`I'll bear with you while you're learning to do it.' She smiled. Suddenly she was winsome again.
I refused to be charmed. `Don't worry. I learn quickly.'
Helena Justina restrained herself, plainly making allowances for the tetchiness that had followed my falling out with my best friend. This only made me more angry, but she found a new subject to talk about: `I haven't had a chance to tell you, Marcus. Yesterday when I came home another message about Tertulla was pinned in a bag on the door. And this…' She reached to a shelf and produced a gold object. I recognised the overflown bulla that my sister Galla had hung around her daughter's neck, the amulet which was supposed to protect Tertulla from the evil eye. Its powers had been sorely overtaxed. Now some fool had sent the useless thing to me.
`So they're telling us this is genuine. What are they asking me to cough up?' Even to my own ears I still sounded gruff.
`A thousand sesterces.'
`Do you happen to know what they asked from your father?'
Helena looked apologetic. `Ten thousand.'
`That's all right. When they come down to a hundred I might consider it.'
.'You're all heart, Marcus!'
`Don't worry. I suspect they know they grabbed the wrong child this time. There's no money, but they don't want to lose face.'
`If they reduced the price once they may be weakening,' Helena said. `They seem like amateurs. People who knew what they were doing would pile pressure on us, then keep asking for more and more.'
`I don't belittle the situation, but we may as well not panic. Are there any instructions in the message?'
`No just the price. they want.' She was so reluctant to bother me she had not even let me see the message. Luckily I could trust Helena to tell me anything relevant. It was a relief to let her handle this. Even though I was in a filthy mood, I managed to feel some gratitude.
`We'll hear from them again, I'm sure. Sweetheart, if I'm too busy, do you think you can watch for the next contact?'
`Does that mean I should stay at home?' Helena sounded doubtful.
`Why? Have you an appointment to hear an epic poem in sixteen scrolls?'
`Certainly not. I did want to try that other house where a child is supposed to have been taken.'
`No luck yesterday?'
`I was told the woman was not at home.' `True, or a fable?'
`I couldn't tell. Since they were being polite they implied I could try another time, so I shall make sure I do.' She looked thoughtful. `Marcus, when the amulet was left there, I found myself thinking about the skip baby. Remember, he had a broken thread around his neck. Maybe it's a kidnap victim too. These people I haven't managed to see yet were supposed to have lost a baby. It was reported by the child's nurse. Maybe they will listen to me if I can tell them he's been found.'
Suddenly I experienced a huge pang of regret that she and I were not working together. I reached for her hands. `Would it help if I came with you?'
`I should say not.' Helena smiled at me. `With due respect,
Marcus, at the house in question an informer would be someone to eject. I'm trying to cross the private bastions of a very important magistrate.'
A thought struck me. `What's his name?'
Helena told me. My lawyers advise me not to mention it; I don't want a libel action. Besides, men like that get enough publicity.
I laughed throatily. `Well, if you can use the information, I last saw the most excellent personage in question having his fancy tickled by a high-class prostitute.'
She looked worried, and then perhaps offended. One of the reasons I had always loved her so dearly was that Helena Justina was absolutely straight. The idea of blackmailing a man who was entitled to wear the purple toga to show his distinction would never cross her mind.
`Which brothel was it, Marcus?'
`I promise I've only been in one you know about – Plato's Academy.'
`That's interesting,' said Helena. She was trying to make it significant.
I knew that game. I had been in the enquiry business longer than she had. I let her dream.
LI
MENTIONING PLATO'S HAD given me an idea.
Reluctant to work on my own if it proved unnecessary, I did take myself first to the Thirteenth district patrol house to see if Petro would acknowledge me. Neither he nor any of his team were there. When I tried to go in, a couple of fire-fighters appeared. They seemed not to know about my job tracing grafters, but someone had ordered them not to admit me. I tried to look unimpressed by their surly behaviour, though I confess it shook me.
I realised afterwards that Petronius and his men would be attending the funeral of Linus. The patrolmen must have thought it odd that I had not gone myself.
Had Petro and I not quarrelled I would have paid my own respects. It seemed better to avoid causing trouble, so I honoured the dead man privately. He was young and had seemed straightforward. He deserved a better fate.
I walked down to the Circus, made my way to Plato's, and with more skill than I had applied at the patrol house, I talked my way inside. An expert informer is not easily thrown. I even managed to get myself taken straight to see Lalage.
It was still early morning and not much seemed to be happening. The brothel was in a lethargic mood. Just a few local clients indulging on their way to their employment, and at the time I arrived, mostly leaving. The corridors were empty; it could have been a lodging house, except that at certain points stood mounds of wilting garlands or neatly stacked empty amphorae waiting to be taken out. There was some general cleaning with mops and sponges going on, but quietly. The night shift needed their sleep, presumably.
Lalage herself must have been snatching a rest between clients. Since a prostitute works on her back – well, often horizontally – Lalage's idea of a rest was not to relax on a reading couch with a Virgilian eclogue, but to climb up steps and replenish the oil in a large icon ceiling light.
`I know,' I grinned. `You can't trust slaves to do anything.'
`Slaves here have other duties, with my customers.' She swayed slightly, nearly going off balance as she tilted her jug against the last lamp. The effect was decorously erotic, though probably unintentional. I stepped closer and prepared to place a steadying hand on her backside, though when she managed to remain upright modesty stayed my helpful paw. `You're Falco, aren't you?'
`Fame at last.'
`Notoriety,' she answered. Something in her manner told me this might be the kind of notoriety I could do without.
`In the wrong quarters? I had a visit from the Miller and Little Icarus. Do you know that pair?'
`Nasty. I barred them.'
`I'm not surprised… I've seen your respectable clients…'She did not react. It would take a determined niggler to worry Lalage. `My two visitors came to threaten me. Obviously my name is being mentioned in rougher circles than I like.' I was trying to obtain some sign that she was in contact with the Balbinus gang; her response was completely negative.
I offered a wrist to lean on as she descended from her perch, oil flask on the drip. She stepped down, brushing against me with a firm body warm through a single layer of finely woven cloth. `And what does the notorious Marcus Didius want with me?'
`Marcus? That's informal! When I called with Petronius, I don't believe we got on first-name terms. Has someone well informed been talking, or might you and I be old friends?'
