The Lydian Baker

'You want to come in properly?' Without waiting for an answer I turned to Bathyllus. 'Bring the wine jug, little guy.'

'And some fruit juice, Bathyllus,' Perilla said firmly. 'With two cups.'

'Whatever.' I led the way into the living room. 'Have a seat. Make yourself comfortable.'

Chrysoulla sat stiffly on the edge of the guest chair. She was nervous as a cat. I lay down on the couch and Perilla took her usual place by the pool.

'Now,' I said. 'Being a foreigner I'm not too sure about how Greeks do business, but I'd bet good money they don't send their wives round to clients' houses alone after dark. Especially when they could've talked face to face the same morning. So where's Argaius?'

'I don't know.' Her hands twisted in her lap.

'The guy outside the cookshop told me he was out of town on family business. That isn't true?'

A pause. 'No.'

'Marcus, stop it!' Perilla was looking frosty as hell. 'This isn't an interrogation. Or it shouldn't be.' She turned to Chrysoulla and said gently: 'Your husband's disappeared, hasn't he? When did it happen?'

'Last night, ma'am. He said he had to meet someone. About the Baker.'

I opened my mouth to speak, but Perilla shot me a look before turning back to the girl.

'Did he say who?'

'No. He never tells me nothing — ' She stopped and then said carefully, 'Anything. About the business. He just said he had a meeting with a buyer. On Mounychia.'

Uh-oh. This I didn't like the sound of. Mounychia was the old quarry area to the north east of Zea Harbour, and what few buildings there were in that quarter were shanties or slums. No one who had enough cash to be interested in the Baker would live on Mounychia, so it had to be an assignation. A clandestine assignation. And that stank like dead oysters in July.

'He didn't come back?' Perilla said.

The girl shook her head. 'No. And it's been a whole day now.'

Bathyllus padded in with the wine and fruit juice. Chrysoulla took a token sip and laid the cup down.

'There's no chance that he's simply been delayed?' Perilla asked. 'Or that he's gone on somewhere else?'

'He said it'd only take a couple of hours, ma'am. A preliminary meeting.' Chrysoulla stumbled over the phrase. 'Anyway, he would've sent a message. But that's not why I'm worried.'

'No?'

'Just before midnight someone knocked on the downstairs door. We keep it barred at night, even when we're both in. I thought it was Argaius, but it wasn't.'

I set down my wine cup. 'Don't tell me. The guy I met in the street today, outside the cookshop. Right?'

She swallowed. 'Yes, lord.'

'You know him?'

'I'd never seen him before. He didn't do anything, he just told me that if I wanted to see my husband again I should stay at home and not answer the door to no one till he said different.'

'So why come and see me now?'

'Because I'm scared,' she said simply. 'And because there's no one I can go to.'

'What about family? Friends?' That was Perilla.

'Argaius hasn't any family, ma'am, not living, anyway. And mine are in Crete. As for friends we've none that could help. And the law won't be interested because' — she hesitated — 'well, they just wouldn't be, that's all.' She looked at me. 'I hoped that a Roman like the lord here would have…might be able to…' Her shoulders began to shake.

Uh-oh. There went the interview.

'Marcus,' Perilla said, 'Take your wine into the dining room, please.'

'Uh, yeah. Yeah, okay.' I sidled out quickly.

Not unwillingly, though: I needed the chance to think.

4

I parked my superfluous carcass on the dining room couch. What the hell was going on here? Sure, the basic scenario was obvious: Argaius had been suckered into a phoney business assignation on Mounychia by Prince Charming or his boss, probably the latter because Prince Charming hadn't exactly struck me as the artistic type. The 'why' was obvious, too: whoever had snatched the guy had done it to get his hands on the Baker without going through the tedious process of actually buying it. I didn't know much about Greek business etiquette, but I'd bet that wasn't normal practice. Which meant that someone out there wanted Priscus's statue pretty badly. Badly enough to put themselves outside the law to get it.

A straightforward assessment of the situation, right? Only from the angle I'd been coming from so far it made as much sense as an oyster running for consul. If this was a scam like I'd been assuming then lifting Argaius was crazy. The corollary of that was that maybe the statue was genuine after all, and Prince Charming's boss knew it. On the other hand, bubblehead Chrysoulla had let slip that if Argaius wasn't exactly crooked he was the next thing to it, certainly the kind of citizen whose disappearance the authorities wouldn't bend over backwards to investigate. So the guy had form, and guys with form who offer to sell rich punters long-lost solid gold statues with Herodotean pedigrees for large amounts of gravy rate pretty low on anyone's credibility scale. On the other other hand, even if by some miracle Argaius was playing straight then how the hell had a small-time Piraeus crook got his hands on a seriously-missing six-hundred-year-old art treasure in the first place?

Conversely, the whole deal might still be phoney as a landlord's tears, and whoever had kidnapped Argaius was just a mad, misguided, gormless enthusiast like Priscus with all the common sense and social conscience of a walnut…

My brain was beginning to hurt. I poured out a full cup of wine and downed it in one. What did it matter, anyway? Perilla had had a point: I'd no personal interest in this, and just thinking about spending that much on a statue, solid gold or not, genuine or not, brought me out in hives. The best thing I could do was send Chrysoulla down to Watch headquarters with a note for the commander asking as a favour if he'd look into the matter and then write to Priscus saying the deal had fallen through. And if that meant screwing up Mother's sex life for the next few months then tough cheese. She'd just have to spend her time in Baiae taking cold baths and learning to crochet.

I was getting up to give our uninvited guest the polite brush-off when Perilla appeared in the doorway.

'She's all right now,' she said. 'It's safe to come back through.'

'Fine.' I picked up the wine jug. 'Just give me five minutes in the study first, okay?'

'To do what?'

'To write a letter for her to show Callippus.' Callippus was the City Watch commander.

Perilla was frowning. 'Wouldn't it be better if you went in person?'

'What for? She's a big girl, she can manage these things on her own, and the guy won't eat her.'

'Yes, but you could explain matters yourself in more detail, couldn't you?'

Jupiter! I thought I was being crystal clear here, but obviously something wasn't getting through. Maybe I was more tired than I'd thought. 'Perilla,' I said, 'listen. For once I'm going to take your advice, okay? I'm going to drop this thing like a hot brick, right now.'

'But Marcus, dear, you can't do that!'

I stared at her. 'Run that past me again, would you? I must've missed something.'

'The poor girl is in a terrible state. You heard what she said about having no one to go to for help. And whatever you put in your letter you know perfectly well that Callippus is not going to take any action whatsoever.'

'Maybe not, but that's up to him. Argaius is a crook, after all. Chrysoulla practically admitted it.'

'That has nothing to do with it. He's Chrysoulla's husband and he has gone missing under very suspicious circumstances. If the authorities won't take action then someone ought to.'

'Not me, lady.'

'Very well.' Her jaw set. 'Then I most certainly will.'

Oh, shit. Double shit. I knew that tone. There was a flash of green on the wall as our friendly household gecko streaked for cover.