David Wishart - The Lydian Baker

'Don't fudge. Just answer the question.'

'Marcus…'

'Uh-uh.' I was beginning to enjoy myself. Perilla was caught, and it wasn't often I got the chance to see her squirm. 'I'm happy either way. Just give me a straight yes or no.'

'Corvinus, I will kill you for this. I swear.'

'No swearing. Besides, Chrysoulla may be a bubblehead, but she's a stunner. And I never could resist stunners who ask me to do something for them. As you know yourself from experience.' I was grinning, and although she didn't say anything Perilla's lips twitched. 'So. Put up or shut up. Is it yes or no?'

'Marcus Valerius Corvinus, you are an absolute rat.'

'Admitted. Yes or no?'

She bent forward and kissed me slowly. 'Yes,' she said.

'Okay. So let's do it.'

Chrysoulla was dabbing her nose with a napkin. She looked like a small and very sexy dormouse.

'I'm sorry, lord,' she said.

'Hey, that's all right.' I poured myself another cup of Setinian and lay down on the couch. This time Perilla lay down beside me. 'You mind answering a few more questions?'

That got me a guarded look. 'What sort of questions?'

'Nothing complicated. If we're going to help then we need some information. First off, what exactly do you know about the Baker?'

'Nothing. I told you, Argaius doesn't talk to me about work.'

'You know what it is?'

'Of course.' She seemed proud of herself. 'A solid gold statue, from the old days. Argaius says it's over five hundred years old.'

'Have you seen it? Do you know where it is?'

'No, lord.'

'Which question's that an answer to?'

She hesitated, frowning. I reckoned we were working at the limit of the lady's linguistic and intellectual capacities here.

'Both,' she said at last.

Well, I hadn't expected anything else. If Argaius hadn't discussed the ordinary day-to-day stuff over their breakfast porridge he was hardly likely to have told her where he'd cached their key to a fortune. And the odds on the statue being in the Piraeus flat doubling as a towel rack weren't worth quoting.

'So you can't tell us anything?' I said. 'Nothing at all? Like where your husband got it from, for example?'

Her brow cleared. 'Oh, I know that, lord! It's a family heirloom.'

I sighed. Yeah. Sure. And I was a pygmy with a grass skirt and a bone through my nose. A four-and-a-half foot solid gold statue handed down the family line like Aunt Calliste's Corinthian vase I just wouldn't swallow. Still, Argaius had had to tell her something, no doubt, and even Chrysoulla wouldn't believe the old chestnut of the Baker having fallen off the back of a delivery cart.

'Okay, let's change tack,' I said. 'What about this guy your husband was going to meet in Mounychia?'

'I told you, lord. He just said a man. A "potential customer"'. The careful phrasing again, like she was quoting. Probably she was.

'Had he mentioned anyone before? Anyone who was interested in the Baker?'

'Oh, yes.' She brightened again. 'A man in Rome. Very rich, but a bit' — she spun a finger against her temple — 'you know.'

'Yeah, I know.' I sighed again: it was as good a description of Priscus as I could've given. 'Forget him. That's the guy I'm agenting for. Anyone else? Someone more local, maybe?'

'No. At least, no one I know. But then Argaius — '

'Didn't talk to you about the business. Yeah. I've gathered that.' I elbowed Perilla in the ribs. 'You got any questions, Aristotle?'

'Only one,' Perilla said. 'For you, Corvinus, actually. How did your cookshop friend know you'd be coming round to Argaius's this morning?'

I opened my mouth to answer — and then closed it again. Fair point. Of course, it could've been coincidence, but still… Especially since our star informant here didn't know of any other punters in the running. It was worth thinking about, anyway. And while we were on the subject of our star informant…

'Hey, Bathyllus!' I shouted. The little guy wasn't actually in the room, but I knew professional pride would've kept him within yelling distance. Sure enough he padded in before the echoes had faded.

'Yes, sir.'

'Make up a spare bed,' I said. 'Our guest here's sleeping over.'

Bathyllus looked at Perilla, eyebrows raised. She nodded.

‘Oh, no, lord!' The dormouse was looking shocked. 'I couldn't! It wouldn't be proper!'

'Look, Chryssoula,' I said. 'Go home now and if your pal with the sausage finds out where you've been you're in trouble up to your earrings. Besides, if this whole thing's a mare's nest and Argaius has been out on the tiles the guy can do a little worrying on his own account.' I'd've laid out good money that wherever the hell Argaius was he wasn't tomcatting, but there was no point in making things worse for her than they were already. 'First thing tomorrow morning we go down to City Watch Headquarters and have a word with the boss. After that we take things as they come. Agreed?'

'Very well, lord. Thank you.'

'Don't mention it. Go with Bathyllus, okay?'

She left, still sniffing.

From the looks of things, I had a busy day ahead. An early night still seemed a good idea. I ran a hand down Perilla's arm.

'Bed, lady?' I said.

'Bed.' She smiled.

Ah, well. Better late than never.

The main headquarters of the City Watch are off the north side of the Marketplace, behind Herm Porch. Sure, the City and the Piraeus are separate jurisdictions, but Callippus was a friend of mine, or at least a good acquaintance, and to get Chrysoulla any sort of attention at all would need a favour, even if it did come second hand. In this instance I didn't mind asking: unusually for a Greek, Callippus had a genuine soft spot for Romans. He even spoke decent Latin, and he liked the chance to practise.

He was reading over some papers on his desk when we walked in. I was glad to see he smiled when he recognised me; with officials that doesn't happen too often.

'Valerius Corvinus!' He put the papers to one side. 'You're far from home this morning.'

'Yeah.' We shook hands Roman-style, and I switched to Greek: Chrysoulla wouldn't understand the Latin. 'It's business, I'm afraid.'

'Really?' He looked at Chrysoulla. 'Nothing serious, I hope?'

'You and me both, pal. This lady's name is Chrysoulla.' I thought his eyebrows lifted, but I may've been mistaken. Evil-minded bastard. 'Her husband's gone missing.'

'Indeed?' He reached for a notepad and stylus. 'Which district?'

'Not in the City. The Piraeus. Zea Harbour area, or possibly Mounychia. I was hoping you might give me a note for the guy in charge down there.'

'Not a problem.' Still, I noticed he'd laid down the stylus: in Athens, like in Rome and everywhere else I've ever heard of, the City Watch is overstretched, and they've got enough on their own patch to keep them busy without worrying about anyone else's. The Piraeus guy could take his own notes. Also, although Callippus was too polite to say so, missing persons below City Magistrate level aren't the concern of Watch chiefs. We were filling in time here, although I appreciated that he was taking the trouble to go through the motions.

'Your husband's name?' Callippus turned his attention to Chrysoulla.

'Argaius, lord.' She sounded nervous as hell: probably like most Piraeans her contacts with Watch officials hadn't been exactly friendly up to now. 'We've an import-export business near the Shrine of Hyakinthos, behind the Serangeion.'

Nerves or not, she'd said it with a shy pride that I found pretty touching, especially since I'd seen the place myself, but Callippus grunted and lowered his eyes. Callippus knew the Serangeion district and what 'import-export' was a euphemism for as well as I did.

'And he's been missing since when?'

I saw that he'd picked up the pen again; not because he was interested, I knew, but because he'd noticed that she'd noticed he wasn't taking notes. I had a lot of time for Callippus: Athens might claim to have invented democracy but as far as putting the lower orders in their place is concerned some of these guys from the old aristocratic families could've given the Tarquins lessons.