Marilyn Todd - Wolf Whistle

‘Larentia wouldn’t believe that.’

Claudia leaned over and broke off a chunk of hot, steaming chestnut bread. ‘Of course she wouldn’t. But will that stop her convincing a judge I encouraged him?’ The slightest excuse, no matter how tenuous. Think of the money at stake. ‘So we’re agreed, then. No legionaries?’

He tilted his chair back against the wall and folded his hands behind his head. ‘No legionaries,’ he agreed. ‘Until after the old trouts have left.’

Claudia waited.

‘But until then,’ he continued eventually, ‘I shall have to take other precautions to safeguard your life.’

Claudia set her drawstring bag upon the table and patted it. ‘Such as?’

He even made out he was considering other options. ‘You leave me no choice,’ he said gravely. ‘I shall have to protect you myself.’

Now why is it I had a feeling you’d say that? ‘And just how do you plan to do that?’

‘By moving in, you can pass me off as a relative, a servant, even your agent. We’ll think of something.’

We certainly will. ‘Oops.’

Bending down to retrieve Claudia’s bracelet which had fallen on to the tiles. Orbilio thought he detected a flash of movement from the corner of his eye, but when he straightened up, she was helping them both to a rich gamey stew of venison and hare.

‘I have a plan,’ she said. There was no sign of the little blue bag on the table. ‘It’s one I’ve used before and I call it my Runaway Success.’

‘Foolproof?’ He was so suspicious, he almost checked under his plate.

‘Foolproof.’ But it takes half an hour. ‘I’ll explain, but in the meantime, tell me this. Do you think Jovi is in any danger?’

‘Because he saw the “sleeping” lady, and possibly the killer, who thinks he might identify him?’ Orbilio mopped his stew with his bread. ‘No,’ he said decisively. ‘My guess is that yes, Jovi saw the victim in the alley. It was dark, he was lost and frightened and alone, and he wanted help, but that’s when the killer got lucky. I think the victim had already been knocked out-the other two had bruises on their skulls, that’s how he ties them up and strips them without a struggle. So when Jovi came bumbling along, the killer simply melted into the shadows until the boy gave up.’

Around the tavern, smells of meat juices dripping from the spit mingled with guffaws of raucous male laughter from the corner. Logs from the fire crackled as the flames licked round their splintered edges.

‘Then that’s one cold-blooded bastard you are looking for.’

‘Isn’t he, now.’ Marcus combed his hair with his hands. The torn flesh on his knuckles was healing over, she noticed. ‘We know the girl was unharmed at that stage, and Jovi would certainly have said if she’d been naked, so having secured himself both victim and secluded killing ground, our man simply toughed it out.’

Roaring fire or not, it seemed cold all of a sudden. ‘He? You think the killer’s a man?’

‘Do women do things like that to each other?’ Claudia shivered. ‘Was he…slicing her up while Jovi and I were there?’

Orbilio pushed back his plate in distaste. ‘That girl died in the early hours of the morning,’ he said in reply, ‘and she took one hell of a long time to do it. But to answer the question you are too damned proud to ask, no, Mistress Seferius, you could not have saved her life.’ His face had gone white and his lips were pursed to nothingness. ‘Instead, I’d have had three bodies lying in the mortuary, instead of one.’

She waited for the lump in her throat to subside. ‘And the only clue is a man whistling his dog?’

‘That’s one more than the previous two murders,’ he said ruefully. ‘Jupiter alone knows how many men whistle their dogs along the Argiletum at night, but I’ve got a man going back after dark to find out-and hopefully one of the witnesses can fill in some gaps.’

Claudia swallowed a mouthful of wine, as much to get rid of the taste of that alley. ‘What do you make of the market day connection?’

Orbilio ran his hands over his face. ‘It suggests the killer, rather than his victims, comes from out of town, but what I don’t understand are the knife wounds. Why twenty-seven?’

An elm log rolled off the fire and sat glowing against the brightly bronzed dog. The landlord returned it to the fire and, by way of thanks, it spat red-hot darts in his face.

‘In addition,’ Marcus continued, ‘each victim had a distinctive tattoo on her shoulder. A blue dragon. Unfortunately, tracking down its significance takes time and resources.’ He rubbed at his eyes. ‘Both of which are denied me at present.’

For several long moments they stared into space, their thoughts converging on a young girl bleeding to her death in a stinking, dirty runnel and pondering the significance of chopping off her hair. Whatever the gesture symbolized for the killer and his victim, laying it in her lap after death meant the bastard had stayed around long enough to watch her die.

‘Anything for afters?’ The serving girl who came to clear away the tray was refreshingly cheerful. ‘Cook does lovely buns, full of candied fruit and nuts they are.’

‘Maybe later,’ Orbilio said, and then, turning to Claudia, asked jauntily, ‘So tell me, madam, what constitutes a Runaway Success?’

She smiled. ‘Mostly a large dose of carob beans mixed with figs, dates and a dash of castor oil-’

He looked puzzled.

‘-which for obvious reasons is best disguised by a very strong taste. A rich gamey sauce, for instance-’

He looked worried.

‘-and it takes a half hour to work.’

He looked at the water clock.

‘Runaway success?’ he asked, feeling the first faint gripes in his stomach.

‘Foolproof.’ She smiled. ‘And the latrines, I believe, are that way.’

In a smoke-filled kitchen on the Caelian, a small boy clung to the broad hips of the girl from Thessaly and sobbed convulsively. Servants milled around him, and it wasn’t that they were indifferent to his plight-they slipped him pomegranates and dates, and Hylas the carpenter even carved him a small wooden horse-but right now they were in a rush to provide for the deluge of womenfolk who, having returned from the ceremony on the Palatine, were looking forward to a good hot lunch, having changed their clothes, unpacked their belongings and then swapped sleeping accommodation, because no way would Julia share with Aemelia, which meant Fortunata had to sleep with Eppia, but what about Fannia, because everyone knows she snores.

Larentia, scrawny and shrewd, revelled in these wranglings-what better cover for a good poke round? Only her son’s bedroom appeared locked and that, the steward informed her, had been so since the day Master Gaius had died and the mistress had retained the key. Slightly unsettled but not quite sure why, the old woman moved on to inspect the gold and silver plate using an inventory she’d drawn up from memory, because she’d never actually lived under this roof. Gaius had bought the property during the early days of his prosperity, and because his eldest son, her grandson, had been too young to take over the Etruscan estate, Larentia had acted as chatelaine, a position she enjoyed even after the boy had taken a wife. But there was nothing wrong with her memory.

‘Buggery, sodomy and fuck.’ She banged down the lid of the chest. Not only were the pieces on her mental list present and correct, it would appear the bitch was adding to them. Three silver platters as wide as a man’s reach, and a gold fluted bowl with swing handles. ‘Damn-bloody-nation to hell.’

‘… so I said to the mercer, either they all have red piping or none of them do… ’