‘So the Library appointment led to Sobek being on the loose?’ I scoffed. ‘No, I see that as a messier-than-usual end to a love triangle. Besides, I hope any expensively educated scholar intent on murder would do it in an elegant manner - some allusion to classical literature - and an apt Greek quotation pinned to the corpse.’
‘There is no scholar at the Museion,’ complained Zenon, ’who could bring off a murder. Most need a scale diagram and instructions in three languages even to lace their shoes.’
I gazed at him, both of us silently acknowledging how practical he was. He could certainly have worked out how to sneak away some goat’s meat and lure Sobek from his pit. Moreover, unlike the unworldly men he was deriding, Zenon had no qualms about violence. I skipped down the stairs before he could make another of his attempts to throw me headlong from his sanctuary.
XXXIX
I went to see Thalia. As I was setting off for her tent, I noticed the Director leaving the Library. He was in the company of a man I recognised: the same man who had come to see my uncle and whom I also had spotted yesterday, walking through one of the colonnades here.
Philetus and the businessman had definitely been together, though they immediately parted company. I nearly followed the trader, but I had yet to discover enough about him to feel ready. So I went after Philetus.
He bustled along like a worried rabbit and had reached his office when I caught up. I tapped his shoulder to hold him up, in the classic Forum manner. I went straight to the point: ‘Philetus! Don’t I know that man I just saw you with?’
He looked annoyed. ‘It’s Diogenes, a scroll collector. He makes a menace of himself, trying to sell us works we don’t want or need. Poor Theon was always trying to get rid of him.’
‘Diogenes,’ I repeated, chewing it over slowly, the way people memorise names. The Director was now trying to shake me off, determined not to let me indoors with him. We stood on the steps of his building like a couple of pigeons having a stand-off over a scatter of stale crumbs. He was just puffing up his feathers to look big. I was manoeuvring to get at the barley cake. ‘I wanted to ask you about scrolls.’ I made my voice casual. ‘Explain about the time poor Theon discovered all those Library scrolls on the midden-heap. Somebody told me you had ordered it.’
‘Just a minor housekeeping exercise,’ Philetus sniffed. ‘Theon was not there and his staff went to extremes.’ Trust Philetus to coerce juniors and then blame them. The weakest kind of management. ’When Theon found out and he outlined his reasons for keeping the documents, naturally I bowed to his expertise.’
‘What were you trying to do - save money?’
Philetus looked abstracted. He was behaving like a man who had realised he might have left a lit oil lamp in an unattended room. I smiled at him reassuringly. That really scared him.
‘So! That was Diogenes . . .’ I murmured, as if it was highly significant. Then I could not bear Philetus and his vacillations any longer so I let the bastard go.
Thalia was with Philadelphion, the Zoo Keeper, though he left as I was approaching. They had been hanging over a fence and looking at a group of three young lions, just bigger than cubs, the long-bodied male starting to show a ridge of rough fur where his mane was coming, the two females having rumbustuous play-fights.
I said I hoped I had not driven Philadelphion away.
‘No, he had to get on, Falco. Things to do and he’s short-handed. Chaereas and Chaeteas have gone to their grandfathers funeral.’
‘So people still use that tired excuse for a free day off?’
‘Well, it’s better than “got a stomach upset”, even if you can only use it twice.’
‘Informers don’t have that luxury - nor you, nor anybody self-employed.’
‘No, it’s funny how your stomach goes back to normal very quickly when you don’t have any choice.’
‘Talking of upsets, are you fit, Thalia?’ I asked affectionately. ‘You seemed a bit off-colour yesterday morning.’
‘Nothing wrong with me.’
‘Sure? Not that I would blame you after Sobek’s escapade -’
‘Leave it, Falco!’
‘Fine.’
I changed the subject and reconfirmed with Thalia her impression of the zoo’s financial health. She reckoned they had plenty of money. They could purchase any animals they wanted; there was no pressure over fodder and accommodation bills; the staff seemed happy, which meant there were enough of them and they were well treated.
‘Sounds satisfactory . . . Are you buying those lions?’
‘I think so.’
‘They are beautiful. You’re bringing them to Rome?’
‘A lot of beautiful animals will be having a very short visit to Rome, Falco. When the new amphitheatre opens, thousands will be slaughtered. Why should I lose out? If I don’t take these three, someone else will - or, since the zoo cannot keep too many full-size lions, they will end up in one of the arenas in Cyrenaïca or Tripolitania. Don’t weep for them, Falco. They were doomed from the day they were captured as cubs.’
I was musing aloud: ‘Could the zoo be involved with some scam - procuring wild beasts for arenas?’
‘No. Stop fantasising,’ Thalia told me frankly. ‘There is no scam. Traders and hunters acquire rare beasts down south and in the interior. They show good specimens to the zoo first. That’s what they have always done, since the pharaohs. If the zoo turns them down, the hunters move on to sell elsewhere.’
‘And your three lions?’
‘Were kept here as a public attraction while they were cute cubs. Now they are a handful and Philadelphion is glad I’ll take them.’
‘I’d better go and find him,’ I said, concluding our conversation. ‘I have to ask the silver-haired charmer whether one of his colleagues might want to kill him.’
‘Scram then,’ rasped Thalia.
‘I don’t suppose you know anything about the Zoo Keeper’s love life?’
‘Wouldn’t tell you, even if I did!’ replied Thalia, laughing coarsely.
Well, that sounded more like her old self.
XL
I tracked down Philadelphion. ‘I won’t keep you long. I hear your men are at a funeral . . .’ He gave it a nod, but made no other comment. ’What are they - brothers?’
‘Cousins. What do you want, Falco?’ He was terse. Perhaps he felt harassed, having to slop out enclosures and heave around feed buckets. When I found him, he had his sleeves rolled up to the armpits, straw in his hair and was doling out fruit to the baby elephant.
I asked if it was true that he had quarrelled with Roxana the day Heras died. Philadelphion denied it. I said there was supposed to be a feud between him and the lawyer Nicanor, with Nicanor making threats to steal Philadelphion’s mistress. ‘Roxana herself told me. And I know he is determined to defeat you in the race to become Librarian - using any unfair means.’
‘You think that pumped-up dandy let out my crocodile? Sobek would have crunched him up on the enclosure ramp.’
‘That then raises this question, Philadelphion: did you suspect Roxana might be meeting a rival at the zoo - so did you let Sobek out?’ Philadelphion guffawed but I kept at it: ‘You would know how to do it. Did you think Roxana was meeting Nicanor, and was he supposed to die?’
‘Falco, what kind of world do you live in?’
‘Sadly, one where it is necessary for me to insist you tell me where you were the night young Heras was killed.’