Veleda's acolyte looked pale and wary – perhaps from putting up with Ma, though I held back my sympathy.
Fair hair isn't everything. By daylight, I found Ganna too young and unformed to be attractive. I didn't trust her either. I must be growing old. When women gave me lies, I no longer found it exciting. I had no time or energy for game-playing of that sort. There were better games to play with somebody straightforward who was close to you. I wanted witnesses to give up their information in a pleasant voice and a direct manner, pausing at suitable moments to help me take down notes. Of course there was no chance of that.
As a neutral lead-in, I asked Ganna about any jewellery or other financial resources Veleda had. We discussed rings and necklaces, while I quietly wrote details on my note-tablet.
Without looking up, I said, 'She went straight to Zosime, but I imagine you know that, Ganna.' Then I did glance at her. Ganna twisted her hands, pretending not to understand. 'I assume there was a plan.' I kept it conversational. 'What I want from you now, please, is how did she organise her escape from the Quadrumatus house?' 'I told you, Falco -' 'You told me a load of tosh.' We were sitting in my mother's bedroom; I found it odd. In this familiar scene, with Ma's narrow bed, woollen floor rug, and the battered basket-weave chair where she sometimes nodded off in the midst of deep thoughts, I could barely bring myself to exercise tough tactics on the visitor. 'Let's be honest now, shall we? Otherwise, I shall hand you over to the Praetorian Guard. They will extract the details very quickly, believe me’. 'That man who was here the other night is with them?' Ganna demanded looking nervous. 'Anacrites? Yes. Obviously, he came because he suspects something.' Ma would never have explained that Anacrites was simply her old lodger. She liked being mysterious. 'I ask polite questions; he prefers torture.' The young girl let out a wild, brave cry: 'I am not afraid of torture!' 'Then you are extremely foolish.' I made it matter-of-fact. Afterwards I sat and waited until terror eroded her fragile bravery. By the time I left, I knew how the first part of the escape had been worked. An old gambit: Veleda hid in a small cart, which called daily to pick up laundry. The intention had been that Ganna would escape too. When the commotion over Scaeva's death erupted, the two women happened to be in different places in the house. Ganna said she assumed Veleda had seized her chance and hopped into the laundry cart while panic raged. 'She feared the worst? Why would she think the murder affected her?' I asked, though I half guessed the answer. 'Because of the severed head in the pool.' 'How do you know she saw it?' Ganna looked straight at me. 'We had heard a commotion – screams and people running. Veleda went to see what had happened. She must have walked through the atrium. If she saw the young man's head, she would know at once this would be blamed on her.'
'Her reaction does seem plausible – now you have placed her in the vicinity of the crime!' Ganna was not used to interrogation; I could see she was panicking. 'From the way you spoke – ' I made it nasty 'I could suspect you know all this for certain. So you must have seen Veleda, and discussed things, since she left the Quadrumatus house.' 'That's wrong, Falco.' I wondered. I had never been a man who assumed all foreigners were deceitful, and their women the worst. Although plenty of provincials had tricked me, or tried to, I liked to believe other nations – taught by us – were honest and decent in their dealings. I could even pretend that outsiders beyond the Empire had their own code of ethics, a code which compared well with ours. Well, I could believe that on a good day.
Yet when Ganna gave her answers, I thought she was lying – and she was not very good at it. My work made me cynical. Plenty of people had told me tall stories, many while giving me earnest eye contact. I knew the signs.
When I first visited the Quadrumatus villa, I had inspected the remote quarters Veleda and Ganna had shared. Their rooms were a long distance from the entrance and atrium. In that sprawling house, I doubted the two women would have heard what was happening far away in the main hallway when the murder was discovered. Even if they had, if they were frightened of the tumult, I reckoned they would have gone to investigate together. So either Ganna had then been left behind at the house deliberately – or Veleda had gone to the atrium alone. She might even have been there before the murder happened.
Why could that be? If she was visiting Gratianus Scaeva, as he relaxed on a couch in the elegant salon, with his flautist expected at any moment to entertain him with delicate music, did Scaeva know she was coming? Did they have an assignation? And if so, did the tryst go wrong? Was I to believe, after all, that Veleda did kill him?
In a house so stuffed with servants, it was impossible that nothing had been witnessed. I must have been told lies at the house too. I was starting to think that whoever could have given evidence had been silenced, presumably on orders from Quadrumatus. My planned return to the villa this afternoon was overdue.
XXIX
Victor, who acted as the Seventh Cohort's eyes in the Saepta Julia, was older than I had expected. I had thought he would be some snitch from civilian life, a double-dealing waiter or a down-at-heel clerk, not a professional. He was a pensioned-off vigiles member, bent by his early life as a slave and calloused by six hard years of fire-fighting afterwards. Thin and dismal, he was nevertheless sharpened by the training he had received. I felt his evidence would be reliable. Unfortunately, he had little to give.
He surrendered the purse Justinus had dropped when he was arrested. It contained very little money. Possibly Victor himself had raided it; I did not ask. More likely, Pa's price for Claudia's present that morning had cleaned the young man out. The present was still there: a pair of ear-rings, silver, winged figures with hairy goat legs. I would never have bought them for Helena. Almost as soon as I sent Victor packing, Pa turned up. 'Greetings, double-dealing parent! These the baubles you sold to Quintus?' He looked proud. 'Nice?' 'Horrible. ' 'I've got a better pair – bezel-set garnets with pendant gold tassels. Want first refusal?' I liked the sound of those but even though I needed to give Helena something at Saturnalia, I declined. 'First refusal' probably meant several prospective buyers had already said no for some very good reason. 'I won't ask what exorbitant payment you screwed out of Just in us.' 'Ancient figures are at a premium. Very fashionable.' 'Who wants a leering satyr nuzzling his lover's neck? This one has no hook. How is Claudia supposed to wear it?' 'Must have slipped my attention… Justinus can get that fixed, no trouble. '
I wanted my father to co-operate, so I bit back my scorn. Instead I told him about Veleda's jewellery, gave him descriptive notes based on what Ganna said, and asked him to organise his colleagues at the Saepta to keep a lookout. 'If a blonde woman with a nasty attitude offers any of this stuff around, just keep her there and fetch me quick.' 'Will I fancy her?' 'She won't fancy you. Bring this off and there's money in it.' 'I like that!' grinned Pa. He dawdled, gawping, when Clemens brought Zosime in, but as soon as Pa heard she nursed sick slaves on Tiber Island he lost interest. Anyway, the medico was not the kind of bawdy, blowzy barmaid he liked to grapple. She was sixty, serious, and scrutinised my departing parent sadly, as if rascals were a well-known breed to her. But when Pa shamelessly asked about his haemorrhoids, she offered to recommend a doctor. 'You can have them squidged.' 'Sounds good!' 'Inspect the surgical instrument before you decide, Didius Favonius!' Over-confident as ever, Pa looked nonchalant.