Three Hands in The Fountain

XVIII

Petronius was furious. When he returned from his trip out of town, the tale I reported from Lollius brought out his worst side as a member of the vigiles. He wanted to storm down to the Tiber and arrest anyone who carried an oar.

'Back off, Petro. We don't know any names, and we won't be told any either. I poked around a bit but the boatmen have clammed up. They don't want trouble. Who can blame them? Anyway, without an actual torso what can you do? We now know that the rivermen find these things; it's no real surprise, because if there are dismembered hands floating about then the other body parts had to be somewhere. I let it be known along the embankments that next time we'll take delivery of what they trawl up. Let's not annoy the bastards. Lollius only coughed to me because he was yearning to play the big prawn.'

'He's a rotten old bloater.'

'Don't tell me.'

'I'm sick of messing about, Falco.' Petronius seemed tetchy. Maybe when I sent him to Lavinium I had made him miss an assignation with Milvia. 'The way you do things is incredible. You tiptoe all around the facts, sidling up to suspects with a silly smile on your face, when what's needed is to hand out a few beltings with a cudgel -'

'That's the vigiles' trick for encouraging public trust, eh?' 'It's how to run a systematic enquiry.'

'I prefer to woo the truth out of them.'

'Don't fib. You just bribe them.'

'Wrong. I'm too short of cash.'

'So what's your method, Falco?'

'Subtlety.'

'Bulls' bollocks! It's time we had some routine around here,' Petro declared.

To impose this fine concept, he rushed off, despite the hot weather, and took himself to the river where he would try working on the boatmen although I had told him not to. I knew he would get nowhere. Clearly the harsh lessons I had absorbed in seven years as an informer would have to be learned all over again by him before Lucius Petronius carried weight as my partner. He was used to relying on simple authority to generate something even simpler: fear. Now he would find he lacked that. All he would inspire in the private sector was scorn and contempt. Anyway, for private citizens putting the boot in was not a legal option. (It was probably illegal for the vigiles too, but that was a theory nobody would ever test.)

While Petro was exhausting himself among the water bugs, I applied myself to earning some petty cash. First I cheered myself up extracting payment for various jobs I had done months ago, before Petro joined up with me; the denarii went straight into my bankbox in the Forum, minus the price of a couple of shark steaks for Helena and me.

Then, thanks to our recent notoriety, we had a few tasty tasks. A landlord wanted us to investigate one of his female tenants who had been claiming hard luck; he suspected she was harbouring a live-in boyfriend who should be coughing up a share of the rent. A glance at the lady had already revealed that this was likely; she was a peach and in my carefree youth I would have strung out the job for weeks. The landlord himself had tried unsuccessfully to waylay the boyfriend; my method only took an hour of surveillance. I settled in at midday. As I expected, promptly at lunchtime a runt in a patched tunic turned up looking furtive. He couldn't bear to miss his snack. A word with the tenement's water-carrier confirmed that he lived there; I marched in, confronted the culprits as they shared their eggs and olives, and clinched the case.

A well-to-do papyrus-seller thought his wife was two-timing him with his best friend. We had been watching the set-up; I decided the friend was innocent, though the dame was almost certainly being screwed on a regular basis by the family steward. The client was overjoyed when I cleared his friend, didn't want to hear about the cheating slave, and paid up on the spot. That went in the honesty dish Petro and I were sharing, even the large gratuity.

On the way back to Fountain Court I dropped in at the baths, scraped myself down, listened to some unimportant gossip, and bantered with Glaucus. He was working with another client and I didn't stay. Back at base Petronius Longus had failed to reappear. I was in for a hard time worrying over his whereabouts; it was like being in charge of a lovelorn adolescent. I hoped his absence meant he had gone to attempt a reconciliation with his wife. I knew it was more likely the dog had sneaked off to see Balbina Milvia.

Pleased with my own efforts I shut up the office, exchanged a few words with Lenia, then strolled across the street. I was the cook here, so long as we lacked a troop of whining slaves. Helena had been marinading the fish steaks in olive oil with a few herbs. I panfried them simply over the embers in our cooking bench and we ate them on a green salad dressed with vinegar, more oil and a dash of fish sauce. We had plenty of oil and sauce after our Spanish adventure, though I applied them sparingly. A good shark steak should stand alone.

