Lindsey Davis - Graveyard of the Hesperides

“Pudgy was an awful creature. She caused such trouble-bites, fights, always in heat. Ever tried running a bar where a bitch has a long list of desperate callers but her master wants to keep her pure so he can sell the hulking offspring as purebred novelties? We couldn’t move for mongrels we were trying to chase away, then Pudgy would have her great lumps of puppies. It was disgusting. Everyone loathed her, except Thales.”

“You got rid of her, though, in the end. Didn’t she choke to death on a boot?”

“That’s right.”

“Someone gave it her to play with?”

“Rhodina. Gods, she was a dozy tramp.” Nipius had revealed the name before apparently having second thoughts.

“Thales’ girlfriend,” I agreed in a light tone, not even making it sound like a question. Since they did not correct me, this must be correct. “I’ve heard all about her. Beauty doesn’t go with brains. She was a real looker, wasn’t she? All the men were after her? So Thales couldn’t believe his luck and I suppose he would forgive her anything?”

“Oh, he didn’t forgive her losing Pudgy!” scoffed Natalis. “The row about his precious dog went on and on. Even when he pretended to let it go, he kept brooding.”

I had casually positioned myself in the gap between the counters, so the waiters could not leave. Holding them there, I stopped pretending to laugh about it. “What you say isn’t what I have been told. The word elsewhere is Pudgy died accidentally, Thales was heartbroken, he nearly killed himself with drink-and only stopped moaning when he took up with his new girlfriend.”

Typically, the waiters decided it was more important to brag about their own information than to hide the facts. “You were told wrong then!” Natalis insisted, with some scorn. “You’ve been talking to those no-hoper delinquents at the Romulus or the Soldier’s Rest. We worked here, we ought to know what happened.”

“Indeed you should, boys-I am happy to believe all you say.” That was a rare promise to witnesses. They were mad if they believed me. “So the gorgeous bundle called Rhodina worked as a waitress here?”

“Oh she did.”

“A hot favorite with Old Thales?”

“In his bed most nights, from well before Pudgy copped it. He was besotted. She strung him along.”

“Usual story!” I nodded. “Was she young?”

“Young and pert. He wasn’t her first conquest. Nor was she his, come to that.”

“Then she accidentally killed off his dog?”

“She really did not like that dog,” Natalis muttered, with passion. “None of us did. Pass too close and it would nip you for nothing. Rhodina would not go near it. Customers who sat or stood by Pudgy never got a drink from her. We had to serve them. The dog was a big, powerful thing; Rhodina was terrified of it.”

“Well, that was why she tried to distract it with the boot,” explained Nipius. “She never intended to destroy the creature-or so she said afterward-though when it started gagging horribly, she made no attempt to help. She was certainly not sorry it died.”

“Not until Thales went up in flames.”

“So he realized it was her fault?” I asked.

“Not to start with. She very carefully said nothing.”

“So he didn’t blame her?”

“Not until he found out!” crowed Natalis. Nipius giggled at the memory.

“She told him?”

“She was dim, but not that stupid. Someone in the bar must have snitched. Not us,” Nipius assured me quickly.

“I don’t suppose it matters who … Then what? Was he furious?”

“Is Etna a volcano?”

I felt my eyebrows lift. “Was Thales so angry he might actually murder her?”

“Not him. Thales was always all talk and no go. He spent a long time raging at her, but he did seem to cool off.”

“You don’t think that was genuine? What made him settle, or seem to?”

“She must have got round him.”

“Know how she did that?”

The two waiters looked at me pityingly. I was pointedly informed that anyone could guess.

29 August

Four days before the Kalends of September (a.d. IV Kal. Sept.)

Two days before the wedding of Tiberius Manlius Faustus and Flavia Albia

They had no more to tell me about the dead dog or the long-lost waitress, so I let them go.

I gave up my inquiry that day. I call myself tough, but am not as strong as I would like; it is a relic of my early life. Mother had me diagnosed with rickets by the same kindly old doctor who helped her clear me of scabies. Glaucus, at the gym Father goes to, gave me exercises that I have done from adolescence, but I am stuck with soft bones.

Tiberius felt that after the long walk up the Viminal with the Three Graces, even he had had enough. We spent an easygoing evening together. We were subdued, and deliberately did not talk about the case.

The Ten Traders area seemed quiet that night too. There were fewer people out and about, as happens for no obvious reason. Just when you think you have taken the measure of a place, people change their habits. Maybe for an evening, sometimes forever. It reminds you to resist assumptions.

On that basis, I would cautiously avoid deciding yet that Thales, who had for so long been the alleged killer of his barmaid Rufia, had actually murdered his other barmaid, Rhodina. It was tempting. But why would everyone at the time of the murder fix on the wrong woman, not the victim in question?

Did two barmaids disappear simultaneously? Was that possible? People knew Rufia had vanished, but no one said anything about Rhodina. Why the difference? Either could simply have moved on to work somewhere else. A waitress with looks can always find employment; a waitress with only experience may find it harder, but she ought to succeed. If Thales was as awful as he sounded, and angry with her anyway, Rhodina might have slipped away without telling anyone. They might all have guessed why, so that aroused no comment. But why would the other one, Rufia, the queen of the bar, also go?

Stop, Albia! Let it rest. Cleanse your brain.

We retired to our room at an earlier hour than sometimes. Even the lumpy bed seemed attractive.

The ideal Roman wife is welcoming to her husband, not shy of intercourse. I might not be the safest choice for Tiberius now he wanted to remarry, but I would be a good wife to him. Well, once his wedding was over I would be. Meanwhile, when gray eyes turned to me with amorous intentions, he was the lover I wanted; it was easy to be welcoming.

We slept in each other’s arms, even though it was a sultry night. The weather must be slowly building toward a summer storm, though so far it refused to break. We awoke to a hot, sticky morning. We were up early, finding the temperature already uncomfortable. I dressed in the lightest gown I had with me, plus my loosest sandals; I wore no jewelry. I hoped I would not be required to chase about. Today would be hard. It was going to be hot.

We bought bread, which we took to eat at the Hesperides, since Tiberius was supposed to meet Gavius there. The night watchman told us Gavius came last night on his own for an advance inspection of the counters. “I’d better tell you-he sped off rather fast. I hope I didn’t upset him.”

“Oh? What happened, Trypho?”

“He had two huge dogs with him. We got talking, so I told him you had found the landlord’s old pet, and how it died by choking.”

Yesterday Tiberius must have told the workmen about Pudgy while I was talking to the two waiters. They then gossiped with Trypho. All our men were fascinated by the mystery of the skeletons; they were watching how Tiberius and I set about solving it. The foreman was probably holding bets on our success. Gambling for money was illegal but that never stopped anyone.