surrounded. Sirens were going, car doors slamming. Now it was all done for them.
Typical.
CHAPTER 28
No airport's pretty.
They gave me my green boarding-card after an hour's wait. It's always a relief because it means you are going to get aboard and some other poor nerk's going to be left behind. The passengers I was with were a cheerful, talkative crowd. I sat to one side trying not to remember the inquest, the harsh post-mortem evidence given over the verdict on my lovely Maria and on Menotti, her murderous lover. In the official hearing I had been gently reproved by Cardinal Arcellano for calling Menotti 'Arcellano', but explained I'd known him by no other name. The Cardinal was a quiet little bloke with a mind like a computer. He'd been understanding, even compassionate, when I'd given evidence about the killer Menotti's attempt to finish me. On the way out of the hearing I'd tried to avoid saying a farewell. He got in my way and told me he'd pray for my peace of mind. I'd said thanks and passed on by. I don't know what people are on about half the time.
'Signor Lovejoy?' An air-terminal policeman stood there, all phoney boredom.
'Yes?'
'Would you come this way, please.'
'But my flight's nearly called—'
'Only a moment, signor.'
Obviously a slight passport difficulty, easily resolved. I got my bag and followed him to the manager's office, trying to exude a sense of confidence towards the other passengers. I even swaggered, for show.
There were four policemen in the office, including a captain. He had his thumbs in his belt.
'You are Lovejoy?'
'Yes. If it's this passport, I can explain…'
'You know this old lady?'
A photo of Anna in her pickpocketing clobber. 'Yes.'
'Your aunt, I believe?'
I thought swiftly. 'Er, not exactly. You see—'
'You lodge at this address with her?'
'Well, er…' The signature on the form was oddly familiar. It was my handwriting. That time Anna got nicked by the Via Porto Angelica. No wonder two of these cops looked familiar. The two in the car, who'd made me sign to get Anna off the hook.
'Yes or no, signor?' That phoney boredom again. I'd rather have hate. It's safer. 'And this is your signature?'
I swallowed, took a chance. 'Well, yes.'
'You went surety for this old lady?'
'Not really,' I burbled. 'It wasn't meant to be taken seriously—'
'You signed a police form frivolously? The officer swelled ominously. 'Intending to default, slip the country, leaving your aged aunt—?'
I said desperately, 'She's only twenty-odd, for Christ's sake. It's all make-up—'
He smiled a wintry smile. 'She told us to expect all sorts of ludicrous explanations, signor.' He dropped another photograph on the desk. 'You recognize this antique shop?'
'Yes. It's…' I hesitated. My job there was illegal. No work permit.
'Albanese Antiques Emporium, signor?'
'Yes.' I had a headache. It worsened abruptly as he reached for the phone and dialled without looking the number up.
The police stood about with the terrible patience of their kind. I noticed two were now between me and the door.
'Pronto, signora! Yes, we have him… At the airport.' He listened attentively, full of importance. 'Yes, signora.' He turned, placing the receiver on his chest in token of confidentiality. 'Signor Lovejoy. You are in default of a contract of employment with Signora Albanese, no?'
'No!' I cried desperately. My bloody flight number was being announced. 'Listen! I never had any legal… er…'
The captain's eyebrows rose in mild surprise. 'You are saying, signor?'
'Erm…' Adriana had me either way.
'Having given surety for a vagrant,' the captain said affably, 'without gainful employment?'
'No.'
'Then you've defaulted, signor.' He lit a cigar one-handed. It was clearly his trick. Carlo should have seen him.
'Let me speak to her.' Furious, I snatched the receiver from him. 'Adriana? Now you look here! This is Lovejoy —'
'Hello, darling.' She sounded quite pleasant, even chatty. 'Speaking from police custody, I believe.'
