I deflated. 'Er, yes. Only temporarily. Some crazy mistake. I want you to tell them that—'
'That you have a job, darling, and are not a vagrant?'
'Yes, that's it!' I cried eagerly. My flight number was blipping on the monitor screen in the corner of the room.
'But, darling. There's this slight matter of those tables, the ones you wrongfully purchased on my account.'
I thought. 'Is there?'
'Yes, darling,' she cooed, sweet as a dove. The police were staring patiently at the ceiling as Adriana went blithely on, 'And I'm in such a mess here. A load of antiques being delivered tomorrow, ready for the new season. Such problems.'
I waited, but so did she. 'So?' I said weakly.
'Well, darling. You know how much more expert you are at this sort of thing…'
I swear there were tears in my eyes as I watched that monitor screen. I tried for a last-ditch stand against the unfairness of all womankind.
'Okay, then. But I want a good rate of pay.'
'You'll work for your keep, Lovejoy.'
I yelped. 'For nothing? I eyed the police, wondering if oppressed antique dealers got a discount from the judges in Rome for murdering their tyrannical employers.'
'You'll receive, shall we say, payment… in kind, Lovejoy.' I could tell the sadistic bitch was falling about with delight at the other end. 'The most intimate kind, of course. In fact, I shall insist on delivering it personally. Think of yourself,' she added sweetly, 'as providing an essential service.'
The captain blew smoke. He slid an employment form across the desk to me in silence.
I read it swiftly, my face red. 'Erm, Adriana.'
'Darling?'
'Listen,' I croaked hopelessly, 'I, er, have this police form to fill in.'
'Do it, dearest. I'll come for you directly.'
'Erm, there's this space. Nature of occupation. I can't write—'
'Hired consort?' She was rolling in the aisles, though her voice was sugar.
'What shall I put?'
There was a pause, then a smile crept back into her voice, and she said, 'I know, Lovejoy. Apprentice.'
I thought, I'll kill her, but said, 'I can't put that. They'll assume—'
'—The truth, Lovejoy?'
The phone went dead, purring anonymity. I looked at the receiver for a long minute before replacing it carefully on its rest. The tannoy announced my Alitalia flight, final call.
'Your elderly aunt is waiting for you outside, signor,' the police captain said. He too was carefully out of smiles. I glanced about, frantic.
The four cops inhaled, ready for the dust-up. Brokenly I thought of Adriana streaking out to collect me, of Anna prowling outside the door. The trouble with women is they win so bloody often.
The captain demanded, 'I take it you are staying a while, signor?'
'Yes, Captain.' Bitterly I pulled the form towards me and wrote Apprentice in the space provided. I said, 'I may not survive, but I'll definitely be staying.'
The End
