The Spook Who Spoke Again

7

I felt that my enquiries were bogged down. People in my family say this happens. You have to go home and rave about, groaning like an ogre, while everyone keeps out of your way. If you start throwing your boots at the walls too noisily, Helena comes in and settles you. She says, calm down, darling, you don’t frighten me but you are scaring your poor innocent children. Tell me what the matter is, please. Nothing is the bloody matter. I know, just tell me about it, sweetheart. You growl that the case is impossible, you wish you never took it on, why don’t you ever learn, you are going to sack the client and bugger it.

I see, says Helena.

Next day you get up, have a bright idea, and solve your case.

You can’t get bogged down on the first day, that’s too soon to lose heart. You have to do spadework first. Spadework or legwork. I couldn’t do legwork because I wasn’t allowed to walk off on my own, I was supposed to stay in the tented area or at the Circus track. So I did more spadework.

After the aedile left, the acrobats milled around. They were stretching, balancing and practising sleights of hand, juggling and manipulating. The kennelful of trained little dogs were running around pulling miniature chariots. Faustus had not witnessed this, which was a good thing because only half of the doggies did it, while the others broke out of their reins and scampered about, yapping naughtily.

I announced loudly that I would not tell my sister’s boyfriend, the aedile Faustus, that the company’s performing dogs were hopeless, so long as someone helped me find out what happened to my ferret yesterday. They all pulled faces, as if they were impressed.

You have to identify where everybody was when the crime happened. So I walked around asking each person whether they had been in Thalia’s tent yesterday morning, or if not, where? I made a list in my notebook, the one Faustus gave me (he had told me I could keep it unless he ran out of them). There were two columns, one column for people who admitted they had been in the tent and one for those who hadn’t, but when I finished asking, all the people were listed in the same column, saying they had not been there. This was no use. But at least I had now learned their names.

They all knew me too, so if anyone remembered anything helpful, they could come and find me easily.

I then made a third column for anyone I believed had lied to me. This was one: the tiny woman called Sassia. She had a face like a monkey and I could see all her bones. The reason I thought she was lying was that she was now wearing a green costume with fringes on it which I knew I had seen in the pile of clothes in the tent. It was a crucial clue.

On the other hand, it would be very dangerous for Sassia to go into that tent because if Jason thought she was a little monkey, he might make her his prey. But if she had badly wanted to fetch her costume, she might have shown him Ferret as a distraction from her.

I could not really remember when I saw the green costume. Was it before Ferret disappeared, or afterwards? Luckily it wasn’t my job to remember things, because I was not a witness. I was the enquiry agent. We don’t come under suspicion. We are in command.

If Sassia collected the costume this morning, she would be in the clear for the crime, which happened yesterday. I didn’t ask her that question. I was biding my time. I could make it a dramatic moment in my revelation of the suspect’s guilt.

You have to do that in public, gathering together all the interested parties so you can discount them or discredit them. Don’t forget that someone may own up who hasn’t really done it, because they are protecting someone else. There is generally someone with a long-lost lovechild they have not dared to name, or another person has been blackmailing someone to force them to keep quiet about a terrible thing that happened twenty years ago. This is life. Especially when it’s death. Especially murder, because nobody would kill another person just because they lost their temper, would they?

The acrobats were rather strange. When I was asking questions and working out who they all belonged with, Pollia was sitting across the lap of the one called Laurus; she looked extremely comfortable there so I asked if he was her husband. I knew it was wise to check. I carefully didn’t mention that I had seen her kissing Hesper yesterday. On no, said Pollia with a silly laugh, her husband was Pedo. I couldn’t understand it because Pedo at that moment was snuggling up to the other woman, Silvia. They were murmuring to one another and giggling the way people do when they are being all lovey. I didn’t know how to show all this on my chart of which people were linked to each other. These acrobats did not even try to make my job easy.

After I had made a whole lot of notes, I noticed the scene-shifters were bringing in the water organ that Davos had mentioned. I had only seen one from far away before, so I walked up to watch.

‘Oi, oi,’ said a young man called Theopompus as they were setting it up. ‘Here comes the supervisor! Watch your backs.’

I gave him a sickly smile, saying I hoped they knew how to do this without me helping.

A nicer one called Epagatus stood aside with me and discussed how they put the organ together. That left Theopompus with all the heavy lifting, which did not please him.

I knew something about this because in our library at home, I mean Falco’s house, we had a scroll with drawings of inventions. It included a hydraulus, which is the official name of a water organ. There is an octagonal base with the pipes on top, twenty four (I counted) in decreasing sizes. The big fat longest pipe was twice as tall as me, so it was a very imposing structure. The force of the water descending somehow makes air rise up from a chamber into the pipes which creates sound. A double keyboard is used to choose which pipe, and so which sound comes out. Epagatus tried to explain the works, but I could not follow. He was not a good explainer.

I wasn’t going to hear the hydraulus playing because Sophrona, the musician, had to look after all her brood instead that morning. Epagatus said that as well as five children she had a useless husband she couldn’t get rid of and also a lover, Ribes, the orchestra conductor, whom Epagatus called as dim as muck, and who was in fact the father of all her children. Theopompus called out scathingly, not too dim to have it away whenever he wanted, then let another idiot have the expense and trouble of his brats. Sophrona specialised in twerps. You wouldn’t think she was also capable of playing sublime music.

‘Does Sophrona’s useless husband know he’s being made a fool of?’ I asked.

‘Oh, no. He’s extremely short-sighted, is Khaleed. Nobody knows the number of times he’s glimpsed Ribes making a fast getaway from their tent with his tunic still halfway up his arse, and not realised it was him, let alone what he must have been up to!’

I was cross because that was another very complicated link to draw in my chart.

As the organ wasn’t playing, I wandered off to where a properties controller from the theatre company was sorting out equipment. Large baskets had been delivered, which he was emptying out and exploring. He had a fake baby wrapped in a moth-eaten shawl, enormous rattly cooking pots, a shaggy coil of rope, bags of wooden money and a very old home-made snake with spangly eyes. He waggled the snake wildly, hoping I would scream though I didn’t. Sand fell out of it.

They had some cracked leather armour for the boasting soldier to wear and a couple of wooden swords that any suitable character could use. I picked up one, struck a few attitudes and tried the edge. It didn’t feel sharp. ‘Would you be able to kill a person with this?’ I was thinking about my task of bringing retribution on whoever was to blame for my loss of Ferret. I really meant, would I be able to kill someone. Someone such as Thalia.

‘It’s blunt. That’s intentional. It wouldn’t go in, but if you ran at an opponent fast, you could inflict a really cracking bruise. Believe me, that has happened. Actors are always involved in deadly rivalries so they whack one another “accidentally”.’ I pricked up my ears, in case I had discovered more murky situations to investigate, then I reasoned that the acting troupe had only arrived this morning so none of them were relevant to the death of Ferret. While I thought about that, I swished the wooden sword about, frowning seriously.

‘What are you thinking of, Postumus?’ demanded the props man in a suspicious tone. His name was Dama. He seemed a better class of person than the acrobats, though not much better.

I gave him my mysterious smile. That normally settles a conversation. Most people who receive my mysterious smile go away in a hurry.

I had got the hang of investigating, and the next stage would be something that always happens to annoy the investigator. That was clear because of what Dama said: ‘Ho, ho!’ He sounded alert and stern. ‘Don’t tell me you are looking for a means to protect yourself, young man?’