One delectable eyebrow rose slightly. ‘Orbilio, we are talking about the same gorilla who broke into my room the night before last? The one you half-strangled? The one who was reeling from that punch in the mouth? In fact, the one you personally trussed tighter than a boiling fowl?’ Orbilio spread his hands and shrugged. ‘So I need more practice tying knots.’
‘Well, you needn’t have bothered on my account, the oaf was lying through his teeth.’
‘Skip it, Claudia, you don’t need to pretend with me. Whatever he was up to when I burst in, his original purpose was to deliver another warning. Am I right?’
‘Tripe!’
‘Notice I say another warning. I know all about the riot, Claudia. In fact,’ he added quietly, ‘I know just about everything.’
Melissa had been whoring, he knew that now, hence his thorough search of her room. She’d have her money stashed somewhere, that was certain, and the chances are it would be under this roof. But she’d need a pimp. Who would steer her towards these high-ranking officials? There could be only one answer, it was just a question of proving it. There were a couple of points that bothered him, such as why, for instance, did nobody see the killer? How could he slip in and out without attracting attention? Also, a man covered with blood would not be difficult to miss-unless his toga covered the stains. But these were minor quibbles, his curiosity would be satisfied at the confession stage. And, by Jupiter, he had no worries about extracting one. Not with the case he’d so painstakingly built up! His hardest task had been unearthing a motive. Without it, of course, he had no killer but once he’d found the motive, Minerva’s magic, it had been plain sailing all the way. One more interrogation was all he needed to clinch it.
She stared at him long and hard for at least a minute. There was a twinkle in his eye, he couldn’t help it, because he knew, he just knew, she was dying to ask. She wouldn’t be able to resist. Who? she’d say, and that’s when Orbilio would come into his own. He’d been preparing for this moment. Nothing could throw him, not at this stage, he was ready for anything. Or was he? As an impish smile spread over her face, he had an uneasy feeling in his gut.
‘You will let me know,’ she said sweetly, ‘when you’ve quite finished drinking that sacred libation to our household gods?’
*
Without a breath of wind in the air it was simply too hot to sit in the garden, and her bedroom was stuffy. Unfortunately, to tackle the task she had in mind privacy was crucial.
‘Hey, you!’
A snap of the fingers brought a small slave boy running. Born to one of the kitchen women, Claudia had never thought to enquire who the father might be. Quite often, she thought, it was best not to know these things.
‘Send Cypassis to me at once. Tell her to pack a picnic, some raisins, a dish of almonds and a bowl of plums. Oh, a flagon of wine and a glass. Hurry, now.’
The little lad beetled off, his pudgy legs stumping this way and that as he ran. Claudia’s nose wrinkled. Surely the father couldn’t be anyone in this house! She resolved to give the men a closer inspection in future, because if they were going to breed, for heaven’s sake, they really oughtn’t be allowed to spawn such ugly sprogs. She’d have to have a word with Gaius, really she would. She tucked a roll of parchment into the folds of her stola. It was high time, she decided, to make a written list of her clients because, thanks to the deluge of other problems, her mental resources had become decidedly stretched of late and it was a simple enough task on the face of it. Who’s dead, who’s in the clear…and who’s still in the frame?
Her litter, its distinctive orange canopy attracting curious glances wherever it went, set her down in one of the public gardens in the Field of Mars. Once a swamp more or less encircled by a great loop of the Tiber, it had been transformed over the last ten to fifteen years into one of the most beautiful spots in the whole of Rome. Adorned by temples and baths and flanked by hills that ran down to the water’s edge, the Field was all things to all men. A peaceful haven to read or gossip. A place to work out, with ball games and gymnastics. Space for chariot practice, military exercises, horse races and all manner of outdoor athletics that could be grouped under the general heading of Showing Off. Claudia settled herself on the steps of the small but elaborate temple to Anna and chewed the end of her reed pen.
The first list was simple enough. There was Tigellinus, in charge of Juturna’s sacred pool. Horatius, the aedile responsible for the Megalesian Games. Fabianus, the jurist. Crassus the retired senator. And now Publius Caldus the banker. Five men who had met with an undeserved and grisly end, steps urgently needed to be taken to ensure the tally stayed at five. Not out of sentiment, particularly, but before Gaius discovered the link. Amiable as he might appear on the surface, rumour spread like a forest fire in this city and it would need but one small whiff of misdemeanour and Claudia would be out. O-U-T, out. She bit an almond in half and flicked the rest into a clump of pinks. A person had to watch their step with Gaius Seferius. Yes, indeed they did.
Glancing up, she was met by the comical sight of Cypassis staggering under the weight of a silver tray piled high with fruit and wine, a monstrous fan of ostrich plumes trailing across the grass behind her.
‘You don’t have to bring everything at once,’ she said.
Cypassis smiled. ‘Saves a second trip.’
‘A longer tunic, my girl, and you’ll have a different kind of trip. Now for goodness’ sake, drink some of this wine and stop wheezing. No, no, you can start fanning when you’ve got your breath back.’
She’d found Melissa’s replacement at the slave auction on Wednesday. The oil merchant’s widow who Cypassis had served for the past three years was selling up and going to live with her daughter in Capua, and Claudia snapped up the bargain. Gaius expressed surprise at her choice of this big-boned girl from Thessaly, but Claudia had warmed to her instantly, attracted to her wide smile and obvious desire to please. She suspected that had Cypassis been left to her own devices she’d have tumbled not only every boy in her own village but neighbouring villages and surrounding farms as well, leaving them with smiles on their faces and warm memories in their hearts. Maybe it was something to do with the dimples in her cheeks, or maybe it was her bosom, which resembled two diving otters desperate to surface for air, but whatever the reason, Claudia reckoned those memories would have lasted them a lifetime. Reluctantly she returned to the task in hand.
List three, the list of suspects, remained depressingly long. Although she’d questioned several punters over the last few weeks and cleared them of any involvement, there always seemed to be someone she’d forgotten, another contestant for the title ‘Maniac of the Month’.
‘I brought you some cheese, madam.’
‘What? Oh, it’s pecorino! That’s-’
‘Your favourite. Yes, I know, madam.’
Claudia nodded appreciatively. This girl had potential, she really did. Within the space of an hour, Cypassis had made the house her home, her eyebrows twitching a come-on to the male slaves, her dimples instantly diffusing jealousy among the women. Another almond shot into the pinks. Assuming those broad hips intended to fulfil the promise made in her eyes, Claudia might need to teach her maid some tricks about contraception, because she was damned if she was going to lose this gem to childbed fever!
The gentle waving of the ostrich plumes sent ripples of pleasure down her backbone. She leaned back, closed her eyes and began to hum. It was her own special song, the one she had composed years back in Genoa, plaintive, haunting, blatantly sentimental, the perfect accompaniment to the languorous dance with which she always finished her act. Or, to put it more bluntly, the perfect way of ensuring generous tips.