'Did you rinse them well?'

'Of course,' retorted Helena. 'I could see they had been salted. Mind you, I was wondering what had been in the washing water. ..'

'Don't think about it. You'll never know.'

She sighed. 'Well, if Lollius was right and people have been murdered, cut up, and dumped over several years, I suppose we're all used to it.'

'The torsos must have been put straight into the river.'

'How reassuring,' muttered Helena. 'I'm worried about the baby's health. I'll ask Lenia if we can draw our water from the laundry well.'

She wanted the horror stopped. So did I. She wanted me to stop it; I was not so sure I could.

We left a decent period so it didn't look as if we were hoping to be given dinner, then walked over the Aventine to her parents' house. I thought we were just enjoying a cheap night out, but I soon realised Helena Justina had more precise plans. For one thing she wanted a closer inspection of the situation regarding Claudia Rufina. Claudia and both Helena's brothers were there, moping because their parents were holding a dinner party for friends of their own generation, so the house was full of tantalising food scents while the youngsters had to make do with leftovers. We sat around with them until Aelianus grew bored and decided he was off out to hear a concert.

'You could take Claudia,' Helena prompted.

'Of course,' said Aelianus at once, since he came from a sharp-witted family and had been brought up well. But Claudia was frightened of Rome at night and decided to opt out of this invitation from her betrothed.

'Don't worry; we'll look after her,' his brother told the prospective bridegroom. The comment was quiet and nonjudgmental; Justinus had always known how to niggle in an underhand way. There was no love lost between these lads; born barely two years apart they were too close. They had no habit of sharing anything, least of all responsibility.

'Thanks,' Aelianus responded laconically. Perhaps he looked as if he were having second thoughts about going. And perhaps not.

He did leave us. Claudia carried on discussing the orphans' school with Helena, which suited both of them. Claudia was nursing our baby, being the kind of girl who grabs them and shows off how sentimental she can be. It may not have been the way to her betrothed's heart. Aelianus could only just stomach the thought of getting married; it was tactless of Claudia to let him see she expected him to play his part in filling a nursery.

I enjoyed a long talk with Justinus. He and I had shared an adventure once, rampaging like heroes all over northern Germany, and I had thought highly of him ever since. If I had been of his own class I would have offered him patronage, but as an informer I had no help to give.

He was now in his early twenties, a tall, spare figure whose good looks and easy nature could have wreaked havoc among the bored women of the senatorial classes if it had ever struck him he was cut out to be a heartbreaker. Part of his charm was that he appeared to have no idea of either his talents or his seductive potential. Those big brown eyes with their intriguing hint of sadness probably noticed more than he showed, however; Quintus Camillus Justinus was a shrewd little soldier. According to rumour he was chasing after an actress, but I wondered if the rumour had been carefully cultivated so that people would leave him alone while he chose his own path. Actresses were death to senators' sons. Quintus was too clever for social suicide.

Vespasian had hauled him back to Rome from a military tribunate in Germany, apparently in great favour. As so often happens, once Justinus arrived home the promise of an upward push evaporated; other heroes were catching attention. Justinus himself, always diffident, showed neither surprise nor resentment. I was angry for him, and I knew that Helena was too.

'I thought there was talk of you trying for the Senate at the same time as your brother? Didn't the Emperor hint that accelerated entry might be possible?'

'The impetus died.' His smile was wry. Any barmaid would have given him a free refill on the spot. 'You know how it is, Marcus. So I suppose I'll now stand for election at the normal age. It spreads the financial burden for Papa.' He paused. 'I'm not sure that's what I want, in any case.'

'Going through a tricky phase, eh?' I grinned at him. He wanted to do well – and to beat Aelianus at it. That was understood.

'Being difficult,' he agreed.

Helena looked up. She must have been paying attention even though she had appeared deep in conversation with Claudia. 'I suppose you scratch yourself in front of Father's illustrious friends and refuse to change your tunic more than once a month, and you're surly at breakfast time?'

He beamed at his sister fondly. 'I don't turn up at breakfast at all, dearest. In the middle of the morning when all the slaves are busy washing floors I emerge from bed – walking straight through the clean bit in last night's dirty shoes – then I demand a fresh sardine and a five-egg omelette cooked exactly right. When it comes, I leave most of it.'

