by Gary Corby
“I have received no orders, sir,” the slave said.
“Where are the mourners?” Diotima asked.
The slave blinked at her. “There are none.”
“None?” Diotima almost screeched. Such a thing was unheard of.
“Oh, everyone came to pay their respects, as is proper,” the slave hurried to correct himself. “That was on the first day, and you saw the priests come to prepare him. Since then, there has been no one.”
“I shall speak to the High Priest,” Diotima said firmly.
“Thank you, mistress.” The slave bobbed his head.
“What happens to you now?” I asked him.
“Only the gods know,” the slave replied. “I hope they don’t turn me out. I wouldn’t know what to do.”
“Surely someone here could use an extra pair of hands,” Diotima said. “I will enquire.”
“Thank you, mistress. I don’t cost much to feed.”
“What is your name?” I asked.
“Ekamandronemus.”
That stopped me. His name was a mouthful, even by our standards. Fortunately everyone has a short nickname that their friends use.
“Ah, then what do your friends call you?” I asked.
“Friends?” This was a new concept for the poor man. “Everyone calls me Ekamandronemus, sir.”
“Very well then, er . . . Ekam,” I said, choosing something swiftly. “May I call you Ekam?” I asked, and spoke on quickly before he could say no. “Ekam, we’re going to search your master’s office.”
“You have already done that, sir.”
“We’re going to do it again. Very thoroughly. Also every other room of this house until we find what we’re looking for.”
“And what is that, sir?”
“A keyhole.”
Ekam looked doubtful. “I have the master’s orders never to let anyone wander about in here.”
“That would be the dead master,” I pointed out.
We all three looked over at the body.
“I don’t think he’s likely to object,” I added. “Besides which, I and this lady, who incidentally is going to find you a new place to live, are searching for his killer.”
Ekam found this logic to be decisive. “I’m sure that’ll be fine then, sir. May I bring you refreshments?”
“No thank you,” I said. “We’ll be here a while, so leave us to it.”
“Yes, sir.”
Diotima added, “Ekam, why don’t you go make yourself a big meal? I am sure that Geros would have wanted you to eat your fill from whatever is in stores.”
“As to that, mistress, I have my doubts,” Ekam said. He returned to rubbing his hands and looking nervous.
“Nonsense,” Diotima said with complete assurance. “Why don’t you take my suggestion as a direct order?”
“Thank you, mistress.”
There was nothing in the office. I pulled everything away from walls, I moved the desk and the couches. I shifted chests. All we found was an ordinary office.
We moved downstairs to Geros’s bedroom, then the storerooms, the kitchen, the public rooms. Nowhere could we find a keyhole to try our mysterious key.
We were ready to give up, and leaving for the front door, when we passed a staircase that we had completely ignored.
We both stopped dead.
Diotima said, “How blind can we get? What about the women’s quarters?”
“How did we not think of this before?” I asked.
“Because not even the lowest, most unethical of criminals would store purloined goods in the place where the women live,” Diotima said. “It’s sacrosanct.”
“Except in a house with no women,” I said.
There was a door at the top of the stairs. In the door was a keyhole.
I handed the key to Diotima. “You do the honors, my dear.”
Diotima pushed in the key. She struggled to turn the handle, so I helped. The bar behind went up, the door opened to reveal Geros’s secret office.
Within was an exquisite desk, fine furniture, and rows of empty shelves.
“This makes perfect sense,” I said. “Any official visitor to do temple business, like Anaxinos, would be shown to Geros’s usual office. Normal men who visit another man’s home pass by the staircase up to the women’s quarters. It’s not the done thing to even notice it.”
I found a whole bundle of the dead man’s personal papers tied together with string. I handed these to Diotima and kept searching.
Diotima started reading. “There’s a letter here saying his funds have been deposited.”
“How much?”
“Thousands of drachmae, it seems.” Diotima read through the page. She put it down and read the next. “Here’s another deposit, for more thousands.”
Diotima flipped through the pages before her, her brow furrowed.
“What are you doing—”
“Shhh, I’m concentrating.” When she was finished she said, “These letters are all receipts for money received at the bank. I added the amounts and it comes to more than twenty thousand drachmae.”
“That’s more than three talents!” I said. “Who is his banker?”
Diotima sifted through the papers. “The Antisthenes and Archestratus Savings And Loan Company,” she said in shock.
“Well that explains a lot.”
Antisthenes and Archestratus were the two dodgiest bankers in all of Athens. We had had a run in with those two before.
Diotima picked up the next page. “Dear Gods, Nico, Geros owns an estate!”
“What?”
“It’s in Kyzikos.”
Geros had a coin from Kyzikos on his dead body. Karnon had told us Kyzikos was well inside the Persian Empire. I said, “That is very, very suggestive.”
“Isn’t it?” Diotima agreed.
But there was still the question of paying for it. I said, “This is ridiculous. No professional priest could possibly have enough money to own an estate.”
Diotima waved a piece of paper on which there was much writing. “This is a report from his estate manager.” She paused for thought, then said, “Maybe Geros inherited it?”
