'He could simply be distancing himself from Melanthus's disappearance. You said he was anxious to preserve his reputation and the reputation of his brothel. And if Melanthus did leave early that evening then their relationship is irrelevant.'
'He didn't.'
'Marcus, you don't know that! Hermippe stated categorically that he did.'
'Hermippe was lying. Demetriacus as good as told her to.'
'And you think Melanthus is still there?'
'Where else would he be?' I chewed on a liver meatball. 'The Scallop's perfect for him. Cotile said Demetriacus has a private suite which the rest of the staff aren't allowed into and which, of course, Demetriacus doesn't normally use because he's got a house of his own. Melanthus would know about that, plus all the other ins and outs of the place. And I'd give my eye teeth to see inside it because one gets you ten that's where the bastard's hiding.'
'Corvinus.' Perilla set the chicken wing down. 'You cannot break into a private house. Certainly not on the grounds of mere suspicion.'
'I don't have to. Callippus will listen to me now if for no other reason than the original bill of sale for the Scallop has to be on record. Which will prove that Demetriacus was lying when he said he didn't know Melanthus. And if he lied about that the bastard could be lying about everything else.'
Perilla sighed. 'Not necessarily; as I said, he might simply be concerned for his reputation.'
'Okay.' I emptied my wine cup and refilled it. 'Let's theorise and see where it takes us. Starting four years back, which is as long as the Scallop's been in operation. Melanthus is a respected philosopher, but he's no ivory-tower academic: he's got an itch in his pants and he likes to scratch it, only discreetly and in civilised surroundings. So when he inherits his uncle's house he sells it to Demetriacus. Or maybe he doesn't sell it. Maybe the two of them go into partnership and set up a cathouse that Melanthus can patronise in the long term without worrying about stories going the rounds. Sound reasonable?'
'Reasonable, yes. Convincing, no.'
'Come on, lady! It would work. And I've been inside the place, remember. It's got style, and you don't buy that, not easily. Whoever planned the decor was no cut-price hack from the Potters' Quarter.'
'Really, Corvinus?' Perilla smiled sweetly. 'And since when have you been an expert on art?'
I ignored her. 'Melanthus is sitting pretty. He's got the house of his dreams stacked with high-class art and high-class whores, and because he has a deal with the owner he can use it as often as he likes. That's another thing: the guy may be comfortably off, but a visit to the Scallop costs an arm and a leg. Twice a month or more regular would bankrupt him in a year. Whereas if he were a partner he'd actually be making on the deal.'
'Unless he was taking his share in kind, of course.'
I almost dropped the winecup. 'Lady, I'm shocked. Sometimes I wonder about the level of your moral education.'
She grinned. 'Just an observation, and not an unnatural one. You'll also have noticed, by the way, that I haven't asked you how you come to know about the Scallop's charges.'
'Uh...yeah.' I reached for the wine jug. 'Yeah. Fair point. Now. Demetriacus. What does he get out of the arrangement? According to –'
'I mean, is there an itemised price list? Or perhaps a general service charge? Or do you simply –?'
'Jupiter, lady!' The Setinian splashed over my hand. 'Cut that out right now! This is serious!'
'I'm sorry.' She sipped her fruit juice. 'Of course it is. You were saying. Demetriacus.'
'Right.' I finished pouring and took a swallow. 'According to Cotile the guy's got social ambitions. He's a hick from Paphos who wants to shine in high society, and knowing Melanthus is the best thing that's ever happened to him. Demetriacus might have money, but he's got no culture...'
'Why on earth shouldn't he be cultured just because he's an immigrant? And Melanthus isn't a proper Athenian himself. He's an Asian Greek.'
I sighed. 'Perilla, you know how things work here. Demetriacus is in trade; he peddles olive oil and bodies for a living. So ipso facto, money or not, as far as the cream are concerned he's an intellectual pygmy. And if he does happen genuinely to know his Aristotle from his Epicurus he's an upstart poser educated beyond his station and gets snubbed anyway. Whichever way he plays it, he loses hands down. Except for one way.'
'And that is?'
'The same method Ptolemy used when he built his gym. Or any other rich outsider you like to name these past three hundred years who wants to be persona grata on the Rock. He becomes a euergetes. You know what that means?'
