Lindsey Davis - The Ides of April

"Yes, but there's two things against it," Morellus mused. "Fewer people about, so less crowd-cover when he attacks. And once dusk falls, the streets are full of vigiles. He may get the squits at the thought of meeting up with us."

Tiberius and I for the first time joined forces, as we rolled our eyes at that idea.

"He likes to go home for dinner," I decided. We were calling him a man, on the basis of Laia Gratiana's possible sighting. "Perhaps he is obliged to go-can he have a bullying wife? She picks on him; he dares not stand up to her. He avenges himself by attacking members of the public, instead of dealing with the woman at home he's scared of?"

"Or he has a nagging mother ;" Morellus corrected me. "Two of his victims are not young."

"Doesn't explain the oyster boy."

"If he is getting his thrills sexually, it doesn't rule the boy out," Morellus answered, cynically. Tiberius looked uncomfortable.

Although he had made no comment while Morellus and I were talking, he had been paying attention. The runner was quietly eating his cheese, cutting off thin slices and savouring the taste. He used the knife Morellus had been cleaning his nails with; I had seen Tiberius wipe it first very carefully on the hem of his tunic. The tunic was the scratchy one he wore a couple of days ago, though he had a softer-looking undertunic this time, showing beneath the bottom hem and sleeves: his layered look. Generals have it on their statues, to signify they can afford a big wardrobe.

I found myself staring at that cheese. Without a word he cut several slices and put them within my reach. Its texture looked unpromising, but Metellus Nepos must have smoked it. The result was wonderful. I chewed slowly, showing that I liked it, while not extending myself to say thank you.

My garlic squids had gone. They vanished early; it always was best to have them while some warmth remained, but between the three of us we had had a bit of a race to grab them.

"He could be a slave," I said, still gently chewing.

Morellus liked that. "Sent out on daily errands-?"

"— And does something vindictive while he is out of the house."

Tiberius just listened in, but he pulled a face to agree it was plausible.

With no more available evidence to help define our killer, the talk turned to measures for catching him. This degenerated into them planning manpower rotas, which I found boring. I merely sat, lolling forwards on the table. Tiberius and Morellus were exercised about the coming Cerialia Games. The Aventine would be taken over with seven days of public events, which could offer this man cover and new opportunities. Even if we broke the silence about the killings and warned locals to be careful, our district would be visited by many strangers who knew nothing about the warnings.

At one point when we were taking a breather from hard thought, Morellus looked at me and exclaimed to Tiberius, "She loves this!"

"Conspiring in dark little rooms full of lamp smoke? She does," agreed the runner. Although normally I would have kicked against two men discussing me that way, somehow it was neither exclusive nor patronising. We were all friends tonight.

"Beats interviewing supercilious women," I said easily. "Persuading those ladies who run the cult of Ceres to tell me anything useful had all the attraction of scraping up vomit."

Morellus chortled. "Someone has to do it. Albia, some jobs are just too filthy for us men!"

"Wimps. The trick is not to let them notice that I'm steering them into actually giving answers."

"She's Falco's daughter," Morellus mentioned to Tiberius, as if explaining my tradecraft. "Do you know him?"

"I know who he is."

Morellus nodded. "She can hold her own." Tiberius must have been starting to get the traditional pain in the guts from his sliver of Xero's rabbit pie; he must be distracted, because he too nodded. Morellus then asked, "What does your pa think, Albia?"

"Oh don't give me the old song, Morellus. I've been doing my job for twelve years now and I do not need you throwing out that stale line, ' Should we ask someone more experienced-and male-to come in on this?' He keeps his head down nowadays, in case Domitian remembers they are enemies. Anyway, my whole family is entirely obsessed this month with the upcoming Viator auction."

Tiberius raised one eyebrow. He put down the knife. "That wouldn't be Julius Viator? The fur importer?"

I nodded. "It's a huge estate being sold off by the heirs. Why- did you know the deceased?"

"If it's the same man, Tullius does business with him- did , I suppose I should say. Viator was even at our house once. He was young, younger than me certainly." Although it was hard to be exact with all that facial whisker, Tiberius looked in his middle thirties. "I am very surprised to hear you say he is dead, Albia. When did that happen?"

"Must have been March. I first heard about the auction at a family party." Father's birthday. That reminded me: mine was fast coming up.

Tiberius was silent for a moment, then went on, "I didn't take to him-he was one of those fellows who spends his whole day exercising… No conversation, unless you wanted to hear how many weights he had lifted, and a complete drag at dinner because he was so careful about his diet."

"Fit?" asked Morellus-a throwaway comment, but he soon realised it could be significant. "Shit! Young and healthy?"

Tiberius looked thoughtful. "Fittest man I ever met. Too fit to die! It looks as if I had better make discreet enquiries about this tomorrow."

Morellus and I caught each other's gaze. Then we too fell quiet.

The possibility that we might have accidentally noticed another death to count in made us all low-spirited. The meeting broke up.

I gathered the remaining crumbs and remnants of piecrust into the packet I brought the squids in.

"Midnight supper?" jeered Morellus.

"Stray dog." I was taking it to my foxes.

In view of the hour, the investigator suggested that the runner should escort me home. I sensed what that was: a male hint that Tiberius might be in with a chance. Morellus himself was married with three young children; that would never have stopped him trying it on, but he knew I had met his wife. A nice woman. She had married a bum, though what choice did most women have? But if he played up, Morellus could expect Pullia to hear about it from me.

Knowing that he himself was ruled out, Morellus was signalling to the runner that the track was clear for him. He would think he was being generous. I don't know if the grubby matchmaker actually winked, but it was well implied. Tiberius looked unimpressed- thank you, Juno! I rejected the offer.

I strode off alone from the station house, moving fast to make sure I shed the runner. I was making my way to the Armilustrium. There, Robigo must have been hungry. Almost as soon as I put down the food and stepped away, I sensed his presence. On top of the boundary wall I saw his head come up, ears pricked. Soon he came slipping down the wall and was nosing what I had brought him.

I did not stay. I felt suddenly nervous, as if someone was watching me. Robigo, too, seemed to be listening more than usual.

Luckily Fountain Court was near. I walked fast. When I reached home, Rodan had for once locked the grille. I knew how to pick the padlock, though it was tricky and always took some moments. Once I was inside and fumbling to relock it in a hurry, I looked out through the metalwork.

Tiberius was standing a few strides away. His feet were planted apart, his arms folded. When he knew I had seen him, he jerked his head, apparently reproving me for taking risks. In a moment, he was gone.

Of course he would claim he was just seeing I reached home safely. I could not judge his true motives, and felt outraged. I was more unnerved to be followed home by him, than if a stranger had secretly tracked me. I knew that women are most often attacked by men with whom they have a previous acquaintance.