Mico showed a genuine interest. 'Yes, I heard about your rooms!' Great. Everyone seemed to know what had happened, yet not one of them had tried to do anything about it. 'Do you want a hand putting things straight?' Not from him, I didn't. I wanted my old place to be liveable, and by next week not next Saturnalia.
'Thanks, but you have enough to think about. Make your ma look after the children while you get out a bit. You need some company-you need some work, Mico!'
'Oh something will come up.' He was full of misplaced optimism.
I gazed around the sordid room. There was no sense of absence, no silence left by Victorina's loss. It was hardly surprising. Even in life she had always been off somewhere else having her own idea of a good time.
'I see you're missing her!' Mico remarked in a low voice.
I sighed. But at least his attempts to comfort me seemed to cheer him up.
Since I was there I decided to get a few questions in: 'Look, I'm sorry if this is not the right time, but I'm making some enquiries for Mother and I'm seeing everyone about it. Did Festus ever say anything to you about a scheme he was involved in-Greek statuary, ships from Caesarea, that sort of thing?'
Mico shook his head. 'No. Festus never talked to me.' I knew why that was. He would have had more luck trying to dispute the philosophy that life is a bunch of whirling atoms with a half-naked, barely sober garland girl. 'He was always a pal, though,' Mico insisted, as though he thought he might have given the wrong impression. I knew it was true. Festus could always be relied on to throw crumbs to a stranded fledgling or pat a three-legged dog.
'Just thought I'd ask. I'm trying to find out what he was up to on his last trip to Rome.'
'Afraid I can't help you, Marcus. We had a few drinks, and he arranged a couple of jobs for me, but that's all I saw of him.'
'Anything special about the jobs?' It was a forlorn hope.
'Just normal business. Plastering over brickwork:' I lost interest. Then Mico kindly informed me, 'Marina probably knows what deals he had on. You ought to ask her.'
I thanked him patiently, as if the thought of speaking about Festus to his girlfriend had never occurred to me.
XIV
If I was ever to solve the soldier's murder I needed to take a more direct hand. Petronius Longus had warned me to keep away from Flora's. I had no intention of obeying him. It was lunch-time, so I turned my feet straight towards the caupona.
Wrong move: I was compelled to go past. One of Petro's troopers was sitting outside on a bench beside the beggar on the barrel. The trooper had a pitcher and a dish of soggy stuffed vine leaves, but I knew what he was really doing there: Petro had told him to make sure I didn't get in. The man had the nerve to grin at me as I passed by, faking a nonchalant expression, on the far side of the street.
I went home to Ma's house. My second mistake.
'Oh Juno, look what's straggled in!'
'Allia! What have you come for-a bodkin or a pound of plums?'
Allia was my second-eldest sister; she had always been Victorina's closest ally, so I was as low in Allia's affections as the grit in an empty amphora, and she had never featured at all in mine. She must have been here to borrow something-her normal occupation-but luckily she was leaving just as I arrived.
'Before you start on about Festus-don't!' she informed me with her regular brand of truculence. 'I know nothing about it, and I really can't be bothered.'
'Thanks,' I said.
There was no point in attempting to argue. We parted company on the threshold. Allia lurched off, big-boned and slightly ungainly, as if she had been mishandled during the birth process.
Helena and Ma were sitting at the table, both fairly straight-backed. I threw myself on to a coffer, ready for the worst.
'Allia has been telling us some interesting stories,' Helena announced bluntly. That would be the Marina incident. It had been useless to hope she would never find out.
I said nothing, but saw Helena lock her teeth on the left-hand side with an angry overlap. I was angry myself. Encountering Allia always felt like reliving several hours of childhood-the dreariest part that normal memory sensibly wipes out.
Looking tired, Mother left me alone with Helena.
'Stop looking so shifty!' At least she was speaking.
I drew a long breath, surreptitiously. 'You had better ask me.'
'Ask you about what, Marcus?'
I wanted a chance to explain things away. 'Ask about whatever poisoned thistle Allia planted in the melon field.'
'I'll find you some lunch,' said Helena Justina, pretending she had not heard this magnanimous offer.
She knew how to punish me.
XV
The lunch Helena provided was adequate, though no more. I shuffled off afterwards, looking as if I had useful work to do. In fact I spent the afternoon exercising at the baths. I wanted a chance to brood over the Censorinus killing-and to get myself in shape for whatever problems lay ahead of me.
When I first appeared at the palaestra Glaucus gave me a sideways look. He said nothing, but I guessed he had been interviewed about me by Petronius.
I was in no hurry to return to Mother's house. As I dawdled along the Ostia Road the rain finally stopped. A pale sun forced itself through the clouds, touching roof finials and awning-poles with a cheerful gleam. I risked pushing my cloak back from my head. When I breathed, the air smelt cold but no longer full of storms. It was simply winter in Rome.
The city half slept. The streets felt lonely. A few people who had no option scuttled here and there, but it was hardly the glad place I knew in warmer days. No one walked for pleasure in Caesar's gardens, no one sat out on balconies shouting across to their neighbours, no one drowsed on stools in doorways, no one went to the theatre and filled the evening air with distant rumbles of applause. I heard no music. I saw no partygoers. The acrid smell of bathhouse smoke crawled sluggishly on the still air.
Lights began to be lit. It was time to be going somewhere positive, even if the somewhere was not home. Wandering aimlessly could attract the wrong attention. Besides, it makes a man depressed.
With nothing to lose, I had another go at Flora's.
This time there were no visible representatives of the watch. I had to be careful, since Petronius sometimes dropped in on his way home to dinner. I won't say he needed to strengthen his resolve before he faced his wife and their three raucous children, but Petro was a man of habit, and Flora's was one of his habitual haunts. I had a swift look round both outside and in before I let my feet come to a halt.
I had timed it just right. Petro's operative had done his job and reported back to the guardhouse. There were no other customers. The day's wastrels had drifted off. It was just too early for the evening trade. Flora's was all mine.
I leaned on the counter. Epimandos, the shabby waiter, had been scraping out bowls, but the minute he saw me he dropped his spatula.
'The usual?' he let out before he could stop himself, but then he froze in panic.
'Skip the food. I only have time for a half jug of house red.' I was keeping him on tenterhooks. For once he leapt into action. The jug appeared so rapidly I nearly put my palm in it as I turned back from a quick survey of the street behind. Still no sign of Petronius.
Epimandos was staring at me. He must be well aware I was chief suspect in the Censorinus case. He must have been amazed even to see me when the whole Aventine was waiting to hear I had been arrested.
Still stringing him along, I took a huge swig of wine like a man intent on getting horribly drunk. Epimandos was bursting to ask questions, yet petrified what I might say or do. I amused myself bitterly wondering how he would react if I had actually done the deed; if I did get drunk; if I sobbed on his welcoming shoulder and confessed my crime like an idiot. He ought to be grateful I was here, providing a scene to thrill the customers with when he told them about it afterwards. Mind you, saying 'Falco came in, drank a half-pitcher, then left quietly,' would hardly grab their attention.