'Corvinus, my Greek is better than yours. Of course I know. A public benefactor.'
'Right. So he goes to his pal Melanthus and asks him how best to do it, because Melanthus knows the ropes. And Melanthus tells him.'
'Tells him what?'
'He tells him about the Baker.'
There was a long silence while Perilla thoughtfully shelled a quail's egg and dipped it in fish sauce.
'That's quite ingenious,' she said at last. 'I'm impressed.'
I took a smug swallow of Setinian. 'It's a marriage made in heaven. Demetriacus has the money, Melanthus has the know-how. The perfect partnership. From Melanthus's side, the statue stays in Greece where it belongs, safe from the grasp of filthy materialistic Romans like poor old Priscus. Meanwhile, Demetriacus gets the kudos of having discovered a lost Greek treasure and gifted it to his adopted city. Where they might have sneered if he'd just built them yet another flashy porch to hang their pictures in, the Athenian culture-vultures lap the guy up and ask him to dinner.'
'Fine,' Perilla said. 'But there is just one small problem.'
'Yeah? And what's that?'
'Demetriacus didn't buy the statue. If what you're suggesting is correct then he would have openly bid against Priscus and acquired it legitimately.'
'He probably started off that way, sure. The two partners invented a single fictitious bidder called Eutyches...'
'Why should they do that? If the transaction was intended to be above board then it wouldn't be necessary, surely.'
'How the hell should I know?' I said. 'Maybe Melanthus was embarrassed about two-timing my stepfather. Or maybe they just wanted the gift to be a surprise.'
'Oh.' Perilla shelled another quail's egg. 'Oh, I see.'
Uh-oh. I hated it when she went demure on me. It meant I'd gone out on a limb somewhere and she had the saw ready and waiting.
'You got a problem with that?' I said.
'No. I was just making another silly observation. Ignore it, please. Carry on.'
'Okay.' I gave her a suspicious look, but she was dipping the egg. 'So. They approach Argaius. Only then Demetriacus – or maybe it was Melanthus – has a better idea. Five foot solid gold statues don't come cheap, and even Demetriacus is no Ptolemy. Both guys have expensive lifestyles to support, and a legitimate purchase would knock a hole in their savings you could sail a trireme through. Especially when there's no material return on the investment. So they decide to cut the corner. "Eutyches" invites Argaius to a meeting on Mounychia and Demetriacus has his Paphian sidekick Prince Charming lift the guy on the way in the hopes of persuading him to let the statue go for the asking. Only by that time Argaius's partner Smaragdus has pulled his double-cross, the Baker is missing again and our pair of public benefactors are in the sewer up to their eyeballs. Worse, a nosey Roman bastard called Valerius Corvinus is raising hell with the local militia and as a result half the partnership is a prime candidate for official scrutiny. Melanthus goes to ground at the Scallop while his pal runs round in circles trying to pick up the pieces.' I paused. 'How am I doing, Aristotle?'
'Very well,' Perilla said. 'There is just one small thing that puzzles me, though.'
'Sure. Spit it out.'
'A legitimately-bought gift to the city I could understand; but don't you think the Athenian authorities would be a little apprehensive about accepting a statue obviously acquired by skulduggery?'
; 'Uh...' Damn. 'Maybe. Put like that, I suppose...'
'Not to mention subsequent murder, kidnapping, grievous bodily harm...'
'Perilla...'
'Just a suggestion.'
'Yeah. Yeah, thanks. Point taken.'
Perilla leaned over and kissed me. 'Eat your dinner, Marcus,' she said. 'It'll all work out eventually.'
I bit savagely into a chicken leg. Ah, hell. She was right, of course. About the skulduggery angle, anyway. The Athenian governing class might turn a blind eye in public, sure, if it meant getting the Baker, but privately was another matter, and the private aspect was what Demetriacus was interested in. When the news got around the City's Beautiful and Good that the guy was a crook he'd've been lucky to find an invitation to the opening of the latest sewer branch line hitting his doormat, let alone a ticket for the archon's birthday bash. Still, I was on the right track, I knew I was. And whatever his reasons the bastard had been lying; Perilla couldn't get past that.
