The Ides of April

XLV

Andronicus was the killer. Now that someone else agreed with my suspicions, it all seemed horribly obvious.

To diffuse my panic, I fell back on nervous humour. "Oh he can't be a murderer; his eyes twinkle!"

The runner sat tight while I grappled with the truth. I was stalling. He knew it. For the first time, I faced up directly to the personal implications. It did not take long, because the dread had been lurking all last night. Not for the first time, I had given my heart impetuously to a man who then betrayed my trust-but this was by far the most sinister occasion.

"Story of my life," I admitted bitterly. "Being strung along by a bastard, taking far too long to notice it…"

Judging by his expression, Tiberius had met embittered women before and had little patience with my self-pity, but what he said was, "From my observations, Andronicus truly fell for you."

I flared up. "And I stonkingly, inexcusably, ridiculously fell for him!"

"Steady."

"But for a series of accidents-and my own unease, it's fair to say-it could have been worse. At least I never slept with him."

I wanted Tiberius to know. Why? It was none of his business.

He brushed the statement aside. Embarrassed perhaps.

"I am furious. He stole something of mine to use in his terrible attacks-worse, it was something I had been given by my dear young sister! That's a good needle-case, it had associations with Julia, but I will never feel able to use it again."

Tiberius took it back from me. He needed it as evidence anyway.

I buried my face in my hands, raging now at myself.

"What a mess. This is what everyone expects if you do a traditional man's job. Oh Juno; if you are an honest woman, it's what you dread yourself. Sheer bloody incompetence. You will tangle yourself up in some terrible case; make things far worse; sleep with a killer; compromise yourself, your future chance of work, even risk not convicting him-"

I need not say that while I ranted, Tiberius listened inscrutably. I doubt he realised there were few people to whom I would reveal such depths of feeling. I truly felt I trusted him.

He had pushed back from the table, arms full-stretch, while he settled himself to hear me out as if this was an unpleasant formality that had to be gone through.

I finished. I fell quiet. He applied what passed for a reasonable expression; he even cocked his head slightly to one side. The poser.

"You told me," he corrected me, "you did not sleep with him."

"You are being pedantic."

"Better," the mimsy swine intoned, "than being hysterical." After a moment he added in a serious voice, "You made a mistake. It lasted a few weeks. Some of us have to live with the fact that we harboured this creature for years. He seemed harmless. We would have ended his bad behaviour at home. He would never have been detected as a killer, without your enquiries. To my shame, I even tried to get the vigiles to stop you."

"Pax!"

"Thank you. So, Flavia Albia, shall we two sensibly together work out the sequence of events?"

I summed up first, while the runner indicated agreement to each point with silent nods. I had noticed he did this in meetings. It gave the impression he was waiting to catch people out, but I now realised he liked to hear from everybody else first, in case it affected his own contribution. If he saw any need to intervene earlier, he would do it.

"To begin where I first came on the scene," I said. "Andronicus killed Salvidia because she had visited the aediles' office and verbally attacked him; she was enraged about that wall poster calling for witnesses to the death of little Lucius Bassus."

"My fault!"

"Your fault," I agreed unrelentingly. He wrote the poster. "Andronicus was right that he was blameless, merely the man she had found in the office, but Salvidia's violent reaction shook him. It was unjust. He was overcome with outrage, as happens with him, so he took an extraordinary revenge by killing her. Then I turned up in the office, and perhaps he wanted to stop me investigating-I remember he kept saying, 'So you don't need to waste any more time?' I guess he went to the funeral and tried to find me, still hoping to make sure I discovered nothing against him. He met the old woman outside the necropolis. Celendina took umbrage in a way he found insulting, so he followed her home and killed her too."

"Morellus thinks you had a lucky escape that night."

"Andronicus could have killed me any time."

"Ah, but soon he was unable to resist you!"

"Skip the crass jokes."

"I was not joking," replied Tiberius mildly. "He spoke of you to us at home as a gorgeous creature. There was hope you might reform the irresponsible side of his character-though I'd like you to know, I never wished him on you." He paused. "I tried quite hard to keep you apart."

Feeling disconcerted, I carried on: "Prior to those attacks, he had killed Julius Viator-why? Can it be that when Cassiana Clara was sitting in the garden at your house during that dinner party, and Andronicus found her, he was the man who assumed she was, as he told me very crudely, 'asking for it?' He made a grab for her? I wanted to persuade her to give me a witness statement-"

Tiberius shook his head and interrupted. "No need. The girl can be left to forget the incident, if she really can ever forget that it led to her husband's murder. I was in the colonnade on the other side of the garden, coming back from the facilities. Andronicus had not heard me. I saw it all. And yes, he tried to force himself on her. She was very inexperienced; the assault was a great shock to her."

"So he read the situation wrong? She screamed?" A nod. "Viator rushed out, saw his wife struggling, was furious, and like the other victims, he made his feelings known much too strongly for Andronicus?"

"Viator actually thumped him."

"Oh, now we see that was Viator's death sentence!"

"That seems to have been his first death," Tiberius said glumly. "One good punch from an athletic man caused his deterioration into a killer. And Andronicus was in severe disgrace at home for weeks after he assaulted Cassiana Clara," he told me. "Tullius gave him a warning. He came very close to being dismissed permanently that time."

"That time?"

"He has a long history of behaviour problems. Being reprimanded has no effect. He never admits he has done anything wrong. If forced, he blames other people; once you know him, you can watch his cunning brain devising excuses as he wriggles." Tiberius described it wearily; I had the impression he had been involved in trying to rehabilitate the culprit. "He wins over Tullius, who likes an easy life, with that charm of his."

"And Faustus?"

"Sees through him."

"One day Andronicus took me to the house," I admitted, knowing that Tiberius would raise a scathing eyebrow. On cue, he obliged. "I thought the other staff were friendly with him."

"That's how he gets away with it," Tiberius said, scowling. "You and I view him as a predator, but most people notice nothing unusual. He knows how to blend in. He has hidden his aggression and his lack of remorse in plain sight."

"When I said her husband had been murdered, Cassiana Clara was terrified he would go after her next. It seemed extreme then. Of course she is right. If he fears she might give evidence against him- say he assaulted her and her husband threatened him-Andronicus will attack her too. Someone threatens him, he just wipes them out of existence. Has Clara been sent away from Rome to protect her? Has the aedile warned her family?"

"Yes. To both questions."

That was a relief. "So," I concluded, "what do we think about Lupus?"

"Lupus?"

"The oyster boy."

Tiberius chipped in immediately: "We buy our shellfish from that stall. Lupus was a cheeky lad; I remember him. Liked to joke with customers, typical barrow boy, pain in the arse sometimes, basically too young to judge when his comments were inappropriate. The Porticus is over by the temple, so if no one else was on that side of the hill but Andronicus had to be at the archive, he would be ordered to pick up supplies. On one occasion, he came home complaining bitterly that a boy had been rude. Took it personally, as he always does. Refused to go again."

"Clearly he did go, once too often," I concluded grimly. "When I interviewed the family they reckoned they saw nobody the day Lupus was killed, but if we paraded Andronicus they might remember him."

"They might."

Tiberius stood up. The subject was affecting him. It was affecting me too, so I also lumbered to my feet. I felt stiff, weary and downhearted. He complained about us sitting in that enclosed stuffy room for too long to be good for thought; he urged that we left the station house and went somewhere with a new view and more air.

In the doorway Tiberius paused, looking at me from close quarters. He could see I was reluctant to go. "All right?"

"Fine."

"I don't think so."

"I will be."

He waited a beat, but when he saw my chin come up, he steered me into the colonnade and we set off walking.