David Wishart - The Lydian Baker

'And getting him to tell you.' Perilla frowned. 'From what you say about this man I don't think you can count on that, Marcus.'

Yeah. I'd made that jump myself. With the best will in the world, the guy was still an idiot. Even if I did find him there was no guarantee I could even make him understand what I wanted. Still, with Smaragdus dead he was the only lead we'd got to the Baker, and without him we could wait another hundred years before it surfaced again. If it ever did.

There was another reason for finding Tiny, too: if I didn't, then sooner or later the opposition would. And when he got the guy into that damned cellar of his, wherever it was, I couldn't see Prince Charming asking nicely.

'So.' Perilla snuggled down 'What are your immediate plans?'

I filled my cup one-armed. 'We wait. There's nothing else we can do. I've got half Athens and the Piraeus on the payroll, and barring some sort of break we'll just have to hope they come through.'

Someone coughed. Bathyllus.

'I'm sorry to disturb you, sir. Madam. Meton reports a crisis. Dinner will be delayed.'

I sighed. A crisis in Meton's book was anything from a full-scale Parthian invasion with four legions massacred to the sauce curdling, in that ascending order. 'Okay, little guy. Just top up the wine jug and we'll sit it out in here.'

'Very well, sir.'

Perilla stayed quiet until he'd oozed off to the kitchen. Then she said: 'Of course, if you're not too concerned about the wine we could always look for a suitable knife.'

'Knife?'

'To put under the pillow.'

Uh-huh. I know when I'm being propositioned. We went upstairs.

We made love slowly while the crisis in the kitchen was resolved. When we'd finished Perilla nestled into the hollow of my shoulder.

'I never asked you,' she said. 'Why the perfume?'

Uh-oh. 'What perfume's that?'

'The bottle you brought me yesterday. What was it for?'

'Nothing in particular. It just seemed a good idea at the time.'

'Really?' I felt her smile. 'I thought it might be an indication of guilt or something.'

'Guilt?'

'I did say "or something".' She reached up and kissed me. 'Not that I'm prying, you understand. I'm just curious.'

'Yeah.'

A pause.

'Euelpida was saying that Aristoboulus has taken to staying out late. Some sort of work party at the Lyceum, or so he told her. She was quite concerned.'

'Is that so, now? And what did you say?'

'I told her not to be a fool.'

I laughed and planted a smacker on top of her grin. 'You want to get dressed? Or should we scandalise Bathyllus some more and go as we are?'

'I'll get dressed, thank you. If you'll let me up.'

I did, eventually. When we got downstairs the crisis was unresolved and there was a woman waiting for me in the hall. 'Woman', not 'lady': Bathyllus is a complete snob over things like that. Sometimes I despair.

'She give a name, little guy?' I said.

'No, sir.' A sniff. 'But she said you'd know her when you saw her.'

'Yeah? What's she like?'

'Young. Quite good-looking, sir. In a common sort of way. Oh, and she speaks Latin.'

Cotile; it had to be Cotile. What the hell was she doing here?

Perilla was looking at me. I swallowed. 'Ah…you want to join us, lady?' I said.

She shook her head and smiled. 'No.'

'Fine.' I turned to the hovering Bathyllus. 'I'll be in the study, Bathyllus. Bring a few lamps and show the lady in.'

It was Cotile, all right. She was nervous as hell.

'Valerius Corvinus,' she said, 'I had to come. I'm sorry.'

'That's okay. No problem.' I pulled up the desk chair and sat her in it. 'You want some wine?'

'No. No, thank you.'

'Have some anyway.' I poured two cups from the jug Bathyllus had left, put one into her hand and took the other over to the reading couch. 'How did you find me?'

'It wasn't difficult. There aren't many purple-stripers in Athens.' We were speaking Latin, and she used the idiomatic word. 'And I'm…off at present.'

'Hermippe let you leave the Scallop?'

'We aren't prisoners. Although we're usually expected to ask permission.'

'Did you?'

She hesitated. 'No. No, I didn't.'

Uh-huh. 'You know I talked to Demetriacus yesterday?'

'Yes. Cleo told me. That's why I'm here.' She gulped at her wine. 'You haven't found your friend?'

'Melanthus? No, not yet.' I paused. 'You know where he is?'

'No.' She looked at me in astonishment. 'Why should I?'

'I just assumed…'

'I told you. I don't know anything about him. Or no more than I've already said.'

'He's not in the building? Hiding out?'

'I don't know. He could be, I suppose. Hermippe and Demetriacus have their own private quarters in a separate part of the house. We girls aren't allowed in there.'

Now that was an interesting tidbit; and I wondered if that was "quarters" singular or "quarters" plural. If Demetriacus and his manageress were an item it might explain a lot.

'Okay,' I said. 'So why did you come?'

'To tell you what I was going to say when Antaeus interrupted us.' She hesitated. 'When Melanthus left Anthe she thought he might have gone down for a chat with Demetriacus.'

'He what?' I sat back.

'Anthe doesn't know for certain, of course. But he often did. They were good friends.' She must've noticed the expression on my face because her eyes widened. 'Demetriacus didn't mention it?'

'No. No, he didn't.' Mention it, hell: he'd specifically said he didn't know the guy. If Cotile was right he was lying through his teeth. And that was interesting. 'You say they were friends?'

'Demetriacus is interested in philosophy. And he wants very badly to be an Athenian gentleman.'

I nodded slowly. That figured: it would explain the careful Greek, for a start. 'An Athenian gentleman? You mean he isn't from Athens originally?' Callippus had said he was an incomer, of course, but like I said that meant next to nothing. The word was a technical term, and always had been.

'No. He's a Cypriot. From Paphos.'

I stared at her. Oh, Jupiter! Jupiter Best and Greatest! 'Demetriacus is a Paphian?'

'Of course. That's why he chose the Scallop's name, for the Paphos connection. He came here about ten years ago and bought the house from Melanthus.'

'Wait a minute.' My brain was spinning. 'Melanthus used to own the Scallop?'

Cotile nodded. 'Anthe didn't know the man's name, but yes. He inherited the property from an uncle. He told Anthe the first time he was with her that the room they were in used to be the old man's study. He found the changes she'd made quite…amusing.' She paused. 'Corvinus, I hope I've done right coming here. Only Anthe is fond of Melanthus. She'd want me to help find him.'

'Yeah. Yeah, sure.' I sipped my wine uncomfortably. 'You won't get into trouble over this, will you?'

'If I'm asked I'll say I was visiting one of our old girls. She's married to an oil-shipper and she lives not far from here. She'll cover for me if necessary.'

'Fine.' I took a gold piece out of my purse. 'This is…'

'No. No money.' Cotile got up. 'I hope it helps, that's all.'

I saw her out.

I hope it helps.

Gods!

I sent Cotile back in the carriage and went into the dining room where dinner was, finally, being served. Perilla had already started.

'Well, Corvinus?' she said. 'Has your girlfriend gone?'

'Uh…yeah.' I settled down beside her and held up my cup for Bathyllus to fill. The little guy was still quietly bristling: Bathyllus has standards, and he expects you to keep to them. Good-looking young women turning up unescorted and soliciting private interviews with the master during the hours of darkness come within the Prohibited category. 'Lysias is driving her back to the Scallop.'