Three Hands in The Fountain

XXVI

I was able to put off making a judgement. Something more urgent needed investigation first.

I had arranged to meet Petronius back at Fountain Court. Arriving in the early afternoon I found, first, that I had missed having lunch with Helena; she had eaten hers, assuming I must be having mine elsewhere. My second discovery was that since Petronius had dropped in to see if I was home yet, he had been given my food.

'Nice to have you in the family,' I commented.

"Thanks,' he grinned. 'If we'd known you were on your way we would have waited, of course.'

'There are some olives left,' Helena reported soothingly. 'Nuts to that!' I said.

Once we settled down, I went over what Bolanus had told me. Petronius was even more scathing than me about the idea that the killer lived in the countryside. He did not take much interest in my newly acquired aqueduct lore either. In fact, as a partner he was jealous as Hades. All he wanted was to pass on what he himself had discovered.

At first I wasn't having it. 'We've got trouble if Bolanus is right and the murders take place on the Campagna or up in the hills.'

'Don't think about it.' Petro's vigiles experience was speaking. 'The jurisdicrion problems are a nightmare if you have to go outside Rome.'

'Julius Frontinus may be able to override the normal bureaucratic rigmaroles.'

'He'll need several legions to do it. Trying to take an investigation past the city gates is unspeakable Local politics, semi-comatose local magistrates, dimwit posses of horse-thief catchers, antique old retired generals who think they know it all because they once heard Julius Caesar clear his throat -'

'All right. We'll follow up every feasible clue in Rome first.'

'Thanks for seeing sense. While I shall always be an admirer of your intuitive approach, Marcus Didius…'

'You mean you think my method stinks.'

'I can prove it, too. Legitimate policing procedures are the ones that bring results.'

'Oh yes?'

'I've traced the girl.'

Apparently his method did have something to recommend it: that mystical ingredient called success.

Helena and I played him up by refusing to ask further questions even though he was bursting to tell us. We stayed cool, aggravating him by debating whether his one identification would be more useful than my obtaining background which could spark ideas that could lead to eventual solutions…

'Either you two stop goading me,' snapped Petro, 'or I'm going out by myself to interview the man.'

'What man, dear Lucius?' asked Helena gently.

'The man called Caius Cicurrus, who this morning reported to the Sixth Cohort that he has lost his beloved wife Asinia.'

I gazed at him benignly.

'Falco, this is a damned sight more useful than wasting the best hours of your shift finding out that if you pee at Tibur in the morning you can be poisoning people at a snackshop outside the Baths of Agrippa by breakfast next day.'

'Petro, you haven't been listening. The Baths of Agrippa are supplied by the Aqua Virgo, which has its source on the Via Collatina, not at Tibur. The Virgo is also only about fifteen miles long, compared with the Marcia and the Anio Novus at four or five times that, so if you pee in the marsh in the morning, allowing for how slowly the local water-carrier waddles to and from the fountain for your hypothetical snackshop, your noxious residue will actually be poured from his bucket into winecups about mid-afternoon -'

'Dear gods, you're a self-satisfied bastard. Do you want to hear my story, or just mess about all day?'

'I'd love to hear your story, please.'

'Wipe off that stupid grin then.'

Perhaps fortunately, just then Julius Frontinus knocked and came straight in. He was not the type to sit around waiting for us to report back when we fancied it.

Thanks be to Jupiter, Juno and Minerva we did have news to relay.

'Falco's been absorbing some fascinating facts and figures about water supply.' Petronius Longus said it straight-faced. What a hypocritical Janus. 'Meanwhile I learned from my personal contact in the Sixth Cohort of vigiles that a man called Caius Cicurrus has reported his wife missing; the wife's name is Asinia. It matches the ring on the hand you brought us, sir.'

'I haven't been told this by the City Prefect.' Frontinus was put out. Senior channels had failed him. We low dogs had anticipated his illustrious peer network, apparently without exerting ourselves.

'I'm sure the news is winging its way to you.' Petro knew how to make it sound as if he reckoned the City Prefect would never catch up. 'Excuse me for pre-empting official channels: I wanted to be in a position to interview the man before those idiots on the Curator's enquiry interfere.'

'We had better do it now, then.'

'It's going to be delicate,' I said, hoping to deter the Consul.

'Caius has not yet been told his wife is dead,' Petro explained. 'My old subordinate Martinus managed to avoid revealing that her fate is already known.' Martinus in fact was so slow he probably only made the connection after Caius Cicurrus had gone.

'Should he not have put the poor man out of his misery?' Frontinus asked.

'Better for us to explain. We know the details of the find and we're engaged on the main enquiry.' Petro rarely showed his disapproval of Martinus.

'We want to see the husband's reaction when he first hears the news,' I added.

'Yes, I'd like to see that myself.' Nothing put off Frontinus. He was determined to accompany us. Petronius had the bright idea of saying the Consul's formal purple-striped robes might overawe the bereaved husband – so Frontinus whipped off his toga, rolled it in a ball, and asked to borrow a plain tunic.

I was the closest to him in size. Helena quietly went and fetched one of my least mended plain white pull-ons. The ex-Consul stripped and dived into it without a blush.

'Better let us do the talking, sir,' Petro insisted.

I found our new friend Frontinus rather endearing, but if there's one thing Petronius Longus hates more than high-flown birds who stand aloof, it's high-flown birds who try to join in like one of the boys.

As we all trooped outside, Petro checked abruptly on the porch.

Opposite, a smart litter was pulling up outside the laundry. A small figure jumped out. All I could see was flimsy swathes of light violet, with heavy gold hems dragging at the fancy cloth, and a glimpse of anklet on a slim leg. The wearer of this flimflam spoke briefly to Lenia, then nipped up the stairs to my old apartment.

Immediately she was out of sight. Petronius hopped down to ground level and made off with a long easy stride. Frontinus had noticed nothing, but I followed feeling curious. It rather looked as if Petro's sweet little turtledove had become somebody he was trying to avoid.

I glanced back to my own door. Helena Justina was waving us off, standing on the porch holding Julia She too was looking thoughtfully across the street. I caught her eye. She smiled at me. I knew that expression. When little Milvia came down again she was going to be treated to a stern conversation with the daughter of the illustrious Camillus. I would be very surprised if Milvia ever showed her dainty ankle in Fountain Court again.

By the way he was sneaking off round the corner into Tailors' Lane, that suited Petronius.