vital, Gloria. Without you, a lad'll probably die at the hands of a proven murderer.'
'Why am I essential?' She knew I meant Mortimer. 'My antiques?'
I inclined my head indicating Jesson Tethroe and his adherents.
'They're in reserve. You know high society.' I had a hard time getting the rest out. 'And I like you.'
Sir Jesson returned, plonked himself down. 'Problem,' he said grimly. 'Some bounder's woman came with a dress above her knees, what? Trouble is, now ladies are actually allowed to row!'
I gasped. 'Honestly?' I'd landed in some time warp.
'Good God, man, we'll be having commercial sponsors giving us money next!' He became apoplectic at the thought. 'Folk who want scruffy standards should go to scruffy places - like Wimbledon, or the Derby.'
'Lovejoy has a scheme he wants to discuss, Jesson.'
His eyes narrowed, he swilled his drink. I hadn't touched my glass.
'I'm afraid it concerns money, Jesson,' I confessed, reluctant. 'Rather sordid, I'm afraid.
Commercial. Nothing to do with rowing, sculls, Henley.'
'Above board, though, is it?'
'Hundred per cent,' I said, avoiding Gloria's eye. 'It's just that the commercial side is somewhat traditionalist. They only wish to do business with gentry.' I shrugged. 'My firm isn't well connected. If only we had a gentleman in high public esteem.'
The rest can go unspoken, if that's all right. An ingrate's lot is not a happy one. I toadied, hinted, all for the very best motives of decency and patriotism. Forty minutes later, he agreed.
As I said goodbye, I arranged to meet Gloria next day and start the game. Sir Jesson we left by the river talking to pals.
'Buy him a new tie if we succeed,' I joked.
'Lovejoy.' She was laughing inside. I could tell. 'The mark of distinction here is an old tie with its blue faded to grey. Eton.'
'Just joking,' I lied lamely.
She looked worried. 'Will it be as horrid as you said, Lovejoy?'
'Worse, luv.' I bussed her and left.
They caught me at the gate and made me give the blazer and tie back. No class, some people. To arms.
30
THE WAR BEGAN, like all wars, with a series of blunders. First I went to Shar's office to sign a few papers, keep Law from interrupting. Shar was definitely cool, made sharp comments about Lydia. I pretended Lydia and me were just bad friends.
'You realize what these mean, Lovejoy?' she preached, no smiles.
'I've to behave, and leave Holloway University alone.'
'Also?'
'Pay you your exorbitant fees?'
She had the grace to redden. 'And avoid trouble forever. That means steer clear of forgery, murder, and—'
'Wild, wild women?' Easier said than done.
Gluck's shop was being redecorated, painters outside dolling it up. Not entirely destitute, then. He was inside talking to the lovely Moiya, now permanently on his team. She gave me a cool appraising look and melted away.
'Mr Gluck?' I was humble.
'What the hell are you doing here?' He frogmarched me to the door and thrust me into the street.
'I want you to visit Dulwich Picture Gallery, Mr Gluck. We've to make arrangements—'
'I said contact me on my mobile, dumbhead.'
The door slammed, leaving me on the pavement. The decorating men laughed on their ladders.
'Worth a try, mate,' one called. 'That bird's a blinder.'
Meaning Moiya. Trout joined me heading for the Tube. The ticket barriers always remind me of sheep-dips.
'Get it?' I asked, anxious.
He carried a camcorder. 'Yes. You look rotten on film, Lovejoy. I posted the tape to Lydia's address like she said.'
'We'll start now, then. Where are we?'
'Tinker's at the Camden Passage pub. Sorbo's waiting in Portobello antique market.
Here's their mobile phone numbers.'
'Well done, Trout.' I hesitated, worried. 'Here, mate. Who's the one of us most likely to be duff?' I meant traitor, but couldn't get it out.
'Lydia,' he appalled me by saying. 'Sorry, Lovejoy. Seeing you're crazy about her.' We got shoved apart by
