David Wishart - The Lydian Baker

'The Scallop?'

'Aphrodite's Scallop.' I helped myself to kidney beans in fennel. 'It's a…er…property near Ptolemy's Gym.'

'"Property?"'

'Lady, you're beginning to sound like Nestor. Cut it out, okay? You know very well what I mean.'

She ducked her head and kissed me. 'Yes, of course I do. I'm sorry. What did the girl have to say?'

'Her name's Cotile.' I gave her the background, minus some of the physical description and without mentioning Cleo at all: honesty in a marriage is one thing, but you can take it too far. Even so, Bathyllus left in the huff half way through.

'So you think this Demetriacus is involved with Melanthus?' Perilla dipped a chicken wing in the almond sauce.

'To the eyeballs. And why should he be so careful to deny a connection if there wasn't something fishy going on?'

'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?'