'Yes, sir. At once, sir.' Stiff as hell: Bathyllus's standards don't allow for serving Setinian to dock hands. Still, from Zea to the Hippades Gate was quite a walk, unless he'd hitched a lift on a wagon, and the guy's tongue would be trailing the marble. 'Do I take it, then, sir, that you'll be going straight out again?'
'Got it in one, Bathyllus. You win the nuts.' I sank another quarter pint: if I had to go all the way to the Piraeus and back, even by carriage, I needed to get tanked up first. Especially if I was meeting Tiny. 'Is the mistress around, by the way?'
'No, sir. She's visiting her friend Euelpida, as I understand.'
Nestor's latest victim. I grinned, wondering if she'd taken the ivory plaque with her. I hoped so: Euelpida needed as much fun out of life as she could get. 'Okay. Just say to her when she gets back not to hold dinner.'
'Very well, sir.' Bathyllus oiled out. I'd been counting those 'sirs' and I made it five. The little guy was seriously miffed.
'Now.' I waved Bessus to a chair. 'Tell me.'
'He's camping out in one of the old trireme sheds.'
'Yeah?' That made sense. The Zea sheds might've been out of commission for the past two hundred years, but they were a dosser's dream. If he could get into them, that was. 'I thought these places were kept locked up. They're still government-owned, aren't they?'
'Sure.' Bessus shrugged. 'But he'd broken off the padlock. And who cares, these days? Most of the sheds are empty.'
Yeah, that was true. Ninety percent of the Piraeus trade went through the main harbour on the other side of the peninsula. Even let out as warehouses the sheds wouldn't be at a premium.
Bathyllus came with the extra cup and I filled it. Bessus downed the Setinian in one while the little guy fizzed.
'Lysias says he's ready when you are, sir,' he said.
'That's good.' I poured out two more belts and gave Bathyllus the jug. 'Put that into a travelling flask, would you, sunshine? And wrap up a sausage or two and a bit of bread while you're at it. We may get peckish on the way.'
'Peckish, sir. Indeed, sir.'
That made it eight. A record. He left, radiating disapproval, while I went through to the study to restock my purse. First the carriage drivers, now the stevedores' guild. This was getting serious: if I wasn't careful the Roman aristocracy would lose their reputation for exploiting the provincials.
We set off for the Piraeus.
Even if I'd known Tiny was living in one of the trireme sheds finding him wouldn't have been easy, because there were a good two hundred of the buggers, stretching all the way round the harbour. Bessus led me to one of the last in the line, not far from the harbour gates. It was big – it would have to be, to take four warships plus their tackle – and access from the land side was by a heavy wooden door fastened with iron bolts and a padlock. Or rather, the door should've been fastened; the padlock was missing and the bolts were drawn. Uh-huh. So either Tiny was in residence or he hadn't bothered to lock up when he left.
I looked round carefully before we went in. The harbour area wasn't exactly deserted, but as far as I could see there was no obvious candidate for a tail. Which didn't mean much. Sure, we'd probably given Memnon the slip with our fast turnaround, but that didn't mean to say we were running free: Felix would've had the house watched as well, and by a face I didn't know. Maybe Demetriacus, too, if his alibi was pure moonshine and he was our villain after all.
The big guy wasn't at home. Oh, we'd got the right place, that was sure: almost immediately behind the door in the space reserved for tackle was a homemade brazier and a truckle bed with a rough blanket on top. Two earthenware bowls stood on the floor beside the bed, one filled with water, one with scraps of meat. Of course: Tiny had had a dog. I remembered the dog. There was nothing else, not so much as a spare undershirt.
'Lord, I'm sorry.' Bessus was frowning. 'He must've spotted me after all.'
'Yeah.' A pity, but like I said it couldn't be helped. He'd be back.
Those drawn bolts, though...
Maybe the cupboard was bare, but I had the feeling we were being watched. Not a pleasant feeling, either. I peered into the shadowy interior of the shed where the triremes themselves had been. Enough light was coming in through the gaps the builders had left between the roof joists to see by, but he could've been hiding anywhere; behind a pillar, maybe, or in one of the niches that lined the walls. Or just lying flat and motionless on one of the quays. Empty though it was, the place was big enough for even Tiny to hide in. Not that I was going to go looking for him. No way. I hated hide and seek even as a kid, and just the thought of that huge mad guy jumping out on me gave me goose-bumps.