But I could think of another answer, and so could Diotima.
“We must face the certainty, my dear wife, that this priest of Apollo was as crooked as the keys they use around here.”
“I’m afraid you’re right. We knew right from the start that Geros was corrupt, but until now we didn’t know he was an outright thief.” She put down the papers, squared them into a neat pile, and put them in the box, which she handed to me. “These come with us.”
We had more than enough to convict Geros for corruption so severe that it would certainly result in his execution. The only problem was, he was already dead.
“This doesn’t make sense,” I said. “If anyone should be doing the killing around here, it’s Geros, to protect his secret life as an embezzler.”
“Maybe someone killed him in retribution for his crimes?” Diotima grabbed my arm. “Nico, the word NEMESIS was written above his body!”
“So it was,” I said. “But if someone wanted Geros dead for his crimes, then that must mean they knew about the crimes.”
“Yes, of course, that’s obvious,” Diotima said.
“Then all they had to do was tell the world. Geros would have been executed for sure.”
“Oh, you’re right,” Diotima said. “That almost implies that the killer didn’t know . . .” She sighed. “Why are these murder cases always so confusing?”
“That’s why they pay us the commissions.”
“They’re paying us for this?” Diotima sounded surprised.
My wife had just made a good point. Always in the past we had worked on a commission basis, but this time we had volunteered, in
the extreme circumstances. That meant one important thing . . .
“Curse it,” I said, “We’re doing this for free. I hadn’t realized up until this moment. I should have demanded something from Pericles.”
“Too late now,” my wife said. “Anyway, I’m the detective here, remember? This time, Nico, we’re on a mission for the Gods.”
“All right then, my detective wife, tell me what we have.”
Diotima lay back in Geros’s office couch. She shifted about until she felt comfortable. When she was settled, she began.
“We have a dead priest who everyone thinks was an upright man of the highest integrity, but who you proved was corrupt, and now we’ve proven was a thief and embezzler.”
I added, “Plus, everyone still thinks he was a highly moral man, except for the handful of us in the know.”
“Handful?” Diotima said. “Two. You and me.”
“And maybe the killer,” I said.
“Maybe.”
“And the soldiers who helped him,” I pointed out. “Which they almost certainly did. Geros and the guards . . . that’s the right combination for the thieving. I hope the guards were paid well, because if they ever show their faces in Hellas again they’ll be executed on the spot.”
There was a knock at the door. It was Ekam, the house slave. Now I knew why he looked so nervous.
“You knew this place was here, didn’t you?” I said.
“I was ordered never to say anything, sir.” Ekam rubbed his hands. It was a wonder the skin hadn’t fallen off. “A slave cannot disobey his master, can he?”
That was fair enough. “But once your master was dead you should have said something,” I told him.
“And admit to knowledge of crimes that I didn’t report, sir?” Ekam said. “How long would a slave like me last then?”
Ekam had a point. He was in an invidious position.
I saw he was shaking. “If you don’t mention it, neither will we,” I told him.
“Thank you, sir!” He looked most relieved.
“Tell me, what was on these shelves?” I asked. “They’re empty now.”
“I was never permitted to enquire, sir and lady,” Ekam said. “The master was quite secretive—”
“I can imagine.”
“But if you want my guess, they were some of the nicer items from the treasuries.”
That was my guess, too. “Do you know what happened to them?” I asked.
“I’m afraid not,” Ekam said. “Though if it’s any help, sir, I was never asked to move any of the items myself.”
“Your master didn’t trust you?” Diotima asked.
“I think perhaps my master had plans that didn’t include me,” he replied sadly.
Ekam disappeared, but then returned, bearing a tray of food, two cups, and a flask of wine. From the smell of his breath I had an idea that Ekam himself had been at Geros’s good wine, but I was fine with that.
“I know you said not to bring food, sir and lady, but I made something for myself, and I thought you might like a bite.”
We had been working long, and the aroma smelled wonderful. Ekam had done himself proud.
I handed a glass to Diotima and placed a bowl of figs beside her.
“He began the thefts years ago,” Diotima said. “They were small at first. He kept records. Then the thefts got larger.”
“When he discovered he could get away with it,” I said. “I bet you’ll find it all began after the wife died.”
“Why do you think that?” Diotima asked.
“Because you women tend to be the ones who hold the moral compass for us men.”
Diotima shrugged.
“What do we have on the financials?” I asked.
“We have thirty talents stolen from the League treasury. Maybe ten of these talents have been recovered from the graveyard. It looks like the remainder is with bankers in Athens.”
“And locked up in property in Kyzikos,” I added. “We need to talk to someone who knows something about investments.”
“Karnon is the only choice,” Diotima said at once.
“It would help if he weren’t one of the suspects,” I said. “How can we trust what he says?”
“Who else here would know about international property?” Diotima asked. “We certainly don’t.”
I thought about it. “Let’s try Pericles first,” I said. “Somehow I have a feeling he knows more about dodgy international transactions than he lets on. When he told me how to go about bribing Geros, it was like he was reciting a school lesson.”
