David Wishart - In at the Death

‘Is that so? Well, well, that is fascinating. Now I’m sorry, but I’ve got — ’

‘And when you do cook them, you have to remember to add some flour to the water to keep them nice and white.’

‘Really? Well, thank you, Meton. Always an instructive pleasure talking to you, and as ever I have really enjoyed our conversation. Only now I’m a bit pushed for time, so — ’

‘They’re rubbish cold. You got to eat them hot, with some cheese grated on top. Some prefer Bithynian, but me, I find it too salty, and anyways since they started using them linen wrappings you can’t find good Bithynian in Rome worth a fuck. Vestinian’s not bad at a pinch, sure, and it’s easy come by, but we’re definitely talking second rate there. A good Sarsinan, now, that’s another matter, you can’t beat Sarsinan on cardoons. The only trouble with Sarsinan is if you use too fine a grater the — ’

‘Right. Right!’ Jupiter! ‘So the bottom line is, Meton, that I can look forward to really yummy reheated hare with liver and sausage tonight, can I?’

He sniffed. ‘Bugger that, Corvinus. I’ll do you meatballs.’

I watched the guy lumber off to skim his stock, then left the table and went through to the peristyle. Time to put Operation Ditch Placida into action.

She was up and waiting for me, tongue lolling. Yeah, well, she wasn’t a bad dog really, not considering the fact that she was a total barbarian with as much of the social graces as would fit on a pinhead, but letting myself be dragged across Rome for a third day in succession just wasn’t on.

I unhitched her and fixed the lead onto her collar. Great joy and excitement.

‘Come on, Placida,’ I said. ‘Walkies.’

We headed across the atrium at speed. Bathyllus was buffing bronzes.

‘You’re off, then, sir?’ he said.

‘Yeah.’ I tugged Placida into the closest I could get to a standstill. ‘Tell Perilla I’ll be skipping dinner but that I’ve cleared it with Meton. Oh, and by the way, he’s gobbed on the dining-room floor again.’

Bathyllus’s eyes closed briefly. ‘Thank you for that information, sir,’ he said. ‘Shall I open the front door for you?’

‘Yeah. Yeah, that might be an idea.’

We scrabbled through the lobby, through the open door and down the steps. I let Placida pull me the length of our garden wall plus next door’s house, paused to make sure that no one was watching, then took the sharp left down the alley and another left at the end, back parallel to the way I’d come.

Outside our garden gate, Alexis was waiting as per instructions. Alexis is our gardener, and the smartest cookie on the staff.

‘There you go, pal.’ I transferred the lead. ‘Take her down the Appian Road, turn her loose, let her chase a few rabbits and piss on a tomb or two. Stay out as long as you like, the longer the better. I’ll be out until this evening, after dinner, but if you keep her in your shed when you get back I can pick her up from there. Okay?’

Alexis grinned. ‘If the mistress finds out, sir, she’ll kill us both.’

‘True. But then what can go wrong? Thanks, pal. I won’t forget this. Ever.’

Free!

Okay. The senate meeting wouldn’t be out for a good three hours yet, minimum: the gods knew what these broad-striper buggers talked about in the Curia Julia, but they took their time over it. My best plan was to start off over at Apollo’s temple on the Palatine, where the library was.

Gods, it was great to be dogless!

The good weather was holding as I took the road that led from Head of Africa towards the Scaurian Incline, up the eastern slope of the Palatine and across the top of the hill to its western edge. Libraries always make me nervous. It isn’t just the books — I’ve never been partial to that musty smell of old papyrus and glue — but raise your voice above a whisper in these places and you’re liable to have your balls frozen off by glares from half a dozen different directions at once. Get caught chewing on a takeaway pastry while you’re browsing and it’s a nails-and-hammer offence with no appeal. The Apollo Library serves a purpose, sure, but you wouldn’t like to spend time there when you didn’t have to. Give me a wine-shop any day of the month.

I found the guy in charge and introduced myself.

‘Ah, the Lady Rufia Perilla’s husband?’ He was a dry old stick who looked like he’d been put together with papyrus and glue himself. Probably around the time of Alexander. ‘Charming woman. And a real pleasure to meet you, sir. How can I help? A book, perhaps? We have several of those.’ He chuckled. Yeah, well: librarian humour is pretty basic.

‘Actually,’ I said, ‘I was hoping you might help me trace one of your regular clients. A lady by the name of Lucia Albucilla.’

‘Really?’ His eyebrows rose. ‘Well, well. We’re not the, aha, the Danaid Porch here, you know. That’s further along. I don’t think I could actually — ’

I sighed. ‘Look, I don’t want to chat her up, pal, I just want the answers to a few questions, right?’

He beamed. ‘Of course. Of course. Forgive me. Not that I’d disapprove of a little dalliance, far from it. No harm in that. Why, in my younger days — ’ He stopped. ‘Well, that’s beside the point. Lucia Albucilla, you say? Splendid woman. Superb carriage. She reminds me very strongly of — ’

‘Pal.’ I laid a hand on his arm. ‘Just an address. Please? If you’ve got it?’

‘Certainly. Certainly. A moment, Valerius Corvinus, while I check the records. We keep very thorough records, you know. You’d be surprised how many people accidentally leave the building with a book caught up in their mantle. Women especially. I have been advocating body searches for years, but — ’

‘Ah…the address, pal? Please?’ Before we all dropped dead of advanced age. Gods!

‘Yes. Yes of course.’ He went over to the desk. ‘The filing system is my own. Alphabetical, and thoroughly cross-referenced. Albucilla will be under A, naturally, or I could find her under L for Lucia. I always cross-reference, you see. It does obviate a certain amount of confusion. Then she has another entry under M, because — ’

‘Great. Very ingenious. Very thorough.’

‘Oh. Yes, yes, of course. Well, no doubt you’re a busy man, Valerius Corvinus. I’ll just…yes.’

I twiddled my thumbs while he looked through the cards.

‘Here we are.’ He pulled one out. ‘The Caeliolan, near the temple of Ancient Hope. Will that suffice?’

‘Marvellous. Thanks a lot, friend. I’m — ’

‘Of course, she is on the premises at the moment.’

‘She is what ?’

‘Here, sir. In the reading room. She came in about an hour ago.’

Jupiter in a bloody pushchair! ‘Then why the fuck didn’t you tell me at the start?’ I said.

He blinked. ‘Because you asked me for her address, sir. And, Valerius Corvinus, I have never in my thirty years of — ’

‘Where is the sodding reading room? Or do you fucking have to look that up alphabetically as well?’

He drew himself up bristling. ‘Over there. Past the statues of the Graces. Let me say, however, that never in all my thirty years as senior librarian have I been exposed to such — ’

‘Right. Right. Thanks, pal. Much obliged.’

I left him to his card index.

Albucilla was easy to spot, because while the place was pretty full of punters she was the only woman. She was sitting near one of the windows with a book-roll open on her lap, although she didn’t seem to be reading it, just staring into space. Splendid carriage was right: I was getting the full profile with the sun behind it, and unless a lot of the top half was mantle I could understand how she’d have my pal the librarian dribbling into his gruel. Strong jawline, too.