The Vatican Rip l-5

by Jonathan Gash

  I swallowed, took a chance. 'Well, yes.'

  'You went surety for this old lady?'

  'Not really,' I burbled. 'It wasn't meant to be taken seriously—'

  'You signed a police form frivolously? The officer swelled ominously. 'Intending to default, slip the country, leaving your aged aunt—?'

  I said desperately, 'She's only twenty-odd, for Christ's sake. It's all make-up—'

  He smiled a wintry smile. 'She told us to expect all sorts of ludicrous explanations, signor.' He dropped another photograph on the desk. 'You recognize this antique shop?'

  'Yes. It's…' I hesitated. My job there was illegal. No work permit.

  'Albanese Antiques Emporium, signor?'

  'Yes.' I had a headache. It worsened abruptly as he reached for the phone and dialled without looking the number up.

  The police stood about with the terrible patience of their kind. I noticed two were now between me and the door.

  'Pronto, signora! Yes, we have him… At the airport.' He listened attentively, full of importance. 'Yes, signora.' He turned, placing the receiver on his chest in token of confidentiality. 'Signor Lovejoy. You are in default of a contract of employment with Signora Albanese, no?'

  'No!' I cried desperately. My bloody flight number was being announced. 'Listen! I never had any legal… er…'

  The captain's eyebrows rose in mild surprise. 'You are saying, signor?'

  'Erm…' Adriana had me either way.

  'Having given surety for a vagrant,' the captain said affably, 'without gainful employment?'

  'No.'

  'Then you've defaulted, signor.' He lit a cigar one-handed. It was clearly his trick. Carlo should have seen him.

  'Let me speak to her.' Furious, I snatched the receiver from him. 'Adriana? Now you look here! This is Lovejoy—'

  'Hello, darling.' She sounded quite pleasant, even chatty. 'Speaking from police custody, I believe.'

  I deflated. 'Er, yes. Only temporarily. Some crazy mistake. I want you to tell them that—'

  'That you have a job, darling, and are not a vagrant?'

  'Yes, that's it!' I cried eagerly. My flight number was blipping on the monitor screen in the corner of the room.

  'But, darling. There's this slight matter of those tables, the ones you wrongfully purchased on my account.'

  I thought. 'Is there?'

  'Yes, darling,' she cooed, sweet as a dove. The police were staring patiently at the ceiling as Adriana went blithely on, 'And I'm in such a mess here. A load of antiques being delivered tomorrow, ready for the new season. Such problems.'

  I waited, but so did she. 'So?' I said weakly.

  'Well, darling. You know how much more expert you are at this sort of thing…'

  I swear there were tears in my eyes as I watched that monitor screen. I tried for a last-ditch stand against the unfairness of all womankind.

  'Okay, then. But I want a good rate of pay.'

  'You'll work for your keep, Lovejoy.'

  I yelped. 'For nothing? I eyed the police, wondering if oppressed antique dealers got a discount from the judges in Rome for murdering their tyrannical employers.'

  'You'll receive, shall we say, payment… in kind, Lovejoy.' I could tell the sadistic bitch was falling about with delight at the other end. 'The most intimate kind, of course. In fact, I shall insist on delivering it personally. Think of yourself,' she added sweetly, 'as providing an essential service.'

  The captain blew smoke. He slid an employment form across the desk to me in silence.

  I read it swiftly, my face red. 'Erm, Adriana.'

  'Darling?'

  'Listen,' I croaked hopelessly, 'I, er, have this police form to fill in.'

  'Do it, dearest. I'll come for you directly.'

  'Erm, there's this space. Nature of occupation. I can't write—'

  'Hired consort?' She was rolling in the aisles, though her voice was sugar.

  'What shall I put?'

  There was a pause, then a smile crept back into her voice, and she said, 'I know, Lovejoy. Apprentice.'

  I thought, I'll kill her, but said, 'I can't put that. They'll assume—'

  '—The truth, Lovejoy?'

  The phone went dead, purring anonymity. I looked at the receiver for a long minute before replacing it carefully on its rest. The tannoy announced my Alitalia flight, final call.

  'Your elderly aunt is waiting for you outside, signor,' the police captain said. He too was carefully out of smiles. I glanced about, frantic.

  The four cops inhaled, ready for the dust-up. Brokenly I thought of Adriana streaking out to collect me, of Anna prowling outside the door. The trouble with women is they win so bloody often.

  The captain demanded, 'I take it you are staying a while, signor?'

  'Yes, Captain.' Bitterly I pulled the form towards me and wrote Apprentice in the space provided. I said, 'I may not survive, but I'll definitely be staying.'

  The End

  FB2 document info

  Document ID: 0b68a2ab-d4ba-49ea-bb85-3dcb0e98000d

  Document version: 1

  Document creation date: 28.7.2011

  Created using: calibre 0.8.10 software

  Document authors :

  Jonathan Gash

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