'Right.'
She sighed as if at some irritating child's foible. I went to see her motor glide off. Alone.
I turned and yelped. Sandy stood there, weeping. Mel stony-faced beside him.
'You stupid burkes!' I yelled. 'You almost scared me to frigging death!'
'We waited in your forgery, Lovejoy.' Mel was furious as usual. It would be about something incomprehensible, as usual. 'Sandy is very upset.'
'Having killed Timothy Giverill?' I said nastily.
Sandy's tears became uncontrollable. Mel was white with rage.
'Lovejoy. Can't you see he's inconsolable?'
'He deserves to be, Mel. And so do you.'
'Lovejoy. I know I've been really careless, stupid.' Sandy plucked at my arm. I shook him off. 'But I've come to try and make it up to you.'
'How? Make up what? I'm still alive. Others aren't.'
'Didn't you know?' he said with sly innocence. 'Alicia Domander was the brigadier's housekeeper. They're off to Spain to live happily ever after. And that wretched mutt.'
'And FeelFree and Horse are gunning for you. And Dennis. And Big Frank from Suffolk.
And Venison. And Roe Johnson—'
'I know, I know.'
'Mortimer's started up again. Divvying for tourists, so we dealers miss out. The dealers are on their way now, Lovejoy.'
'Hell fire.' I thought quickly.
'There's Margaret Dainty, of course.' Mel smiled, hugging himself. He'd be telling me he felt a delicious malice any moment. 'You could stay with your lame friend. Except her husband's home. I feel a delicious malice, Lovejoy.'
'They've already sent two dealers from Saxmundham to stake out Mortimer's hide in the marshes, Lovejoy. So that's out.'
'They're here!' Mel suddenly hissed. I dived into the kitchen alcove and pulled the curtain at the roar of cars.
'God help you if you tell them I'm here, Sandy!'
Not much of a threat. I went quiet. It's movement that's the giveaway, not stillness. I heard people come crashing to the door, somebody kicking it.
'It's only little me in here!' Sandy trilled. 'I'm waiting for Lovejoy. I've got six warrants here for his arrest.'
I thought, Sandy has six warrants?
'Listen, Sandy.' This was Smarts, he of the Victorian jewellery. I wondered what stupid things he'd be wearing, his head fronded with tiaras and earrings. I could hear him cling and tinkle like a Christmas tree in the wind. 'Tell us where the bugger is. Je morteray il, if I catch the sod.' Still trying to be French.
'I want him dead,' Jenny Blondel said. I just hoped she hadn't brought her erstwhile spouse Paul with his great hunting birds.
'Me too.' Aspirin, her bloke. 'I've lost two thousand from that Mortimer.'
Did you now, I thought coldly. I'll see you lose a deal more when I get out of this, mate. Even if you can do handstands.
'Find him for us, Sandy,' Willie Lott said. I went colder still.
'Do it fast, honey,' Jessica added.
The gang's all here, I thought in fright. They left slowly after sundry additional warnings. Car doors slammed. Engines started.
Silence. I waited until the curtain was lifted. Sandy stood there. He couldn't raise a sincere smile if he was paid.
'Well, Lovejoy? Deal?'
'What deal?'
'Your bitch with the disabled dress sense is due back any minute. Am I right?'
'Yes.' I peered timidly out of the window. The garden was clear.
'You can take her. But you stay where I say.'
'Right.' Promises don't keep.
'You stay on North Hill, Lovejoy. Our shop there's empty, under police wraps.'
'I thought they had it under surveillance?'
'That was only when Peter Myer was being a nuisance. He's in France with a sailor friend of mine.'
'Opposite Bea Willing's teashop?'
'She of the Princess Beatrice Canonization Fund. She'll be your eyes and ears, if nothing more!' He tittered. 'Bribe that little horror Polly to keep her trap shut.'