Nailing him for it, however, was another matter. I couldn't do that alone; I hadn't the authority.
Next day I'd have to go round and make my peace with Callippus.
28.
He had company when I arrived. Well, maybe that was all to the good: at least he'd have to throw me out politely.
'Corvinus.' Not a smile. Callippus was evidently still gravely peeved. 'I was just going to send for you. Take a seat, please.'
Uh-oh. So it was rap-over-the-knuckles time right enough. I pulled up a chair.
'Hey,' I said. 'I'm sorry about landing you in it the other day, but –'
'This is Beryllus. He's an officer from the Melitides Gate station.' The other guy – he was standing – gave me a nod. 'There've been developments. The Melitides lads have found a body.'
A cold finger touched my spine. Oh, no! Not Cotile! I shouldn't've let her go back, especially in my carriage. These things get noticed.
'Luckily Melanthus of Abdera's description was passed out to all the stations in the city.' Callippus still looked serious as hell. 'Melitides were able to identify him and get in touch right away.'
My brain went numb. Shit. It was impossible.
'Melanthus?' I said. 'The corpse was Melanthus's?'
'We're fairly certain of that, sir.' Beryllus turned to me. 'Although it had been lying for some time. Naturally we're contacting his household for confirmation.'
'He was found by a courting couple late yesterday evening under some bushes on the Hill of the Nymphs.' Callippus was looking at the wall a foot past my left ear.
Oh, shit! Oh, Jupiter Best and Greatest! I shook my head to clear it. 'How long did you say he'd been there?'
'Three or four days, at least, from the condition of the body. It's a pretty out-of-the-way spot.' Beryllus's lips twisted into a grin. 'Hence the courting couple.'
'And this is the fifth day since Melanthus of Abdera disappeared.' Callippus stood up. 'Very well, Beryllus. You can go. Keep me informed.' The guy nodded and went out. Callippus waited until the door closed behind him. 'Corvinus, I ought to lock you up and throw the key away. If I could, I would, believe me.'
I was still in shock. 'Hey, come on, pal! Just because –'
'You've taken considerable pains to besmirch the name of one of Athens's most prominent citizens while all the time that citizen has been lying murdered under a bush at the edge of town. You've wasted official senior Watch time on fruitless wild goose chases in the course of which you've done your best on no grounds whatsoever to throw suspicion on other innocent citizens. You've behaved throughout in a boorish, high-handed and completely irresponsible manner which personally I find totally reprehensible. And you have the gall to come back this morning and off- handedly apologise for "landing me in it".'
'Uh...yeah.' Well, he had a point: maybe I had screwed things up a little in places.
'Exactly. That response sums you up.' He sat down and pulled a pile of reports towards him. 'Now I have work to do even if you haven't. As far as I'm concerned the case is closed. Melanthus of Abdera was attacked and killed by footpads and his body dumped. Can I say, however, that had we not, on your advice, wasted time and effort in trying to trace the living man we might have found the body before and had a chance of bringing his killers to justice. As it is, that is about as likely as your own chances of setting foot in this office again so long as I am Watch Commander. Now good day to you. Please ask my clerk to step in as you leave.'
I didn't move: I was getting pretty angry myself now.
'Okay,' I said. 'Sure. After you've explained one or two things. First. What the hell was Melanthus doing on the Hill of the Nymphs? Like you say, it's on the edge of town, and if he was jumped on his way home from the Scallop then he was going in the wrong fucking direction.'
'That was only where the body was found.' Callippus was glaring at me. 'He could have been killed anywhere. And, Valerius Corvinus, I will not have gutter language used in this station!'
'Yeah, okay. I'm sorry.' I swallowed hard. 'But just answer me this. You say Melanthus was killed by footpads. How many Athens muggers do you know who'll take the trouble to drag a corpse half across town after they've had the guy's purse off him?' I saw his eyes shift. 'His purse was missing, wasn't it?'
'That's beside the point.'
'You mean you don't know? Jupiter, Callippus, I thought you were supposed to be the professional here!'
'That is..!'
'And one more thing. I'd bet a rotten sardine to the whole of the City treasury that the guy's throat was cut.'
His hand slammed down on the desk between us. 'Now that is enough! I will not have my professional standards brought into question by anyone, least of all a Roman dilettante like yourself!'
