The Lydian Baker

36

I was shattered when I got back. Reaction, probably. Perilla was in, but I skipped dinner and went straight to bed. I didn't even stop for a cup of wine, which shows you how far gone I was.

I woke up early the next morning feeling great and slipped downstairs without disturbing Perilla: a sweet lady she may be in many ways, but morning person she isn't, and if she doesn't get her eight hours and wake natural the whole world suffers.

Bathyllus was up and around, though, and I got him to bring me breakfast in the garden. While I mopped up olive oil with my bread I ran over the current state of the case. For what it was worth.

First, the Baker itself. That we'd only have one crack at. I was pretty sure Tiny knew where it was hidden, but he was the only one left alive who did and I hoped to hell the next time I saw him wouldn't be as a stiff on the boat shed floor. Baker aside, any more corpses I could do without.

Who our villain was was less clear-cut. Alibi or not, my money was still on Demetriacus, however much of a shining light of his profession the guy's doctor was. He was the only candidate who accounted for all the facts, and a six-figure-value block of property would be a pretty good exchange for one little lie. Fortunately, that was one avenue I could check: Demetriacus might have Lysimachus in his pocket, but he'd also have slaves who'd know damn well where their master had been on the night in question. What was more, they'd be willing to tell me for less than the price of a City tenement.

On the other hand, if you took things differently and allowed for a few ragged edges (which might not even be ragged edges) then my pal Felix made a good second runner. Maybe even a scrape-home first. The guy was devious as a Market Square lawyer, he'd been after the Baker from the start, and he was totally devoted to his boss's interests. Yeah, I could believe in Felix. Except that his way of getting the statue wouldn't've included murder, especially multiple murder: one death Felix might regard as unavoidable, but three he'd see as downright sloppy workmanship. Felix was a con artist, not a killer. Demetriacus was different. That bastard was capable of killing, although when he did it'd be a carefully-chosen means to a definite end with all sorts of backups in place.

Yeah. Judging purely by temperament, even from what I'd seen of him I'd go for Demetriacus over Felix every time.

Maybe.

I sighed. What I wanted was both Felix and Demetriacus together, and that I couldn't have…

Or could I?

I stopped, an olive half way to my mouth. Okay. So let's let that one go and see how it runs. Demetriacus wouldn't want the statue for himself: he was a businessman, not an end-user, and he'd still need a customer. Felix was a natural. Say that Demetriacus approaches Felix, who he knows from any of a dozen different sources is interested in the statue. Or no, scrub 'interested': desperate. And as such not too choosey how he gets it. Yeah, that might fit, just. So when Smaragdus stages his double-cross the two join forces. Felix pretends to Smaragdus that he's on his side and…

No, that wouldn't do. For a start it only avoided Felix being involved in one of the murders, Argaius's, and I was still left with the problem of the doctor. Anyway, why should Felix 'pretend' anything?

Unless he was staging his own double-cross. Of Demetriacus this time. Only Demetriacus was wise to it and sent his agent Prince Charming to cut the corner. But then…

'Good morning, Marcus. Are you intending to eat that olive or just stare it to death?'

'Uh…morning, Perilla.' I put the olive down guiltily. 'Sorry, I was thinking. Neither. Maybe I'll just let it live.'

'Fine.' She kissed me. 'I take it you slept well.'

'Like a log.'

'So I noticed.' She sat down and reached for the rolls and honey. 'If logs snore. How's the investigation proceeding?'

'It isn't.'

'Nonsense.'

'Believe it. I've got two suspects and they're going round each other like a pair of kids' tops. That's to say if they aren't both part of the same top to begin with.'

'Now that really is nonsense.'

I helped myself to a roll. 'The killer has to be Demetriacus. Only it can't be if you believe his doctor Lysimachus because he wasn't at the Scallop to talk to Melanthus who's his only link with the Baker and who ends up that same evening with his throat slit by Prince Charming.'

'Pardon?'

'Or alternatively the villain's our old pal Felix aka Eutyches, working for Gaius in Rome. Only it can't be him either, because when push comes to shove twisted as the little bastard is I can't believe he'd stoop to murder. Not the Argaius kind, anyway. Nor Harpalus's. Let alone cutting that poor bastard Melanthus's throat, which makes no fucking sense at all.'

'Don't swear. There's no excuse for it even if you do feel frustrated.'

'I'll swear if I like, lady. And that was mild.'

'I'm also not particularly taken with snarling at breakfast.' Perilla dipped her roll in the honey. 'If there are difficulties with both then why need it be either? It could be someone else entirely.'

Oh, great! Marvellous! Just the help I needed! 'Jupiter, Perilla, there is no one else! Unless you think old Alciphron up at the Academy killed them all because their library books were overdue. Or maybe Melanthus didn't talk to Demetriacus after all. Maybe he popped out for a chat with Tiny and they fell out over a definition of beauty and the nature of the fucking soul.' I sat back and balled up my napkin ready to throw it into the rose bed…

I didn't do it. I didn't do it because suddenly everything shifted sideways, the sun came out and I knew beyond a doubt who the killer was. Somewhere, somebody coughed. I looked up.

'I'm sorry to disturb you, sir.' Bathyllus. And he had on his peeved prude look.

'Uh, yeah. Yeah, little guy,' I murmured. Gods! What an idiot! The answer was obvious! 'What is it?'

'You have a visitor.'

'A visitor?' I tried to get my brain back into kilter. What passed for my brain. 'At this hour of the morning?'

'Yes, sir. He sends his apologies, but he says it's important and he must see you.'

'Okay. So are you going to divulge the guy's name or do we get three guesses?'

'That won't be necessary, sir.' A sniff. 'The gentleman's name is Demetriacus.'

Perilla said something, but it didn't register. Demetriacus. Sure it was, it couldn't be anyone else. And if I was right then his business was important as hell; though why he'd decided to come now, and to me rather than Callippus, I didn't know…

'Marcus?'

'Hmm?'

'I asked if you were all right.' Perilla was staring at me, and she looked worried.

'Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine. More than fine. Excuse me a minute, will you?'

I got up and followed Bathyllus inside. Demetriacus was sitting in the guest chair. He wasn't alone. Behind him stood Antaeus, glaring at me like Megaera the Fury watching Orestes put on his running shoes. Uh-oh. This might be tricky.

'Corvinus.' Demetriacus was looking grey. 'I'm sorry to disturb you so early, but since our talk I've been doing a lot of thinking.'

I nodded. 'And you've decided to come clean after all.'

He gave me a sharp look. Antaeus rippled.

'I told no lies.'

'I never said you did, friend.' I took the chair opposite. Slowly, and with both eyes on Antaeus. Shit, I wished I had my knife in its wrist sheath, but you don't expect to need that kind of insurance in your own home, especially over the breakfast porridge. 'All you're guilty of is being economical with the truth and trusting your staff too much.'

Antaeus shifted again. He was the bastard I had to watch: one word from his boss and, own home or not, I'd be dead meat before I could whistle.