Lindsey Davis - Scandal Takes a Holiday

'I don't want them back, and I won't report you, Titus. I just need to know.'

'There was none.'

'Right.'

'You don't believe me!'

'I believe you.' I believed no slave would ever confess to stealing anything with which he could arm himself, even if he had sold on the weapon. Slaves and swords don't mix.

'So is that it?' asked Titus, looking hopeful.

'Almost. But since the new tenant has gone out, I'll have you show me the room, please.' Knowing he was on shaky ground over the stolen goods, Titus agreed to this. But we found that while I had been talking to Titus, the tenant had returned.

He was a run-down furtive corn factor, now sitting on his narrow bed eating a cold pie. Nux ran in as if she owned the place and he jumped up looking guilty; maybe the landlady forbade food indoors. While he recovered, being mainly ashamed that he had gravy all down him, I showed I was tough.

I searched the room, without bothering to ask permission. The corn factor must have known that the previous tenant had vanished; patiently he let me do what I wanted. He and Titus watched, as I went into all the special places where travellers hide things in hired rooms, from obviously, under the mattress, to more subtly, on the top of the window-frame. The floorboards were all well nailed down. The wall cupboard was empty apart from dirt and a dead wasp. I found nothing. I ordered Nux to search, which as usual she declined to do, preferring to sit staring at the factor's pastry.

I thanked him for making his facilities available. He offered me a bite of pie, but my mother brought me up to decline food from strangers.

I dragged Nux and Titus outside, put the dog on a string to stop her going back inside to beg for food, then grilled the slave further. I wanted to know Diocles' habits. 'Did he sit in his room waiting for an earthquake to happen, like that quiet soul you're renting to now?'

'No, Diocles nipped in and out all the time.'

'Sociable?'

'He was looking for work, he said, Falco. He kept going off and trying places. Never had no luck, though.' As a slave, who would make a copper on the side whenever possible, Titus did not think this odd when Diocles was already employed.

'Where did he apply?'

'All sorts, I think. He went to the docks, of course. Everyone does. All the jobs there are well sewn up. Once or twice he hired a mule and trotted off to the countryside; he must have fancied lettuce-picking. He wanted to be a hod-carrier one week, but he was no good at it and they kicked him out. Vulcan's breath, I reckon he even tried joining up for the vigiles!' That was a facer.

'Surely not?'

'No, you're right, Falco; he must have been ragging me. No one is that daft.'

'Anything else?'

'Not that I can think of.'

'Well, thanks, Titus. You've given me a picture of his movements.' It was a faint picture, and one in which Diocles had either gone nuts and was trying to run off to another life or had laid a false trail to hide whatever sensational story he was looking into as Infamia. Several false trails, by the sound of it. I was not quite discounting the first possibility. The man had disappeared. Whatever the other scribes thought about Diocles being irresponsible and whatever I suspected about his work having gone wrong, he could still have deliberately chosen to vanish. People do run off without warning. For no obvious reason, some decide to start afresh and it is often in a new role that would amaze their friends. I had an uncle who bunked off like that, my mother's eldest brother. He had been even more odd than her other two weird brothers, Fabius and Junius. Now he was the one nobody talked about any more.

There was a large, mad-eyed, paw-scrabbling, tooth-baring black and white dog tied up on the landing when I went home for lunch. Hades. it was Ajax. I knew what that meant. Nux growled at him with long-term animosity. I patted and shushed Ajax, who was desperate but harmless.

On hearing my name called, I dutifully slunk indoors. Lunch was on the table; Julia was hiding under it. Favonia was trying really hard to clamber out of the crib. Helena looked frosty. Julia was hiding because we had been visited by her cousin, Marcus Baebius Junillus, an infant who was deaf, rather excitable, and given to sudden shrill exclamations. Favonia was frantic to play with him; she loved anyone eccentric. Helena was frosty because little Marcus [and also the slavering dog Ajax] had been brought to see us by my sister Junia, famous for her unlovely temperament, for her ludicrous husband Gaius Baebius the customs clerk, and for ruining Flora's, the one-time hotspot caupona which she had inherited, that was how Junia saw it, when my father's mistress died.

'Hello, brother.'

'Hail, sister. You're looking a picture.' Junia squinted at me, rightly suspecting I meant a picture I would not find a nail for. She dressed formally, every pleat in place, and primped her hair into regular fat rolls. A self-righteous snob, she had always imagined her stiff mode of attire made her look like the matrons of the imperial family, the old-fashioned, severe ones that never slept with their brothers or the Chief of Police, the ones nobody cares about. No amount of forcing would groom Junia's spoiled little son to be an emperor, however. That was why Helena always made me be polite; lacking children, Junia and Gaius had willingly adopted Marcus when he was abandoned as a baby. They had known he was deaf. They tackled it stalwartly. Junia milked this act of charity every time we met. I had never liked her, and my patience was close to evaporating.

'That was even before,' she said shamelessly, 'We heard you were on holiday in Ostia and all the family are planning to come and stay with you. I rushed down to get in first.' Gaius Baebius worked here at the port. He had done so for years and anyone else would have acquired an apartment by now; instead, meanness made him sleep on a pallet at the customs house when he stayed overnight. For him, the lack of an apartment must have the extra benefit of preventing Junia visiting.

'I'm not on holiday,' I said curtly. Helena made haste to add, 'Sadly, I have had to say we don't have space for you, Junia. Albia and Julia are in our second room, the baby has to sleep with us, and poor Aulus is having to stretch out on the floor in here…'

Straightening her numerous strands of necklace, Junia brushed Helena aside. 'Oh don't fret. Now that I've seen Maia's living arrangements in that lovely house, we shall all stop with them.' I said Maia would be thrilled. Junia glared at me.

'If you're not having a break here, Marcus, I suppose you are on one of your daft exploits. What is it this time?'

'Missing person.'

'Oh, you should ask Gaius to help. He knows absolutely everyone in Ostia.'

Who thought that one up? My brother-in-law was completely unsociable; people fled his company. He was a ponderous, pontificating, boring, boasting drone. He knew how to wind me up too. He always insisted enjoining me if he caught me in a wine shop, then he always let me pay the bill. 'Have you any leads?' Junia preened herself for knowing the right jargon.

'Ask Gaius if he's ever heard of someone called Damagoras,' Helena told her, rather more crisply than usual.

'He's bound to know. Your case is solved already.' If there was one person who was unlikely to provide me with information it was Gaius Baebius. Her son was fractious so we managed to get rid of my sister. That was just as well, because Petronius arrived soon afterwards, urgently needing to rage about Junia booking herself in with him and Maia.

'Privatus can't be expected to put up all your bloody family, Falco! I can't stand that woman.'

When he calmed down, I asked him to check if there was a Damagoras on any vigiles list. 'We don't keep lists,' he insisted.