'Hey, Tiny!' I shouted. 'You there?'
I waited until the echoes died away. Finally. I felt the hairs crawl on my scalp. Something was listening, sure, I knew that in my gut. The problem was, in that place it could've been just that: something. I found myself hoping the silence wouldn't be broken by the splash of oars...
This was silly. I was being too imaginative for my own good. I tried again.
'Tiny! Remember me? The Roman in the cookshop? I want to talk to you. About a statue you moved for your pal Smaragdus.' Again I waited. Nothing but echoes, and the feeling of eyes. Beads of sweat broke out on my forehead. 'Hey, Tiny! There's no need to be frightened, pal! No hassle, I promise!'
Still nothing, but the echoes whispered. My throat constricted. Okay, I was spooking myself here unnecessarily, I knew that, it wasn't rational...
What the hell. Suddenly I knew that Baker or not, pride or not, I had to get out.
'You want to call it a day, Bessus?' I said as casually as I could manage.
He gave me a sharp look and shrugged his shoulders. 'Your decision, lord.'
I swallowed. 'Fine. We'll give it just one more try, okay?' I owed that, at least, to my self-respect, especially since it seemed I was the only one doing the sweating. This time I had to work to keep my voice from cracking.
'Tiny! You know Bessus here! If you don't want to talk with me now then that's fine, that's okay, just fix a meeting up with him. Any time, any place, I'll be there.' Jupiter! I was babbling. Fix up a meeting, nothing: from what I'd seen of the guy I'd back his dog against him intellectually any day. Still, what else could I do?
Get out, that was what. Before the echoes had properly died down I was moving towards the door, trying to keep from running. Telling myself I was acting like a five year old didn't help, either.
I made it without a whimper. Just. Fresh air had never tasted sweeter. I leaned against the door jamb and breathed deeply.
Bessus was behind me. He was still looking at me like I'd turned purple and sprouted feathers.
'You okay, lord?' he said anxiously.
'Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine.' I wondered what he was seeing in my face. Ah, the hell with it: madness I just couldn't take, especially when it was hiding in the dark. Fumbling in my purse, I took a gold piece out and handed it to him. 'Here. With my thanks.'
He stared at it. 'That's too much,' he said. 'Far too much. Tiny wasn't there.'
'Sure he was.' I was breathing easier now, but I still wouldn't've gone back inside that shed for a dozen jars of Caecuban. 'And you'll earn it. Or at least I hope you will. I want this place watched, day and night, until the guy comes out. And if you can get him to me or me to him, then the pay's doubled. You understand?'
'Sure.' He looked uncomfortable. 'But I told you before. Tiny doesn't do nothing he doesn't want to.'
'That's your problem, pal. Even so, I have to see him and I'm not going inside there again. Keep in touch, okay?'
I left him standing and walked back to where Lysias had parked the carriage. I wasn't feeling too proud of myself, and the trip had been less than satisfactory all round, but I didn't see how else I could've played things. If Tiny had been there – and even now when I was out and half-way rational again I'd bet he had been, and heard every word – I'd at least left a message. Now it was up to him and Bessus.
And t
o Argaius's killer, whoever he was. We could've been seen going in to that shed, sure we could; there were enough places for a watcher to hide round about the harbour, especially if the watcher wasn't a familiar face. Beggars can't be choosers but I just hoped I hadn't made a mistake.
36 .
I was shattered when I got back. Reaction, probably. Perilla was in, but I skipped dinner and went straight to bed. I didn't even stop for a cup of wine, which shows you how far gone I was.
I woke up early the next morning feeling great and slipped downstairs without disturbing Perilla: a sweet lady she may be in many ways, but morning person she isn't, and if she doesn't get her eight hours and wake natural the whole world suffers.
Bathyllus was up and around, though, and I got him to bring me breakfast in the garden. While I mopped up olive oil with my bread I ran over the current state of the case. For what it was worth.