'If it's necessary then someone has to do it, pal! And calling names won't get you off the hook either. I'm right about the cause of death, aren't I?'
He took a deep breath: angry Callippus might be, but even angry the guy was fair.
'Very well,' he said at last. 'Yes, Melanthus of Abdera did die from a severed throat. Which is not uncommon in these cases. And no, I do not know whether his purse was missing. But now that you've been so kind as to point out to me the gap in my knowledge I will remedy it forthwith.'
'You do that, sunshine. And while you're about it you might send someone down to the records office and check a bill of sale.'
That stopped him. 'What bill of sale?'
'A property transfer, dated about four years back. Between Melanthus of Abdera and your friend Demetriacus.'
There was a long silence. 'For the Scallop?' he said at last.
'For the Scallop. The house used to belong to Melanthus. He inherited it from his uncle, and he sold it to Demetriacus.'
'You're sure of this?'
'Hundred per cent concrete certain.' Now was no time for fudging.
I'd got him. Sure I had. 'But Demetriacus said he didn't know Melanthus.'
'He was lying. They've been bosom buddies ever since the Scallop started.'
'Corvinus, if this is another of your half-baked suppositions...'
'Just check, okay? That's all I'm asking.'
He gave me a level stare. Then he got up and opened the door.
'Critias!'
The clerk came in. He gave me a nervous look: the party walls in these government offices are pretty thin.
'Go round to Property Records,' Callippus told him. 'You're looking for a deed of sale to a house near Ptolemy's Gymnasium, date about four years ago, seller Melanthus of Abdera, buyer Demetriacus son of Demetrius. I want to know at once if and when you find it.' He looked at me. 'Especially if you don't. You've got that?'
The clerk had been scribbling the details down on his notepad. 'Yes, sir.'
'Do it now.' The guy left and Callippus closed the door gently behind him. 'Corvinus,' he said, 'I swear that this is the last time I listen to you, you understand? And if by any chance Critias doesn't find that deed...'
He left the sentence hanging, but the sense
was clear. Sure it was. I just hoped Cotile had her facts right.
'He will,' I said. 'And if he does you'll have another talk with Demetriacus?'
'Perhaps.'
'Jupiter on wheels!'
'Very well. Yes.' He held up his hand. 'But I do it alone.'
'Oh, come on, pal! I've just given you the information!'
'For which I'm grateful. If, that is, it proves to have any substance. Even so this is official Watch business, and as an ordinary citizen – an honorary ordinary citizen – you have no rights in the matter.'
'Okay.' I swallowed; no point in pushing the guy too far. 'Point taken. I'm asking you as a favour to let me tag along. And I give you my solemn word this time there'll be no hassle.'
'Corvinus...'
'You want to bring in a portable altar? Or should I take a quick trip down to the temple of Zeus Herkeios and bring back a notarised statement?'
His lips twisted; like I say, deep down Callippus was an okay guy. 'No. No, that won't be necessary.' He paused. 'I have your word?'
'Absolutely.'
'All right.' He moved the reports back to the side of his desk. 'Now. How did you come by this information of yours?'
'Cotile told me.'
'I thought Hermippe said you were with...Cleo, wasn't it?'
'Don't be prissy, Callippus! Cotile was the first girl I talked to. While I was waiting to speak to Hermippe that first visit to the Scallop. Cotile came round to my place off her own bat last night, and since then I've been doing some thinking.'
'As a result of which you've decided Demetriacus is guilty after all?'
'Uh...well...'
He sighed. 'Come on, Corvinus! If I'm going to interview the man I need all the ammunition I can get. Even if it does derive from half-baked supposition.'
I grinned 'Okay. Although I may have to modify the original theory a little now.'
'Modify away.'
'Right.' I settled back in my chair. 'I think Demetriacus and Melanthus were partners. Demetriacus wanted to break into society and Melanthus suggested the best way to do it was to buy the Baker and present it to the city. Only Demetriacus had other ideas. He cut the corner and had his pal Prince Charming kidnap Argaius.' I paused. 'Prince Charming's a Paphian, by the way. Did I tell you I'd found that out?'
The Lydian Baker (Marcus Corvinus Book 4) Page 18
