warned. I put on a show of buying a few things—staples, resin, electric torch, stout twine, wood stain—and asked about the lumberman.
“Why, ye stupid man!” she exclaimed, clearly glad to be on safe ground. “He’s at the pier loading his uncle’s boat.”
“Wrong, Innes. There’s only Jamie there.” I’d looked towards the water as I’d left the tavern. He’d been loading a small motor ketch, the only activity.
“Aye. It’s him.”
“Jamie owns the lumberyard?” The only supplier of obsolescent furniture, the antique faker’s raw material, was Shona McGunn’s Jamie. My brain sighed an exhausted sigh.
“Of course, Ian. Didn’t Mary McGunn tell ye that?”
“Mary McGunn?” I only knew one Mary in Dubneath.
“Mary MacNeish.” Mrs. Innes was bagging up black currants. Her eyes held mine. It’s the best I can do, her careful gaze said, as she joked, “You McGunns are all too wrapped up in your silly selves…”
“Will ye no be resenting that slur from an Innes, Ian?” Shona came in the shop doorway behind me, smiling, her great dog beside her. It was enormous with the light behind it. “The Inneses are great misjudgers.”
“Glad you came, Beautiful,” I said, joining the spirit of the thing. “While Jamie’s busy, have we got time to sneak off?”
Shona laughed. Ranter grinned. “For coffee, Ian?”
“I’ve had nothing all morning.”
“Oooh, the lies in the man!” Mrs. Innes exclaimed after us. “He’s full of Mary’s cooking!”
My least favorite headache returned as I walked along the narrow pavement with Shona and her pooch. It comes from fear, which is generated by a terrible realization of ignorance. Mrs. Innes had tried a second time to warn me, in her way. I’d just been too slow to appreciate it. There was only one ally left, and that was Shona. After all, I thought, glancing sideways at her lovely bright face, she was the one who’d brought me up here. She alone knew who I was, and kept the secret. She alone had promised me a fair share. And she alone was on my side, however erratic her personality. This clan-loyalty business could surely be safely forgotten, except among the elderly gossipmongers of Dubneath.
I’d only been allowed back into town when Shona was free. I must have accidentally slipped her by alighting on the outskirts instead of being fetched directly into Dubneath’s center. She must have gone hunting me when she realized I’d gone missing. Still, an ally is an ally. I wanted to get Tinker because I badly needed things done. In the meantime I’d have to rely on the one natural asset we all possess. Perfidy.
“Darling,” I said at her gate. “Won’t the neighbors talk?”
“No,” she said evenly, “providing you’re quiet.”
Ranter came in and watched me make myself at home, as the saying is. It was quite unnerving. As matters progressed from the possible to the inevitable, I had to ask Shona to send the dog out. Amused, Shona compromised by ordering it into the little front garden, and led me upstairs after latching the door. After that it was all smooth sailing. If my brain had been functioning, I’d have still talked myself into making love to Shona on the grounds that the worst I could expect was betrayal. After some of the women I’ve known, it would be a small price. I’m fully trained in disaster. As it was, my intellect had hibernated at the first hint of forthcoming ecstasy. I don’t know how sociologists manage all that dispassion they brag about. Women only make me think hooray. With my own brand of logic going full steam, the mere act of lying dazed and sweat-stuck to Shona afterwards was somehow proof that we were more fervent allies than ever.
“Who’s the crook, love?” I said, drifting from oblivion to somnolence. Women are always awake when I come to. How do they do it?
“That’s my question, Lovejoy.” She lay aside, somehow. The pillow had fluffed up between us, making it hard to breathe.
“It’s not Elaine, that’s for sure. Nor Duncan. He’s a naturally nice bloke.”
“Is he a good… antiques faker?”
“Not bad. Certainly not in the same league as some.”
“Michelle?” Her voice was in exact neutral, oho.
“Your pal?” I was unsure. Michelle was one of those lovely succulent women who should be eaten whole with mint. I’ve always been vulnerable. “Dunno. What’s her motive? Money?”
“That. And Elaine.” Shona’s hatred showed now. Her throat thickened. “Michelle’s an intruder. A spider. She’ll take anything she can. Men are blind, Lovejoy.”
“Oh aye,” I said dryly. Fascism gets everywhere, even into lovers’ beds. “So Michelle and Duncan are your guess. Not Robert?”
She still spoke muffled. “Robert does as he’s told.”
“Which leaves Hector, but he’s too busy with his dogs and sheep. And Jamie. Lucky that he runs the wood yard, eh?”
“Essential.”
There are two sorts of pests: Women who never leave you alone after loving, forever inspecting your morphology and asking questions, and women who mentally move out and lie there, eyes closed, disowning the nerk they’ve drained to exhaustion. Shona was clearly of the second category, hunched away in the bed, making me feel a right hitchhiker.
“Look, Shona.” I pulled her over to face me. “Michelle couldn’t pull a scam on her own.
Duncan knows so little about the antiques game that he doesn’t even suss out alternative routes, different fences. He’s a craftsman, but no crook.”
