Every Last Cent

'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.'

'There were police inside, spying. Polly told me.'

'That was only Sep Verner, doing his worst.'

'Maud's on her way to stay with you, Lovejoy. Quaker's left for London.' Mel gazed around the cottage. 'Pushy bitch will take you over. It'll be a mite crowded. And Tina's staking her claim, since her acting scam folded.'

'Deal,' I croaked.

'You'll divvy whatever antiques I send over during your stay.'

More orders. I swallowed. No way out.

'How will you get me there?' I knew Willie Lott would have some bruiser watching the lane.

'You can hide in Mel's van, with your antique bitch Florence.' He tittered. 'If Mel covers her up, she won't frighten the horses.'

One thing about Sandy, he never stops being vicious.

'Deal, then. Oh, one thing, Sandy.'

'Yes?' He felt on top of the world.

'I won't be able to pay you two rent until it's all over.' I saw greed light his eyes. I still hadn't forgiven him for being instrumental in killing Timothy Giverill, who'd simply been an innocent insurance man, if there is such a thing. 'Would you call us quits, if I mentioned to Susanne Eggers when I phone her tonight that you're the ones who helped to get Consul Sommon off the hook? He's going to make a fortune from his imported antiques. He'll be so grateful.'

His eyes shone. Mel looked at me with mistrust.

'No, Sandy,' Mel warned. 'Lovejoy's up to something.'

'What?' I said dolefully. 'I'm broke, have to hole up while thugs want to hang me. What can I do?'

'Don't trust him, Sandy, dear.'

'It's all right, Mel! Diplomatic immunity means nobody can touch him!'

'Then I'll spread the word that you two arranged everything for Consul Sommon.' I said it so kindly.

'Why, thank you, Lovejoy!'

'No need,' I said truthfully. 'Here comes Florence. Would you give her a hand with these two suitcases while I tell her where we're going to stay?'

'Mel, help the poor bitch, there's a dear.'

'And thanks, Sandy. You've been a real friend.'

'I have, haven't I? Incidentally, did you see my arrival as Queen Midas at the Quay?

Wasn't I simply exquisite?'

'I thought it was Queen of Sheba,' I said pleasantly, as Mel went to take Florence's shopping bags.

'No,' Sandy said eagerly. 'I was like this wonderful Queen Midas. Gold was my theme, Lovejoy. . .'

I got ready to leave. Heaven alone knew when I'd see my cottage again.

'Thanks for everything, Sandy,' I said, giving the place one last look.

And God help you, I thought, but did not say.

In broad day, I stole into Bea Willing's teashop, rear entrance from the alley behind St Peter's churchyard. I left Florence and Mel to carry the suitcases, in case I got spotted and had to make a run for it.

Little Polly sat on her stool by the cake counter eating ice cream. She watched me come. 'Mum? It's him.'

'Shut up, you noisy little sod.' Secret as the nine o'clock news.

'Mum! Lovejoy sweared!'

Across North Hill I could see my future abode. A tatty little antique shop, boarded up, the police yellow tape threatening you with all sorts if you went in. My heart sank.

'Hello, Lovejoy.' Bea was preparing her set cream teas, jam, scones, double cream, butter. 'Did Sandy tell you the arrangement? I send your food to you once you're over there. You don't move. You don't come here.'

'I know.'

A large presentation cake shaped like an ocean liner stood on the counter. Good enough to eat.

'Got some old dear along with you, I hear.'

'She's unloading my things in your yard.'

Bea smiled. 'That's my lad. How long will you be in there?'

'Few weeks, I expect. What's the ship?'

'That's the Aphrodite' little Polly said. 'The cake's for its party.'

'Newly launched, first cruise tomorrow.' Bea checked the clock. 'Passengers are leaving the George at six.' She tutted, glanced out of the window. 'Those station taxis. I ordered him an hour ago, and he's only just arrived.'

A taxi drew up. I hefted the cake on its silver stand. 'Want me to carry it out, Bea?'

'He'll lick it,' Polly prophesied with the untroubled serenity all infants possess.

'I'll do nothing of the sort,' I said indignantly, carrying the cake ship to the door.

'Don't be seen, Lovejoy,' Bea warned anxiously.

I smiled as Florence came staggering in with her two suitcases. I took the cake to the taxi, placed it on the back seat.

'Move up the road a few yards, mate,' I told him. 'I've a case.'

'That'll be extra,' the driver said sourly.

'Isn't everything?'

He gunned his engine and went up the hill a little. I went and took one of Florence's suitcases. Who'd have thought a load of old photographs would weigh so heavy? Well, she'd promised to give me some as a present, right? I could sort out which ones, as I travelled. It would save her bother.

'I'll just carry this across,' I said helpfully. 'No, it's fine. Nobody'll notice in the traffic.'

'Lovejoy's escaping,' Polly announced. 'I can tell.'

Little swine. I beamed at her. 'Back in a sec.'