus crowd.'

'Thanks.'

'Could I ask'—I nodded and he went on—'er, if you, er, were very keen to have that group of portabilia?'

'No,' I snapped.

'I thought not. May I ask then why you bid?'

'Never mind me, comrade,' I said roughly. 'Why did you?'

He was astonished. 'Me? They belonged to my father.'

'Eh?' I was saying as Jane strolled up.

'My brother put them up for sale,' he explained, 'somewhat against my wishes. Why do you want to know?'

'Well done, Lovejoy,' Jane said sarcastically.

'Keep out of it,' I said. 'Why did you go to the Field sale?'

His memory clicked away for a moment, then his brow cleared. 'After that collector was killed, you mean? Oh, the odd item.'

'Never mind what you actually bought. What attracted you there?'

He glanced from Jane to me, but it was no use messing about at this stage.

'He gets like this periodically.' Jane's casual excuse didn't calm me.

'It's my habit,' Watson replied with dignity, 'to do so. It's also my right.'

'I couldn't agree more,' Jane chipped in.

I looked about. People had gathered around. The windows of the auction rooms were full of faces, staring. Cars were slowing to see what the rumpus was about. My old aunts would have called it a 'pavement scene.'

'You're among friends, Lovejoy,' Jane said kindly, and explained to Watson, 'He's not like this normally. He's been under a strain lately, a bereavement, you know.'

Murmurs of sympathy arose from a couple of old dears in the throng who quickly transmuted compassion into reminiscences of similar events in their own past. 'Just like our Nelly's cousin when her Harry was took,' etc., etc.

'Will he be all right?' Watson was asking anxiously of Jane. That more than anything shook me. When people talk over you as if you're not really there, you really might have vanished.

'His car's near here somewhere. Over there.'

Watson and Jane frog-marched me to the Braithwaite. Rage shook me into a sweat, rage at Jane's smooth assumption of power and Watson's obvious concern. If I'd cast him in the role of murderer, why didn't the bastard behave like one?

'You'd better come to my sister's; it's a few miles.' They discussed me while I trembled like a startled horse. My face was in my hands. I could hear their voices but not what they said, so sick did I feel from the stink of the leather upholstery and the extraordinary vertigo which took hold. Jane took my keys and we drove out of Maltan Lees in the wake of Watson's old white Traveller.