'That plump nurse'll hose Dandy down a bit, eh?' I chuckled.
'Lovejoy,' Lily said carefully. 'I don't know if Dandy's going to be, well, all right.'
'Not get better? Dandy Jack?' I smiled at that. 'He's tough as old boots. He'll make it.
Did the Old Bill catch the maniac?'
'Not yet.' Her voice lowered. 'They're saying in the Arcade it looked like -'
'If it was Rink he'll have a hundred alibis.'
The interlude done with, Lily turned to her own greatest problem, who was now lecturing Ted on lipstick. ('That orange range is such a poxy risk, Teddie dear!')
'What am I doing to go, Lovejoy?'
'Give him the sailor's elbow,' I advised.
She gazed at Patrick's blue rinse with endearment. Patrick glanced over, saw us and coo-eed extravagantly.
'Do you like it, Lovejoy?' he shrieked, waggling his fingers.
'Er…?'
'The new nail varnish, dear! Mauve!' He emitted an outraged yelp and turned away.
'Oh, isn't he positively moronic?'
'Would you speak to him, Lovejoy?' Lily begged. She'd made sure nobody was in earshot. 'He treats me like dirt.'
'Chuck him, love.'
'He admires you. He'd listen. He says you're the only proper dealer we've got.'
'That's a laugh.'
'It's true,' she said earnestly. 'He's even been trying to help you. He's been making enquiries about Bexon all afternoon.'
'Eh?'
'For you, Lovejoy.' Lily smiled fondly in Patrick's direction. 'Even though there's nothing in it for him. He went down to Gimbert's.' The auction rooms where Bexon's belongings went. 'One day he'll realize I love him -'
'Does your husband know?' I asked, thinking, since when does an antique dealer do anything for nothing? Even one like Patrick. He used to deal in goldsmithy till that gold price business ten years ago, antique gold.
'Not yet,' she admitted. 'When I'm sure of Patrick I'll explain. He'll understand.'
'It's more than I do,' I said. 'Look, love. Can't you see that Patrick's - er -?'
'It's a phase,' she countered. 'Only a phase.'
Jill Jenkins made her entrance, a nimble fortyish. She's mediaeval, early mechanicals, toys, manuscripts and dress items. I like her because she's good, really as expert as any dealer we have locally. Not a divvie, just an expert. I'd never seen her boy-friend before, but then I'd never seen any of Jill's boy-friends before. They all look the same to me. Only the names change, about once every twelve hours. Tinker Dill once told me he can tell the new ones by their ear lobes. Jill picks them up on the harbour wharf.
Our port can just about keep pace with Jill's appetite as long as one of our estuary fogs doesn't hold the ships up. Her husband has this farm in Stirling, very big on agriculture.
Well, whatever turns you on, but there are some rum marital arrangements about these days.
'Lovejoy! My poppet!' I got a yard of rubberoid lips and a waft of expensive perfume.
'And Lily too! How nice!' she added absently, glancing round with the occasional yoo-hoo and finger flutter.
'Hiyer, Jill.'
'This is…' she started an introduction. 'What is it, darling?'
'Richard,' the lad said. 'Rum and blackcurrant.'
'Richard,' Jill said, pleased somebody had remembered. 'That's it. He's left his boat down in the water.'
'How very wise,' Lily said sweetly, moving away. 'Now he'll know where to find it, won't he?'
'Ship,' Richard said sourly. 'Not boat. Ship.'
'I hear,' Jill said, taking my arm and coming too close, 'Lovejoy's roamin' after Roman.'
She has a beautiful Egyptian scarab brooch, genuine. My bell clamoured.
'Roman stuff?' I said calmly. 'Whoever told you that?'
'Big Frank,' she admitted, not batting any one of her false eyelashes. 'And that whore Jenny Bateman.' She caught Jenny's eye the same instant and trilled a greeting through the saloon. The Batemans waved.
Ted fetched Richard's drink. Jill always has ginger wine. They allow Jill's drinks on the slate. For some reason they don't trust the rest of us.
'Lily just said that,' I said. 'Funny how things get about.'
'Any special Roman stuff, dear?'
'Must have been a misunderstanding, Jill,' I replied. I was distinctly uncomfortable.
