Moonspender by Jonathan Gash

Prize."
Very wise. She couldn't understand my reluctance to pass through those kitchen
caverns of gore, but finally admitted me round the side. "You must write
out an explanatory card, giving its value."
    "I'm sorry," I said, going all soulful. "But my
dinner's, er, basting in my microwave. I have to get back—"
    Briskly she took charge. "That's easy, Lovejoy. Dine
here."
    "Oh, all right then," I conceded. I'm always doing these
favors. "I hope your niece Mrs. Prentiss likes it," I said, another
flyer.
    "The point is that I do, Lovejoy."
    About an hour later, my insides sloshing with wine and something
called rossini something, I peeped through the
curtains into the crowded candlelit restaurant. Business seemed great. Waiters
sprinted. Music played. That lunatic major was wining and dining Candice, aka
Mrs. Prentiss, the pretty woman who'd egged him on to exterminate me. Her eyes
were brimful of excitement while he yakked and pigged himself in the trough.
Not much mourning for poor George there.
    As I watched, Suzanne made the announcement to a drumroll, reading
from my card. She was in a side-split gold lame evening dress, lovely and
graceful. My exquisite porcelain was rotating on a stand. I was really proud.
It looked delectable, a princess among subjects. I honestly had a lump in my
throat. The orchestra punctuated her announcement tam-la-ta- taraam - taaah !
    "And the lucky table," she was saying, "will win
this beautiful antique treasure, worth ..." She staggered a bit as she
read my numbers, but recovered and gamely finished, a whiter shade of pale.
Tata- taaam - tah ! Applause!
    Thoughtfully I let the curtain sink into place and let myself out
among the zillion parked cars. Suzanne York was clearly a businesswoman, to
think so fast on her feet. I admired her for that. Which reminded me I hadn't
agreed my price for the porcelain gem. Still, a lovely woman from a rich county
family wouldn't welsh, right?  Right?
    When I reached the end of the drive Jacko was gone. See what I
mean about selfishness? I started out on the Long Trek. A night walk's
restful—if the police don't pull you in after a hundred yards.
    9
    "No rest for the wicked, Lovejoy," Ledger said, putting
a small tablet into his police coffee and pulling a face to show me he hated
sweeteners (only the chemical kind, note). "You're not pulling your whack,
lad."
    "Me?" I was annoyed. "I've done everything
everybody's told me."
    "Wrong, Lovejoy." He tasted his coffee, sighed at the
world's slings and arrows. A familiar racking cough rose in the next room.
Tinker. They'd pulled him in as well. What for? Ledger smiled a wintry
non-smile at my recognition. "I had hoped you'd cooperate fully with the
county constabulary. Yet not one scrap of info."
    "I'm no . . .  grass ." I'd heard it often in
gangster series, and now I'd said it under real authentic circumstances. I felt
so proud.
    "Lovejoy, you're not trying."
    "I am, Ledger. Honest."
    His voice raised angrily. "Did you tell me about going over
to Bury and killing that poor bugger Ben Cox today, you rotten murderer?"
He sipped, grued his face. "Phyllis. Who makes
this bloody coffee?"
    "Eh?" I said. "Ledger. What about Cox?"
    The policewoman pinked prettily. "Me, sir."
    I thought, I'm going off my frigging nut. "Ledger," I
said, third go.
    "I hope to God your promotion doesn't depend on it,
Phyllis," Ledger said heavily to her. "You see, Lovejoy," he
went on, pointing a stubby digit, "I asked you very politely: Simply give
us a bell if any seam's on. And what happens? You
bash poor Cox's head in without a word."
    "No, Ledger," I croaked. "Just a minute."
    "Can't we afford that Yankee stuff?" Ledger demanded
irritably of Phyllis. "Granules."
    "Afraid not, sir. Too expensive."
    "When, Ledger?" Me, interrupting these affairs of state.
    He eyed me morosely. "We aren't so daft we haven't traced
your movements, Lovejoy. A busful of witnesses, the
curate at Dedham minding your bloody cat. But I don't like it." He