I laughed. 'You'll go far – but don't expect an invitation to stay with us!'

Looking over her large nose, Claudia Rufina gazed at the three of us with troubled solemnity. Maybe it was just as well she had been linked to Aelianus. He was proper and conventional. He never indulged in ludicrous fantasies.

Helena patted the young girl's heavily bangled arm, for no obvious reason. Also for no reason her eyes met mine; I winked at her. Shameless, she winked back without a second thought. Then we held each other's gaze as established lovers sometimes do even when it is socially inconvenient, shutting out the other two.

Helena was looking well. Clear-skinned, good-humoured, alert and intelligent. More formal than she would be at home, since you never quite know what to expect when visiting a senator's house: a pristine white gown with a shimmering golden stole, an amber necklace and light earrings, her face defined with hints of colour, her hair tucked into several fancy combs. Seeing her confident and content reassured me. I had done Helena no wrong luring her from her father's house. She had the knack of being able to return temporarily to this upper-class world without embarrassment, taking me with her. But although she must miss the comforts, she showed no trace of regret.

'Well, Marcus!' Her eyes were smiling in a way that made me take and kiss her hand. The gesture was acceptable in public, but must have spoken of far deeper intimacy.

'You have such great affection,' exclaimed Claudia impulsively. Alarmed by her mood our baby awoke, whimpering. Helena reached to take the child.

Justinus rose from his couch and came round behind his sister, to hug her and kiss her too. 'Claudia Rufina, we are a loving family,' he said wickedly. 'And now you are to join us – aren't you glad?'

'Be a pet,' Helena reproved him. 'While you're jumping about and making silly remarks, pop into Father's study and bring me his annual calendar.'

'Planning another party?'

'No. Showing Marcus that his best partner is the one who lives with him.'

'Marcus knows that,' I said.

The senator had an expensive set of the Official Year in Rome: all the dates of all the months, marked with a C for when the Comitia could be in session, F for days when general public business was allowed and N for public holidays. Bad luck days had their black marks. All the fixed festivals, and all the Games, were named. Decimus had sweetly added to the almanac his wife's and children's birthdays, his own, and those of his favourite sister and a couple of well-off ones (who might remember him in their wills if he kept in with them). The latest addition in the blackest ink, which Helena pointed out to me, was the day when Julia Junilla had been born.

Helena Justina read all the way through in silence. Then she looked up and surveyed me with a stern gaze. 'You know why I'm doing this?'

I looked meek, but made sure I demonstrated I could think too. 'You're wondering about what Lollius said.'

Naturally Claudia and Justinus wanted to know who Lollius was and what he had pronounced upon. I told them, keeping it as tasteful as possible. Then while Claudia shuddered and Justinus looked grave Helena gave her opinion. 'There must be well over a hundred public holidays annually, and a good fifty formal festivals. But the festivals are spread throughout the year whereas your brother-in-law said there were special times for finding these women's remains. I think the connection is the Games. Lollius said they find bodies in April – well, there are the Megalensis Games for Cybele, the Games of Ceres, and then the Floral Games, all in that month. The next big concentration is in July…'

'Which he also mentioned.'

'Quite. That's when we have the Apolline Games starting the day before the Nones, and later the Games for the Victories of Caesar which last for a whole ten days.'

'It all fits. Lollius maintains there is another bad time in the autumn.'

'Well, September has the great Roman Games lasting fifteen days, and then at the beginning of next month are the Games in memory of Augustus followed at the end of October by the Games for the Victories of Sulla.'

'And the Plebeian Games in November,' I reminded her. I had spotted them earlier when squinting over her shoulder. 'Trust a republican!'

'Trust a plebeian,' I said.

'But what does this mean?' demanded Claudia excitedly. She thought we had solved the whole case.

Justinus threw back his neatly shorn head and regarded the smoke-stained moulded Plaster of the ceiling. 'It means that Marcus Didius has found himself an excellent excuse to spend much of the next two months enjoying himself in the sporting arenas of our great city – all the while calling it work.'

But I shook my head sadly. 'I only work when somebody pays me, Quintus.'

Helena shared my mood. 'Besides, there would be no point in Marcus hanging around the Circus when he still has no idea who or what he should be looking for.'

That sounded like most of the surveillance work I ever did.