A Rag, a Bone and a Hank of Hair l-21

by Jonathan Gash

  Within seconds of entering the long gallery I'd reeled to a seat, sat there with my head between my knees.

  'Are you unwell, sir?' a pair of security boots asked. I dripped sweat onto the shiny toecaps.

  'It's all right,' a pair of neat brogues replied. 'I know this gentleman.'

  A woman artist had been copying a Turner - frigging nerve - as I'd ambled in. Oddly, her voice was familiar.

  She sat with me. 'Take deep breaths, Lovejoy.'

  'Ta, love. I'll be all right in a minute.'

  She left her easel and paints, and took me outside into the watery sun. We perched on the steps.

  'Lovejoy,' she said eventually, 'you're rather a problem, aren't you?'

  'It's the others, Gloria. Not me.' I had a think. 'Ta for paying my fine.'

  She smiled. Her scent was turpentine. 'You know why I came here? I got to thinking about thieves, who'd steal from such a superb ancient gallery as this. Unscrupulous dealers and such.'

  'Why aren't you with Sir Jesson?' I asked.

  'You thought wrongly. I finished his portrait.'

  A uniformed bobby brought over O'Shaughnessy's Massive manila envelope.

  'Here, missus. He dropped this.'

  'Thank you, constable.' She gave him a sweet smile. '

  I went pale. Luckily it wasn't labelled Burglar's Suss of Dulivich Gallery's Security, Tel's only concession to secrecy. Gloria Dee touched the envelope. 'Is that—?'

  'Dunno, love.' I went guarded. 'Not read it yet.' A detailed aerial photo of the gallery roof slid out. I hastily retrieved it. 'It's okay. The security here's cast iron. It can't be robbed. I only commissioned it for show.'

  For a while we sat watching visitors departing, each with our thoughts. A minibus came, collected a group of little children. Security folk began shepherding people out. Closing time.

  'Lovejoy,' Gloria said at last. 'Are you well enough to travel?'

  'Fine. Ta for asking.'

  'Only, I'm driving to East Anglia. I could quite easily give you a lift.'

  'I've just been released from court, love. You might lob me out miles from anywhere.

  I'm in no fit state.'

  'I can see that. It will do us no harm at least to glance at the fascinating details you have there. I mean, just for an example to other art galleries. Will you wait for me?'

  'Aye. Ta.'

  She went inside for her easel and paints. Which left one green bottle thinking on the wall. She'd never make a forger in a million years. I mean, she mixed Permanent Rose and Windsor Blue. Can you believe some people? Yet she was solvent, bonny, interested in antiques. And seemed keen. And hadn't she been just that little bit intrigued by my burglar's envelope? It spelled potential.

  Not only that, Gloria Dee might just be willing to pause at a night caff on the eastern trunk road and buy me a nosh. She was a kindly soul. She might be compassionate enough to provide me with more than a fry-up.

  'Ready, Lovejoy?' she called from the car at the kerb. Her smile decided me. I'd been lost in thought. 'Don't forget your envelope.'

  'Coming.' Red-faced, I went back for it.

  'The quicker we get started,' she said, 'the better it will be for both of us, don't you think?'

  To my relief her expression was completely innocent. She hadn't intended any hidden meaning. I'd had rather too much of duplicitous women lately. This was the sort I wanted: friendly, willing, and innocent. A rag, a bone, and a hank of hair maybe, but if the sum conveys paradise, so what?

  'Right,' I agreed. Anyway, if Gloria proved too difficult, I could always escape to Caprice and her grotty Theatre Awards Night.

  I'll never know how Gloria didn't see Lydia's frantic signals to us from across the road.

  We just kept going.

  FB2 document info

  Document ID: fa7e34ff-1724-4e4a-a65a-2877c4bb2667

  Document version: 1

  Document creation date: 28.7.2011

  Created using: calibre 0.8.10 software

  Document authors :

  Jonathan Gash

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