First, the Baker itself. That we'd only have one crack at. I was pretty sure Tiny knew where it was hidden, but he was the only one left alive who did and I hoped to hell the next time I saw him wouldn't be as a stiff on the boat shed floor. Baker aside, any more corpses I could do without.
Who our villain was was less clear-cut. Alibi or not, my money was still on Demetriacus, however much of a shining light of his profession the guy's doctor was. He was the only candidate who accounted for all the facts, and a six-figure-value block of property would be a pretty good exchange for one little lie. Fortunately, that was one avenue I could check: Demetriacus might have Lysimachus in his pocket, but he'd also have slaves who'd know damn well where their master had been on the night in question. What was more, they'd be willing to tell me for less than the price of a City tenement.
On the other hand, if you took things differently and allowed for a few ragged edges (which might not even be ragged edges) then my pal Felix made a good second runner. Maybe even a scrape-home first. The guy was devious as a Market Square lawyer, he'd been after the Baker from the start, and he was totally devoted to his boss's interests. Yeah, I could believe in Felix. Except that his way of getting the statue wouldn't've included murder, especially multiple murder: one death Felix might regard as unavoidable, but three he'd see as downright sloppy workmanship. Felix was a con artist, not a killer. Demetriacus was different. That bastard was capable of killing, although when he did it'd be a carefully-chosen means to a definite end with all sorts of backups in place.
Yeah. Judging purely by temperament, even from what I'd seen of him I'd go for Demetriacus over Felix every time.
Maybe.
I sighed. What I wanted was both Felix and Demetriacus together, and that I couldn't have...
Or could I?
I stopped, an olive half way to my mouth. Okay. So let's let that one go and see how it runs. Demetriacus wouldn't want the statue for himself: he was a businessman, not an end-user, and he'd still need a customer. Felix was a natural. Say that Demetriacus approaches Felix, who he knows from any of a dozen different sources is interested in the statue. Or no, scrub 'interested': desperate. And as such not too choosey how he gets it. Yeah, that might fit, just. So when Smaragdus stages his double-cross the two join forces. Felix pretends to Smaragdus that he's on his side and...
No, that wouldn't do. For a start it only avoided Felix being involved in one of the murders, Argaius's, and I was still left with the problem of the doctor. Anyway, why should Felix 'pretend' anything?
Unless he was staging his own double-cross. Of Demetriacus this time. Only Demetriacus was wise to it and sent his agent Prince Charming to cut the corner. But then...
'Good morning, Marcus. Are you intending to eat that olive or just stare it to death?'
'Uh...morning, Perilla.' I put the olive down guiltily. 'Sorry, I was thinking. Neither. Maybe I'll just let it live.'
'Fine.' She kissed me. 'I take it you slept well.'
'Like a log.'
'So I noticed.' She sat down and reached for the rolls and honey. 'If logs snore. How's the investigation proceeding?'
'It isn't.'
'Nonsense.'
'Believe it. I've got two suspects and they're going round each other like a pair of kids' tops. That's to say if they aren't both part of the same top to begin with.'
'Now that really is nonsense.'
I helped myself to a roll. 'The killer has to be Demetriacus. Only it can't be if you believe his doctor Lysimachus because he wasn't at the Scallop to talk to Melanthus who's his only link with the Baker and who ends up that same evening with his throat slit by Prince Charming.'
'Pardon?'
'Or alternatively the villain's our old pal Felix aka Eutyches, working for Gaius in Rome. Only it can't be him either, because when push comes to shove twisted as the little bastard is I can't believe he'd stoop to murder. Not the Argaius kind, anyway. Nor Harpalus's. Let alone cutting that poor bastard Melanthus's throat, which makes no fucking sense at all.'
'Don't swear. There's no excuse for it even if you do feel frustrated.'
'I'll swear if I like, lady. And that was mild.'
'I'm also not particularly taken with snarling at breakfast.' Perilla dipped her roll in the honey. 'If there are difficulties with both then why need it be either? It could be someone else entirely.'
Oh, great! Marvellous! Just the help I needed! 'Jupiter, Perilla, there is no one else! Unless you think old Alciphron up at the Academy killed them all because their library books were overdue. Or maybe Melanthus didn't talk to Demetriacus after all. Maybe he popped out for a chat with Tiny and they fell out over a definition of beauty and the nature of the fucking soul.' I sat back and balled up my napkin ready to throw it into the rose bed...
