Ode To A Banker by Lindsey Davis Page A

doesn't like pastry. I had seen it when I took the tray in. I thought he would leave it.'

    'You were hoping to eat it yourself?'

    'He wouldn't have minded,' he muttered defensively.

    I said nothing, but that was interesting. I don't only mean that their cook served a rather eggy type of lunch. Nobody breaks off from work, investigates his tray, eats the one thing he dislikes, then abandons the rest. Somebody else must have been in that lobby. Maybe the killer himself passed that way when he left. Coolly grabbing a handful of his victim's meal? That would take nerve. Or else he was brutally callous.

    Mind you, if anybody spotted him on the way out, having a fistful of pastry and a mouthful of crumbs would have made him look casual.

    Fusculus approached, followed by one of his men.

    'This is Passus, Falco. You probably don't know him. Joined our team recently.'

    Passus looked at me with suspicion. He was a short, shock-haired neat type with a belt he was proud of and stubby hands. He had a quiet manner and was no raw recruit; I guessed he had been seconded from some other cohort. His air was competent but not too pushy. He was carrying a set of waxed tablets, with a bone stylus bending his right ear forward, for taking notes.

    'Didius Falco,' I introduced myself politely. I had always respected the men Petro gathered around him. He was a good judge and they responded well to him. 'Petronius Longus has called me in to assist on a consultancy basis.'
    Passus still said nothing, glancing sideways at Fusculus. He had been told, or had deduced, that I was an informer; he did not like it. 'Yes, it stinks,' I agreed. 'I'm no happier than you are. I have better things to do. But Petro knows I'm sound. I gather your squad is floundering in summer crime and needs to farin out the surplus.' I had had enough of justifying myself. 'Either that, or my dear friend Lucius has his hands full with a new girlfriend.'

    Fusculus jumped. Petro's love life fascinated his men. 'He's after a new one?'

    'Guesswork. He's said nix. You know how close he is. We'll only be sure when the next outraged husband comes to ask if we know why his turtledove is always tired ... So, Passus, what's the story from the staff here?'

    The new enquiry officer gave his report slightly stiffly at first, warming to the task: 'Aurelius Chrysippus had been occupying himself in his normal business. There were morning visitors; I took names. But he had been seen alive - when he asked for his lunch - after the last one is thought to have left.'

    'Thought?' I queried. 'Are visitors not monitored?'

    'The regime seems rather informal,' said Fusculus. 'There is a door porter but he doubles up as a water-carrier. If he is not at his post, people come and go as if the house was an extension of the shop.'

    'Casual.'

    'Greeks!' Apparently Fusculus harboured some old Roman prejudice against our cultured neighbours.

    'I thought they like to protect their womenfolk?'

    'No, they're just all over other peoples' women,' Fusculus sneered bitterly. A personal beef, no doubt of it. Find the female? I didn't even know that Fusculus had a girlfriend, let alone that he had had her pinched by some Piraeus skirt pirate.

    'They have plenty of staff about.' Passus wanted to continue with his notes. 'It was a normal day. Chrysippus did not seem out of sorts. Thealarin was raised by slaves just after midday. Most of them fled, terrified.'

    'Terrified of being blamed,' commented Fusculus. Well, the vigiles, with their usual light-handed tactics, were making sure the slaves' terror was justified.

    'Any of them touch the body?'

    'No, Falco.' Fusculus, as senior officer present, was quick to let me know the vigiles had checked that aspect. 'They say they only looked in and then ran - well, it's pretty repellent.'

    Passus took over again: 'We listened to their stories, then we carried out a hands and clothing check. No bloodstains on most of their tunics. One did have that spilt stuff from