'No.' Useless. I was trying to net moonlight.
The more times she denied it, the more I doubted her word. Even if the desperate people did not lie, they withheld information. But if they could get away with it, they lied. Truth was power. To keep it gave them a last shred of hope. To pass it on left them utterly exposed.
'Albia!' Even Helena sounded sharp. 'Nobody will harm you if you talk about this. Falco will arrest the men who did it.'
'I was not there.'
Even though Albia was so uncommunicative, I could tell one thing: she was absolutely terrified.
'Well, that was a dead loss.' I tried not to gloat.
'I'm really annoyed with her.' At least Helena did not blame me. 'Albia's a silly girl.'
'She's just scared. She's been scared all her life.'
'Well, haven't we all!' From Helena Justina that was a shock. I stared. She pretended she had not said it.
'Now can I go out to play?' I whined.
'Things to do, Marcus.'
'What things, beloved?'
'Have a look at the lawyer, say.'
'Your friend Popillius?' I hoped in vain for praise that I remembered his name.
'I don't feel friendly towards him and he's not mine.'
'Good. I can put up with a lot,' I joked, 'but if you run off with a legal man, that's it, my girl!'
'Really?' she demanded in a light tone.
'Oh yes.' I frowned. 'Dearest, you know that I cannot stand lawyers.'
The day was looking up. Popillius was presumably slick-aren't they all in their business references?-but I found him in the act of being fleeced.
Helena had to let me out to conduct this next interview. She came with me, however. I waited patiently while she first fed Favonia; it gave me a chance to make snooty remarks about wishing my daughters to lead a quiet domestic life, not to be dragged out to unsuitable venues as they were last night. That enabled Helena to say she wished I could set them a good example then. Thus sniping, though cheerfully, we steamed off in a morning that was still good and hot, to a small rented house where a lawyer had set up in business. Despite a flamboyant chalked sign outside that promised the best prosecutions north of the Alps and tactful, cheap defense speeches, clients had yet to take advantage of the services he offered. I looked for a no-win, no-fee notice but of course failed to find it.
Popillius sat sunbathing in a courtyard, where he waited for all those people who wanted outrageous compensation for wrongs. While at a loose end, he had been found by a British entrepreneur. A shy-looking hopeful had wandered in from the street. He had tufty hair and wide-apart short legs, and had set out a big flat tray of carved jet jewelry and trifles.
There were more of these jet-sellers than fleas on a cat; there always had been. In reality the soldiers in the legions, wanting presents for their girlfriends, snapped up the best-quality stuff while they were up on the frontier. In most parts of southern Britain there was as much chance of buying genuine sea-washed black stuff from Brigantia as of finding real turquoise scarabs beside the Pyramids in Alexandria.
I liked this seller's patter. He owned up that there was fakery in the trade. His cheeky premise was that the best fakes were so good it was worth buying them in their own right. He was promising to let the lawyer corner the market, in the hope he would later make a killing when the fake stuff became openly collectible.
Helena and I watched peacefully. As Popillius set about fetching the cash for his hoard, we parked under what would have been a fig tree if we were in the Mediterranean. Here it was some anonymous bush. Someone appeared to be aware of the concept of shady courtyards with cool pergolas, though if you looked more closely, the yard had been recently used for keeping draft animals. It must have been roughly cleaned up for the lawyer when he wanted to rent.
The jet salesman made a feeble attempt to interest us, indicating that I should buy a trinket for Helena. He could see what a mistake that was. She herself rebuffed him. I waved him away more gently. 'Sorry, pal; left my purse in the bedroom.' He knew I was lying, but he strolled off happily with his profits from the lawyer.
Popillius was a clean-cut sandy type. Thirties, maybe. Not quite too young to carry professional weight, but giving the impression he had energy and ambition, as well as his cynical greed for fees. He had a light, upper-crust voice, which was hard to place. A new man quite recently, I would say, maybe with grandparents who made it into the middle class, provincials even. Close enough for infant Popillius to have heard their tales of backwoods life, and to be sufficiently enthralled to tackle a remote province himself. Either that, or he absconded with a client's funds and had needed to leave Rome fast.
'This is my husband, Didius Falco,' Helena said. 'I mentioned him last night.' She had not told me I had been discussed. Now I was stuck, not knowing what role she had assigned me. I grinned sheepishly.
'Greetings, Falco.' Thank goodness, Popillius himself had no recollection of his chat at dinner with Helena. He was desperately trying to remember who and what I was, though he did remember Helena. Jealousy works two ways: I hoped he did not remember her too well. Lawyers womanize almost as hard as they drink. I knew; I had met plenty in my work.
We talked a bit about what Popillius hoped for in Britain. I suggested he was a slave-chaser, suing people for the return of runaways or for seducing someone else's human property. He reckoned British society was insufficiently slave-oriented to bring in much business of that type. 'There are slaves condemned to hard labor; they simply slog until they die, in remote locations. Domestically, if a household owns a couple of little kitchen workers, that's it. They are far too well treated-they end up marrying the master or the mistress. No incentive to run away, and they don't even seem to get laid by the neighbors much.'
'Ah, what you need are big estates where the labor force is money; if a body goes missing, it's a commercial loss.'
'Better still, I need to be able to demand compensation for expensive Greek accountants, masseurs, and musicians!' Popillius laughed.
'You have looked into the prospects, then?' I asked.
'Only joking,' he fibbed. 'Bringing a high-class legal service to the province is my mission. I want to do commercial and maritime casework.'
I told him that was highly commendable. He seemed unused to irony.
'Sorry, Falco-I don't recall what your wife said you do?'
Sometimes I cannot be bothered to bluff. 'Government work. I'm looking into a suspicious death that seems to be gangster-related.'
Popillius raised his light-colored eyebrows. 'That is surely not why you have come to visit me?' If he was offended, he was working out just how wronged, financially, he intended to be.
'I am looking at everyone,' I assured him gently. 'I hate to disappoint you, but letting me eliminate you from my inquiry won't lead to slander fees!'
Popillius gave me a level, warning stare. 'I don't bother with slander claims, Falco.'
The implication was that if I upset him, he would do for me in much more dangerous ways.
I smiled. 'How long have you been in the province?'
'Just a couple of days.' Not enough to be my suspect-if it was the truth.
'Ever found your way to a drinking dive called the Shower of Gold?'
'Never. I prefer to entertain myself at home, with a well-aged amphora.'
'Very wise,' I said. 'You can buy a good Italian variety, even this far north. Let it settle well. Then dribble it through a wine-strainer two or three times-and pour it down a drain. Table wines from Germany and Gaul seem to survive the route march better.'
'Thank you for your advice,' he replied.
'It's no trouble,' I said.
There was no point hanging around just to discuss his gustation habits. Lawyers are snobs. He was bound to believe in more expensive vintages than I ever thought worthwhile for home consumption with a pan-fried mullet. The grand wines of the Empire stood no chance of traveling well so far as this, but I deduced it would be hard to shake his prejudice.
I could see no sign that he had companions staying here, and if he had only just arrived, what new friends