“There’s a letter here of negotiation,” Diotima said flatly. “It’s recent. For a consignment of small statuaries.”
I didn’t like the sound of that. I walked over to the empty shelves. Sure enough, there was dust settled everywhere, but clean spaces in the shapes of squares, rectangles and circles. Just the right size to be the stands of small statuettes.
“What treasury would have so many statuettes?” I asked, but I already knew the answer to that.
“He’s cleaned out the Hyperborean Gifts,” Diotima said, and her voice was deeply depressed.
“We better not tell the Hyperboreans,” I said.
“They’ll find out soon enough.”
As we left, I thanked Ekam for his courtesy. I felt sorry for the poor friendless man with the difficult name. I could well understand why he’d broken into the wine stores. I said, “Also, Ekam, I know from experience that keeping vigil alone on a dead man can be a bit unnerving. I strongly suggest you take some more wine to strengthen your resolve. In fact, I insist on it.”
“Sir, are you ordering me to get drunk on my master’s best wine?”
“Why, yes, Ekam, I believe I am.”
He stood a little bit straighter and said, “I’ll do my best, sir.”
The Pericles Correction
Pericles was entertaining a visitor, which was fortunate because it was the other man we needed to speak to: Anaxinos. They sat in the command tent, wine by their side in what looked like a spirit of rapprochement. We pushed our way in, which was perfectly acceptable as Anaxinos had a couple of priestly assistants with him, and Pericles had Philipos.
Anaxinos was speaking as we entered. “. . . I have thought long upon this, Pericles, and I believe I can convince you to abandon this course.”
“I doubt that,” Pericles said. “But say on.”
“Then let me recall the terrible days of the last Persian invasion.”
“It was long ago. I was a child, then,” Pericles said.
“Yes, so was I,” Anaxinos agreed. “Your father Xanthippus was one of the great soldiers of that war.”
“I am proud to say that this is true.” Pericles noticeably puffed out his chest. Say what you like about Pericles’s flexible ethics, he was a patriot through and through.
Anaxinos nodded. “It is said that your father was the last man out of Athens when the enemy sacked the city.”
“That too is true,” Pericles said.
“They say that your father once crucified a Persian officer, for the crime of sacking a temple,” Anaxinos said. “Is this story also true?”
“It is,” Pericles confirmed. “It happened at Sestos, in Asia Minor, where there is holy ground nearby. The officer had taken for himself the sacred treasures therein.”
“Yet you seek to take the sacred treasures of Delos, an act for which your own father had once crucified an offender,” Anaxinos said mildly. “So I must ask you, Pericles, what would your father say, could he see you now?”
These words left Pericles speechless.
Anaxinos stood. “Well, I have made my observations. I must be getting back to my duties.”
“Before you leave, High Priest, there is something we must discuss . . .” Diotima’s voice trailed off.
“Yes?” Anaxinos cocked his head sideways and looked at Diotima in innocent expectation.
“Umm . . .” She obviously wasn’t sure how to begin. I knew that Diotima rather respected the High Priest; she didn’t want to upset him, but what she had to say was guaranteed to do that. “The thing is, High Priest, that we can prove that Geros, your lieutenant, has been systematically stealing large sums from the treasury.”
“Obviously you’re wrong,” Anaxinos said. “The idea is ludicrous.”
At the same time, Pericles said, “He’s the one who’s been stealing my money?”
Anaxinos said, “No, Pericles, these two young people have already proven that the guards stole the missing money.”
“The guards didn’t have a key,” Pericles said.
The differing reactions between the two leaders was interesting, but the conversation threatened to run at cross-purposes all day. I coughed to get their attention. “I’m sorry to tell you, Anaxinos, that with the evidence we have, any court and any jury in any city in Hellas would convict Geros.”
I proceeded to explain. When I demonstrated what we had found in Geros’s office, and when Diotima produced the damning papers, Anaxinos fell back heavily into the chair he had recently vacated. He couldn’t move until he had drained the wine cup that he had left behind.
“We’ll have to inspect every treasury,” I amended. “There’s no telling what Geros got into.”
“What am I to tell the priests?” Anaxinos muttered to himself.
“The truth?” I suggested.
“A truth that could destroy Delos!” Anaxinos exclaimed. “What use is piety when one of the highest can act like this?” He pulled himself up again. “I must think upon this news,” he said. “You must excuse me.”
The High Priest gestured to his followers, and they departed.
Pericles sat back down, and gestured for us to do so too. “There is something I must say to you,” he said.
“We have more for you, too, Pericles,” I told him.
“Thank you for bringing this news. It helps our case enormously, though I’m beginning to doubt if that’s a good thing,” Pericles said. Then he fell silent. He stayed that way for some time before conceding quietly to those of us left in the tent, “Anaxinos might be right when he says my father would not have approved of transferring the treasure. Yet my intelligence tells me that he is wrong. The arguments we brought with us from Athens are as true as ever. The problem is, when those right arguments are said out loud, they sound just a little too . . .”