I didn't do it. I didn't do it because suddenly everything shifted sideways, the sun came out and I knew beyond a doubt who the killer was. Somewhere, somebody coughed. I looked up.
'I'm sorry to disturb you, sir.' Bathyllus. And he had on his peeved prude look.
'Uh, yeah. Yeah, little guy,' I murmured. Gods! What an idiot! The answer was obvious! 'What is it?'
'You have a visitor.'
'A visitor?' I tried to get my brain back into kilter. What passed for my brain. 'At this hour of the morning?'
'Yes, sir. He sends his apologies, but he says it's important and he must see you.'
'Okay. So are you going to divulge the guy's name or do we get three guesses?'
'That won't be necessary, sir.' A sniff. 'The gentleman's name is Demetriacus.'
Perilla said something, but it didn't register. Demetriacus. Sure it was, it couldn't be anyone else. And if I was right then his business was important as hell; though why he'd decided to come now, and to me rather than Callippus, I didn't know...
'Marcus?'
'Hmm?'
'I asked if you were all right.' Perilla was staring at me, and she looked worried.
'Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine. More than fine. Excuse me a minute, will you?'
I got up and followed Bathyllus inside. Demetriacus was sitting in the guest chair. He wasn't alone. Behind him stood Antaeus, glaring at me like Megaera the Fury watching Orestes put on his running shoes. Uh-oh. This might be tricky.
'Corvinus.' Demetriacus was looking grey. 'I'm sorry to disturb you so early, but since our talk I've been doing a lot of thinking.'
I nodded. 'And you've decided to come clean after all.'
He gave me a sharp look. Antaeus rippled.
'I told no lies.'
'I never said you did, friend.' I took the chair opposite. Slowly, and with both eyes on Antaeus. Shit, I wished I had my knife in its wrist sheath, but you don't expect to need that kind of insurance in your own home, especially over the breakfast porridge. 'All you're guilty of is being economical with the truth and trusting your staff too much.'
Antaeus shifted again. He was the bastard I had to watch: one word from his boss and, own home or not, I'd be dead meat before I could whistle.
Demetriacus was silent for a long time. Then he said quietly: 'You know wha
t I came to say already, don't you?'
'Yeah, I know.'
'But not quite everything, I think. Hermippe isn't "staff".. She's my sister. Stepsister, rather. We had different mothers.'
I sat back as the last piece slid into place. Sister. That explained a lot. Come to that, it explained the whole bag. 'I didn't get that impression when we talked at the Scallop.'
'And I didn't intend that you should. I told you before, I don't like needless complications. Our relationship isn't common knowledge outwith the family; not even the girls know. Nor is it relevant to anything.' He paused. 'Or hasn't been, up to now. Which is why I am giving you the information.'
Bathyllus was hovering. I sent him for a jug of wine. 'You're partners? In the Scallop?'
'Yes. We always have been, since Melanthus sold it to us. And equal partners in all other respects as far as business is concerned.' Demetriacus paused again. 'Unofficially, of course. Hermippe's name doesn't appear on any deeds. It's unfortunate that our society won't tolerate a woman in business. Not in the higher reaches, that is; which was another reason for not making the relationship widely known.'
'You mean she's the brains and you're the front?'
'I wouldn't put it quite so crudely. We have our different strengths and weaknesses, and they balance each other. Hence our success. But Hermippe is certainly the driving force. The ruthless one, the risk-taker. My role is to implement her recommendations and follow them through. To be her public persona, if you like to call it that.'
'Uh-huh.' Check. That fitted in with what Callippus had told me. 'She certainly struck me as...full-blooded, shall we say.'
'Why not? It's a good phrase.' Demetriacus looked down at his carefully-manicured fingernails. 'Hermippe has always had greater appetites than I. In every way. Also she's much more intelligent.'
Yeah, well, maybe. Or it could be her intelligence just took a different slant. Certainly she had a high opinion of her own cleverness: one got you ten Perilla had been right about the Ptolemy statue.
'Don't put yourself down too much, friend,' I said. 'It's bad for the male image.'
The Lydian Baker (Marcus Corvinus Book 4) Page 23
