Lindsey Davis - The Ides of April

"Oh come on, friend!"

He leaned forwards confidingly. "This is it. At the end of last night's proceedings there was a big social shock. A gathering had been arranged at the chief priestess's house; Faustus went, naturally. A lot of our people had to go home, but I managed to get taken along." I couldn't help thinking wistfully that that was the moment when Andronicus could have escaped and come to see me. But one must not be selfish. "We all trooped to the old woman's house, where we mingled in a stilted fashion with spiced wine and oatcakes, most people wishing they had not bothered to go. Faustus was lapping up compliments, but the night had taken a toll; he looked about finished. Then it happened. While people were beginning to drop out and leave, Laia Gratiana actually came up and spoke to Faustus."

I blinked. "From what I know, that must have startled everyone."

"Especially him! Normally they would ignore each other. It was the kind of do where she could easily have kept out of his way. She hates him. He can't bear to deal with her. Yet she marched up and confronted him without any foreplay. He, poor dog, did not know where to look!"

"So what did Laia want?"

"A word with him-in private!"

I sucked my teeth. "That's annoying."

"Trust me, Albia."

"You bug! You listened?"

"I was not going to miss it. You would have been in there with me.

"Oh I would!"

"You would have had to disguise yourself as a small bay tree, but fortunately the planting pots where I was obliged to lurk were large."

"And?"

"He said, 'This is a surprise!' She said, 'Shut up and listen. I just wondered if you had realised who Venusia was. ' Annoyingly, he then- the bastard-only said, ' Surely not that Venusia?' Anybody would think he knew I was watching."

If he was at all alert, there was a good chance Manlius Faustus suspected Andronicus was spying on him. Any of his staff might do it. In Domitian's Rome, this was inevitable, whether or not people really had secrets. In fact, to stand near any plant tub or statue when you could not see behind it was extremely foolish. Some would say even laurel leaves had ears these days.

"So Faustus knows something about Venusia, even if he has to be reminded by Laia? She thinks it so important she has broken her fierce ten-year vow of Faustus-avoidance?" My mind was racing. "Andronicus, Venusia was the other maid, that time Marcia Balbilla's girl was attacked in the Vicus Altus."

Andronicus whistled quietly.

"And we do know what she once did to Faustus," he corrected me.

"You found out?"

"Oh I learned a lot from their merry banter, Albia. Details I have wanted to know for years. Apparently he may be a moraliser now but he was degenerate then. I finally discovered what happened to end their marriage."

"So?" I asked cautiously.

"Fortunately, Laia Gratiana is the type who likes to be theatrical when she has a chance to wallow in unpleasantness. 'Yes, Faustus. Venusia-who, when you had yourfilthy affair with that terrible woman, loyally came and told me .' To which he could only answer, 'Oh!' His repartee is extraordinarily tedious."

I swung my legs out, kicking my feet restlessly.

"Well, that's interesting, but I fail to see why it makes you say Faustus may have killed Ino."

"Don't you see-wrong maid!"

"What?"

"Faustus knows perfectly well it was Venusia who broke up his marriage. Naturally he has never forgiven her for snitching. Who would? He intended to get his revenge by killing her, but seen from behind, two maids all wrapped up in stoles look identical. Suppose instead of each following her own mistress as you would expect, they had inconveniently swapped places?"

"With a group of people going along together in a bunch, it can easily happen," I agreed.

"Yes-so he attacked Ino by mistake."

"Good theory. But it's guesswork. How can you be sure they swapped positions?"

"I can't," agreed Andronicus. "But I bet if you ask any of the survivors, they will confirm I'm right."

I had another reason to believe it. "That could explain something I learned today: Laia has sent Venusia off to the country. I thought it peculiar, but not if it is for protection. So could the two maids be misidentified? I wonder what Venusia looks like?"

"An old Greek gargoyle."

"You know her?"

"Seen her with Laia at the temple."

Andronicus was probably exaggerating and anyway, the marriage ended ten years ago. I thought it was unlikely Faustus had ever taken much notice of his wife's maid. He might well fail to recognise her now.

"She's gone away to save her skin, in case he goes after her again." Andronicus was definite. "Do you know where they have sent her?"

"No, I don't. Look, killing a maid who betrayed him would be rather obvious-and also rather late in the day, don't you think? Ten years later?" I heard myself becoming stern. "I have to say that this is a far-fetched theory, Andronicus. For a man in his position to go around causing people's deaths is-"

"Feasible, if he's crazy."

"You live in his house. Is he crazy?"

"Why do you think," explained Andronicus gently, "I have always been so keen to keep you away from him?"

I smiled back into his loving eyes.

"But are you suggesting Faustus was responsible for the other deaths as well?" I asked, struggling to keep to business, while Andronicus kept being affectionate. "Salvidia, for instance?"

"He knew about Salvidia causing the little boy's death. He hated that. He put up the wall poster calling for witnesses."

"I thought that was Tiberius."

"Did it or did it not have Faustus' name on it? I seem to remember you coming to our office asking for him, Albia."

I nodded. "All right. Suppose in that instance, the aedile took his role as a public official way too far. He hated Salvidia causing a child's death through negligence, so instead of just fining her company, he took it upon himself to impose harsh justice. But what happened with the old lady? Celendina had done nothing to upset him."

"Ah, that I don't know. There must be a reason. We simply have not seen it yet. Maybe that son you mentioned really did for her… As for the oyster boy," Andronicus rushed on, hopping in ahead of me, "Faustus often buys special provisions. He loves his food. He enjoys oysters and is particular who supplies them. He must have gone to that stall and somehow the lad annoyed him."

It was routine for heads of household to shop for the home in that way. Men, particularly, saw themselves as retail experts. Killing a boy who, say, shucked his oysters incorrectly seemed unlikely, but once you start thinking that someone is crazy, normal rules fail. Andronicus was right about that. We all struggle to identify motives, yet killers are a feckless, inconsistent breed.

This was bizarre. Here I was, sitting in the man's house without his knowledge, while one of his staff attempted to prove to me that he was a serial murderer. Andronicus seemed almost blase about it. I was increasingly uncomfortable.

"We had decided," I demurred, "the killer must live in the area where the deaths, or at least the attacks on victims, all occurred."

Andronicus shrugged. "Lives nearby-or works?"

He was right. Sited beside the Temple of Ceres, the aediles' office was right there.

I watched a slave, burdened with a large tray of silverware, including bowls with crisp napkins like the ones we had had, walk along the upper balcony as if taking this to one of the bedrooms. The boy was staggering. He had to steady himself against a column. That was an important tray.

I jumped to my feet. "I can't sit here discussing him. I'm going home."

Andronicus asked, almost excitedly, "Are you frightened of the man?"