Ode to a Banker

XLVIII

I went home. Helena had returned and was talking to Petronius in our third room. She had her nose deep in a chest where my tunics were stored, lifting them out by the shoulders and subjecting each much-loved antique to a mocking survey.

'I am just checking your wardrobe. You and Lucius need to visit a tailor for new togas, so you may as well acquire some wearable tunics at the same time.' She looked up, suddenly uncomfortable, as if she had pried into my bachelor storage without my permission. 'Do you mind?'

'That's all right, love.' Seeing a washed-out wine-coloured tunic that I had forgotten I owned, I grabbed the garment and started changing into it. 'I don't keep anything in there that I don't want you to find.'

Helena went back to her inspection. After a quiet pause she asked me in an amused tone, 'So, Marcus, where do you hide things you are keeping secret?'

We all laughed, while I tried not to blush.

In my bankbox was the answer – or for tricky items that passed through the home temporarily, stuffed quickly inside the slipcase of a cushion on my reading couch.

To change the subject, I told Helena and Petro what had happened earlier. 'Frankly I feel more shattered after coping with my parents than I was last night after we tackled that giant.'

Helena Justina was by then safely out in the main living room, where she had settled to her own devices and started reading a scroll. It must now be the one she had swapped with Passus that morning, when she left Maia here. She was seated in a basket chair like the one Festus had given Ma, with her feet up on a tall stool and the scroll across her knees. She had the intent air l recognised; I could hold an entire conversation with her, but afterwards she would be quite unaware of what had been said. Her mind was locked in the newGreek novel, gallivanting about a strange landscape with Gondomon, King of Traximene, as Passus had been yesterday in the Greek library. Until she finished, she was lost to me. If I had been a jealous type like Pa, I would have been searching for that bastard Gondomon, to take a pot at him.

'Forget your darling family' said Petro. He still sounded hoarse, though he had been given lunch and looked a little livelier than this morning. 'How about concentrating on the job I gave you? I'm anxious to see the Chrysippus case wrapped up, Falco.'

'Don't tell me – Rubella is expected back?'

'Smart boy.'

'When?'

'End of August.'

'That calls for action then. I suppose you want to present your beloved superior with a success?'

'Yes. I want this sorted – before he finds out how much of the slack in our budget I used up on your unconventional services,' agreed Petro, with force. 'Another reason,' he told me more mildly, 'is that I ordered Fusculus to put the bank's new owners under observation, now it's crashed. He reported back on signs that both Lucrio and Lysa are intending to pack themselves off in a hurry to Greece.'

'Oh rats. Showdown time, then.'

'Yes – results, please, Falco.'

'I have a plan, of course.'

Petro glared at me suspiciously. 'I thought you were stuck?'

'Who me?'

Until then my plan had been to eat an omelette and a bowl of wild strawberries, then snooze in bed all afternoon. Instead, I devoured the snack, lay awake on the bed – and planned out what I had to do.

'When in doubt, make a list,' snorted Petro from the doorway, craning his neck to peer at my notes.

'Stop supervising; I have Helena for that. If I may say so, you seem well enough to return to your own apartment now.'

'I'm enjoying it here… Anyway, my place is wrecked,' Petro groaned. Then he nagged me again: 'You come up with something, Falco – or else!'

He was worried. That suited me. When I sorted out the case, he would be relieved and grateful.

Once I was satisfied that I had covered everything, I jumped up, tucked my notes in a pouch on my belt, and strapped on my favouriteboots. 'Where are you going?' Petro niggled, fretting to come with me, though he was still too pasty.

'Out!'

'Oh, grow up, Falco.'

He was always bored stiff as an invalid; I took pity on him. 'Listen, tribune, I am getting somewhere -'

'Even though you don't know who killed Chrysippus, and you can't prove who strung up Avienus?'

'Pedantic swine. We may never be able to finger the Ritusii for Avienus, you know that. Professional enforcers leave no tracks, and Lucrio is clever; he knows he only has to keep his mouth permanently shut in order to get away with hiring them. If it was him. It could have been Lysa.'

'So what's happening?' Petronius frowned.

'I need to ask one or two more questions of almost all the suspects and witnesses. To save me running around like a crazed ant in this summer heat, I shall pull them all in together for one big enquiry session.'

'I want to be there, Falco.'

'Hush, hush, my boy! You will be in on it; I want you to see me triumphantly unmasking the villain.'

'And where are you going now?' he insisted.

'To check one last alibi.'

First, I placed one finger on Helena's scroll just when she was about to unravel the next column. She glared up at me, avid to continue reading. 'Don't, or I'll bite!'

I lifted my finger away quickly. 'Good is it, this one?'

'Yes, Passus was right. It's excellent. Quite different from the first awful thing I read for you.'

'And it looks like the author's own manuscript?'

Helena waved the papyrus impatiently, so I could see it was written in a difficult hand and littered with alterations. She was racing through it though. 'Yes, it's as blotty as a child learning the alphabet. And someone has stuck together all sorts of old documents to make a scroll to compose on – there are even a few luncheon receipts.'

'Stuffed vine leaves?'

'Chickpea mash. Are you going out, Marcus?'

'Devotions at a temple.'

Helena found time for a smile. 'Your geese on the Capitol, procurator?'

'No, the Chrysippus case.' In the background, Petronius snorted. 'I'll be back in time to cook dinner for you and the malingerer. You enjoy yourself with the zippy prose adventure. If I do any shopping for the meal, should I include Marius?'

'No. Maia took him home.'

'She wants her brood where she can see them.'

'Actually, she wants time to herself. But Junia has decided to do something nice for somebody. She is going to Ostia with Gaius Baebius.' Ostia was where Gaius worked as a supervisor of customs clerks. 'She offered to take all the children, so they can swim at the seaside.'

'Junia, on a beach? With a swarm of little ones? And they will have to stay overnight!' Doubt struck me. 'Is Maia going too?'

'I believe not,' said Helena disingenuously. I glanced at Petro and we both scowled. Helena kept her eyes fixed on the scroll. 'The whole point is to give Maia a little peace alone.'

Alone? Or sharing a few delicious moments with her admirer Anacrites?