void, and another bird would make it. I missed successfully, every time.
They'd put muffs on me so I could only hear the distant thump of the gun as it cracked my shoulder. Once, taking the reloaded gun from Mort, I saw the dog, Jasper. It was gaping at me with utter disbelief, obviously thinking, God, expert shooters everywhere and I draw this nerk. I gave it a wink. It turned aside in disgust, watching its mates jauntily bringing back dead birds, tails wagging. You can't win. Save a duck, you get ballocked by a hound.
The slaughter ended. I was worn out, my shoulder creaking. I handed the gun to Mort.
He took it without a word, started stowing things in satchels.
'Good day's work, eh?' I tried not to sound appalled. Jasper sneered.
'Thank you, Lovejoy,' Mort said quietly.
'Sorry, old chap,' Colonel Humbert bawled in sympathy. 'Did warn you, what? Under-and-overs! Direction!'
'Should have listened to you, sir.'
He chuckled. I looked for the estate cars. None.
'It's lunch, Lovejoy,' Mort said. 'You go again, across the heath.'
'Right!' I said heartily, concealing my groan. 'Looking forward to it!'
The nosh they provided was superb, hampers of exotic food. I spoke with Mrs Dee, having checked that Mr Dee wasn't here.
'Don't worry. I shan't study your paintings.' Artists hate ramblers peering over their shoulder.
She laughed. 'You paint too, Lovejoy.' And answered my unspoken question, 'Sir Jesson told me. He's a collector.'
'You meant warned.' Was she a special friend of the scandal-riddled parliamentarian?
'Yes, warned.' She was amused.
'You're not using acrylics?' I asked in mock horror, looking at the peeling cerulean blue on her fingers.
'As a matter of fact I am.'
'Then the deal's off, love.' I returned to the trenches, her laughter following.
I won't go into details about that day of carnage. I finally reeled away sickened. I didn't harm a single thing, thanks to Mort. He had a series of cunning hoots and shrill keenings that somehow diverted birds from their flight paths away from the shooters.
Even so, our scattered lead shot will pollute the earth for the next frigging millennium.
God help us, we're a rotten lot.
Teatime. I changed back, getting a mouthful of astonishment at my fashion style from Fleury La Ney. I liked her, though. She wore a ton of makeup, thick mascara, rouge, dense eye-liner, plastered lipstick, blusher inches thick, so she was class even for a Sloanie. I noticed Gloria Dee sitting with Sir Jesson Tethroe. They looked a pair - item, do they say now? I caught her glance when Sir Jesson asked about me. Fine. They'd see me soon enough. They didn't know it yet but they were on my team.
I spoke a bit with Clovis and Maeve Patterson. She was lively, fifties, stridey, endlessly on about horses. I sensed a looming invitation to come riding, and quickly told her I was allergic. She had fishing rights along the river almost all the way to the estuary. I thought, hey, any canals? I spoke sadly of some bloke I used to know nearby called Arthur Goldhorn. It turned out she'd known him.
'Poor man,' she said. 'Born loser, Arthur. He tried riding point-to-point at Marks Tey, fell off. That cow Colette's gone to the dogs. Lost everything except the tide, over some loony investment in London.'
'Haven't they a son?' I asked, thinking, title?
'A token yokel, hardly literate, lives wild. Does odd jobs. Shouldn't be allowed, I say.
You'd think the social services'd do something, instead of bugger all.'
It's always a shock to hear a lady swear, but I agreed on principle.
'Heart attack,' my other cultivar, Talleyton, cut in. 'Arthur get any further with that canal thing, Maeve?'
'No. He invented that magnet. I couldn't see what the canal hold-up was. Mind you,'
Maeve added, lowering her voice so we drew in close not to miss a whiff of scandal,
'Colette went mental over some local antique dealer. Queer fish with an odd name. I always think the woman should control sex, don't you?'
My throat thickened. How long had it been since me and Colette made smiles? Years. I put in quickly, 'What canal thing?'
'Goldhorn owned Saffron Fields. Has an extinct canal. The inland length is all right, but it's a mess further down. Arthur had the idea of linking it with the estuary. It would join the North Sea to the Lake District.'
'Good idea,' I said, smiling, still working out how long it had been since I'd known Colette. But the canal story seemed reliable enough.
Before leaving, I thanked Clovis for his hospitality. He said he was glad I'd enjoyed it.
'You were popular, Lovejoy,' he said, accompanying me to the hall. 'I noticed Gloria Dee and Sir Jesson giving you their cards. And Maeve and Bert Talleyton. So you're interested in canal engineering! It's his speciality. He does the Leicester Loop, you know. Pity you shot a zero. I'll tell Caprice you bagged a dozen, shall I?'
'Clovis,' I said with feeling, 'you're a gent.'
Outside I walked off, ready to start thumbing a lift. Mort suddenly fell in with me, coming from nowhere. The
