She gave me a sharper look, but I chose to pretend I had said nothing significant. She still did not know what I was hinting; she had seen too many men to remember who I was. I felt her lose interest – leaving me with a strong sense of unfinished business.
Unexpectedly she spun back to Petro: `I haven't got all day! What do you want?'
She was using our own separation routine; letting one relax, then trying to catch him off guard. Petro managed to avoid being thrown. His chin came up, but he turned it into a surly gesture by sweeping back his straight hair with one hand, like a dandy who didn't reckon on letting a mere woman make him jump. `To discuss the Emporium heist.'
`Oh that was a loud one!'. She rolled her eyes. They were still very beautiful: wide-set, large, dark as a winter evening, and melting with suggestiveness. Personally, I liked eyes with a more subtle challenge. But Lalage had nice eyes.
Petronius had noticed them, though only a close friend would know it. `Yes, they're talking about it everywhere – but nobody's whispering who did the dirty deed.'
`Who do you think did it?' Lalage asked, pretending to flatter him.
`I haven't time to waste thinking. I want names.'
She tried the innocent-little-woman trick: `Well what makes you believe I might know anything about thieves?'
Petro's temper was running short now. His teeth had locked. `You mean, apart from the fact that your downstairs parlour is full of sneaks who follow funerals to rob the mourners, door-knock thieves who work the rush-the-porter game, balcony-crawlers, basement rats, and that little runt who hangs the fake fly in peoples' faces, then slits their purse thongs while they're brushing it away?'
I was impressed. We had only glimpsed the trading room for a moment. Petro must have sharp eyes. He certainly knew the streets. And I knew him. I recognised the signs: he felt uneasy with the location and was working up to dragging Lalage over to his. station house. If she had been a well-bred schoolgirl who had never spoken to a public official he might have stood a chance. But he ought to realise what a fool he would look, trying to put an arm lock on a glittering saffron butterfly who would shriek abuse at him all the way to the Aventine. Arresting a brothel madam is never discreet.
`Are you talking raids again?' Lalage laughed. She knew he had lost his grip enough to give her the upper hand.
`He knows better,' I assured her. `By the time we can bring the espartos in, the joint will be clean. Macra probably gave the word straight after she finished massaging your magistrate.'
`Well I do hope she was thorough,' grinned the madam shamelessly. `A person of his status doesn't expect to be hustled!'
It seemed to me it was time the man was hustled out of office. Rome would never be cleaned up if every time Petronius brought a mugger to court the bad character could smile at a judge who had shared the ewer where he washed his privates after his Tuesday afternoon binge. The fellowship of Plato's had insidious tentacles. In fact that was only one aspect of our visit today that had an aura of ambidextrous ethics. The smack of sticky payments seemed to be lurking everywhere.
Lalage's diversion failed. Petronius Longus was strictly unamused. `Who's your landlord now?' he sprang on her. `Who runs this place since Nonnius did his singing from the high twig and Balbinus Pius took a sail?'
`What sort of a question's that?'
'Well it's not about who has decorating rights under your building tenancy. Who's the mighty man behind you, Lalage?' `I don't go in for boys' stuff.,
'Stifle the innuendo! Who's giving Plato protection? We proved in court that Balbinus used to cream off his percentage, so who skims Plato's now?'
`Nobody. Who needs it? I'm running everything myself.'
It was what we already suspected. Petronius screwed the corner of his mouth. `This had better be honest gen.'
`Who needs a man?' scoffed Lalage lightly. `I had it up to here with the old system. Balbinus demanded an exorbitant cut, then I was constantly giving presents to Nonnius to stop him breaking up the furniture – all in return for a supposed service we never saw. Any trouble had to be sorted out by my own staff. What happened when the Lycian blew away was typical – we tried to clear up ourselves. I was doing the hard work, and Balbinus was just milking the business. That's over. The only commerce I'm interested in now is when men are paying me!'
`Someone will try to take over his position,' Petronius insisted.
`Let them try!'
`If it hasn't happened yet, now Balbinus has left Rome you'll meet with pressure eventually. When it happens, I want to know.'
`Sorry,' she answered acidly. `You're in the same bumboat as all my customers: you'll get what you pay for – and no more!'
`That's closer to what I call a bargain,' Petronius responded, in his normal, level tone. `For the big item, I'll be buying.'
She heaved her bosom, setting up ripples of light from the jewellery. The effect was less worrying than the eye trick, but highly professional. `How much?'
`What it's worth. But I don't want shoddy goods or fakes.'
`You don't want much.' The last comment was amiable bluster. They had reached the real centre of the discussion; the terms were understood and more or less accepted by both sides. Whether that meant Lalage would ever produce any information was another matter.
`Bring me the name I need, and you won't regret it. You'll find me at the station house in the Thirteenth,' Petro announced politely.
`Oh go away,' she sneered, addressing me as if her patience with him had run out. `And take the Big Unsusceptible with you!'
We were leaving. I turned back at the last moment to add a courtesy of my own. Giving the famous whore a generous smile, I said, `I'm glad to see your ear healed up!'
While she and Petronius were thinking about it, I grabbed him by the elbow and we fled.
XXI
W E EMERGED UNSCATHED, though I for one wanted to head
for the nearest respectable bathhouse. `What was the crack about the lug, Falco?' I just grinned and looked mysterious.
The place seemed much emptier than when we arrived. News spreads.
The girl Macra was standing back at the outside door. She looked edgy, but when she saw we were leaving peacefully she relaxed. As we passed her I heard a young child's cry. Macra noticed my surprise. `Things happen, Falco!'
`I thought you were organised in places like this.' Some brothels were so organised, their expertise had led to them operating as neighbourhood abortionists.
`Losing a baby's illegal, isn't it, officer?' Macra gurgled at Petronius. He looked tense. We all knew it would be a long time before anyone bothered to take a prostitute to court for this. The unborn are protected if there's a legacy in it; the unborn with shameless mothers have few rights.
`Like to see around the nursery?' the girl then offered Petro. There was a distinct undertone of offering him a prepubertal titbit. He declined in silence, and she giggled. `You're a hard man to tempt! Maybe I'll have to come and see you in your station house.'
`Maybe I'll show you the cell!' Petro growled in annoyance. A mistake.
`It's a promise!' Macra shrieked. `We know a client in the vigiles who does amazing things with chains during 'interviews'.'
Petronius had had enough. He took out his note tablet formally: `And who would that be?'
