Leonides cast a pained expression at Claudia. ‘That’s one of the things I was trying to tell you,’ he said in between struggles. ‘This man’s been shouting your name outside the door for three nights running.’
‘Claudie, you said we could talk. You promised, Claudie, you-Unk!’
There was a crash as he fell headlong on to the floor. ‘I hope I didn’t hit him too hard.’ As Orbilio inspected the chair for damage, a leg dropped on to the floor with a clatter.
She looked as white as his best toga. ‘This lunatic’s been muddling me up with somebody else. Last time my brother-in-law sorted him out.’
‘Not well enough, it seems.’
Orbilio turned to the goggling slaves. ‘Toss him into the street, he can sleep it off outside.’ He brushed his hands together. ‘Not that I’d fancy his headache when he wakes up!’
They grabbed hold of the bearded giant and staggered off with the lifeless body, cursing and grunting under the weight.
‘Thank you.’ He noticed she didn’t actually look him in the eye when she said it.
‘All in a day’s work-’
‘Ahem!’
That was Leonides. He seemed to be indicating towards the corner. Orbilio looked round to see a soldier with a rather sheepish expression hovering patiently. He recognized him as Timarchides, also employed by Callisunus.
‘You’ve a message for me?’ he asked.
‘If you’re Marcus Cornelius Orbilio, then, yes, sir, I have.’
Neither Claudia nor Leonides made an effort to draw away, and for Orbilio to request privacy in another person’s house was too disrespectful to contemplate. He waited to the point of rudeness before saying, ‘Well, spit it out, man.’
Affronted, Timarchides stepped stiffly forward and stood to attention, fixing his eye on a point somewhere over Orbilio’s left shoulder.
‘That matter of the missing slave, sir. Reporting to say-’
‘What missing slave, Timarchides?’
His mind was still coming to grips with the intrusion of the big, ugly lug he’d just brained with the chair leg, but before the soldier could refresh his memory, Claudia had inserted herself between them.
‘This is not a police station, Orbilio, or an army barracks. If you wish to chase runaways, kindly go elsewhere to conduct your enquiries, because I will not tolerate this house being used as a garrison night and day.’
‘Oh no, madam. This is part of the murder inquiry.’ The earnest expression on Timarchides’ seasoned features inspired her to raise an encouraging eyebrow.
‘The girl was caught red-handed hocking the victim’s property-’
Orbilio silenced him with a look and the soldier’s complexion darkened. ‘You’ve got her, then?’
Timarchides made a great show of fluffing up the plume on his helmet. ‘In a manner of speaking,’ he said, his eyes riveted on the bronze cheekpiece. He didn’t much care for the impatient clucking sound in his superior officer’s throat, it made a trickle of sweat run down his nose, nor did he like the way Orbilio snapped, ‘Explain!’ but there was no alternative. He’d have to tell the truth and hope to Hermes the blame wouldn’t land on him.
‘I wasn’t there, of course’ (that was clever of you, lad, clear yourself right at the outset), ‘but it seems the silversmith recognized the piece she was trying to sell, sent for the police and in the confusion of the gathering crowd somehow the little bitch gave them the slip.’
‘Yes, I know that,’ Orbilio said patiently. ‘What I’m asking you, Timarchides, is this: is she or is she not in custody?’
The soldier grunted noncommittally. ‘She’s been found…’ He left it trailing.
‘Where?’
‘Near the river. I reckon she’d seen how carefully we’d been searching wagons and carts and decided her only escape route was over the Tiber. Except she wouldn’t have counted on so many soldiers patrolling the bank. So yes, we’ve found her all right. Only trouble is,’ he crossed his fingers behind his back, ‘she’s dead, sir:’
‘You’re joking! How?’
‘No other way out so she slashed her wrists. Sir.’ Orbilio waved a tired hand. ‘Give the “sirs” a rest, Timarchides, just tell me whether you’ve made a positive identification.’
It was obvious the soldier wasn’t going to be caught napping a fourth time. First, he didn’t know whether it was his place to step in and help break up that brawl, then he was berated for not delivering his message in public, and finally he was made to shut up when all he was doing was explaining the situation to Mistress Seferius. Not for all the women in the Docklands was he going to cop it again!
‘Oh, it’s definitely her, sir. No question. Still wearing the clip.’
Orbilio’s mouth turned down. ‘And you’re absolutely sure it’s the same girl?’
‘The slave catchers found her, sir, and them slave catchers don’t make mistakes.’
That’s true. They’re mean sons of bitches and no mistake. Orbilio perked up. ‘Right, Timarchides, what’s the address?’
The soldier’s face puckered and he jerked his head sideways, twitching his nose.
Orbilio hadn’t time for games. ‘Minerva’s magic, man, it’s a simple enough question.’
Again the histrionic facial expressions.
‘Speak up, for gods’ sakes, I can’t hear you.’
The legionary cleared his throat and squared his shoulders. ‘I said, she lives here, sir. Goes under the name of Melissa.’
*
Claudia was the first to break the silence. Never had she heard so much tosh in her life, she said. Melissa was here…maybe not here at this precise moment, but she was certainly around, wasn’t that correct, Leonides? The steward took one pace forward, held out his hands palms upwards and shrugged. Actually, no, he mumbled, Melissa hadn’t been around for a while, he’d been extremely concerned. It was one of the points he’d been trying to make since madam came home. He did stress it was a matter of urgency, he said, but was withered by a look before he could finish his explanation.
All this Orbilio absorbed through his pores. Lips were moving, voices were heard, but it was happening as though he was outside looking in, distanced from the whole affair. The sun was sinking fast now, casting long shadows across the peristyle. He could smell fish cooking in the kitchen, felt the first faint chill of the evening, heard the delivery wagons clatter along the street in the distance, yet still he hovered above it, his mind whirling. He heard a man’s laugh-and started when he realized it came from himself. Dismissing Timarchides, he strode off to the slave quarters, aware of Claudia in hot pursuit. She looked pale, he thought. Vulnerable.
The cubbyhole that was Melissa’s was better than most, he noted absently, undoubtedly reflecting her position in the household, but it was still little more than the size of a packing crate. For furniture, it contained a bed and a table and no more. A small looking-glass sat on the table. An oil lamp in the shape of a ram, which he lit. A pot of cream. Some hideous heathen medallion. A bottle of perfume. Without thinking, he lifted the lid-and his eyebrows arched. It was rich and exotic and spicy.
‘What did you expect? That I’d put up with the chit hanging round me all day reeking of cheap scent?’
The rims of her eyes were red, he noticed. Ebarrassed, he turned his search towards the rest of the room. Clean underclothes. A spare tunic, showing Melissa could turn a neat needle. He knelt down and searched under the bed. One small ivory-handled knife.
‘What are you looking for?’
Orbilio leaned back on his haunches. ‘I’m not sure,’ he said slowly. ‘Something to connect her to the others, I suppose.’
‘Like what?’
He weighed the knife in his hand. It could scarcely have peeled a peach, a flimsy thing like this.
‘I don’t know. I really don’t know-Jupiter!’ He’d thrown back the bedcovers automatically. ‘Claudia, take a look at this!’