‘With perverts. Of course, people who hold other theories will argue that around the Via Appia tombs there are plenty of comers and goers, squatters and campers, so how can we tell?’

‘And how can you?’

‘As well as the post mortem filleting job, we found seats that had been moved out of the tomb; discarded amphorae; obvious food evidence. There was human shit and it was the right vintage.’

I winced. ‘Your job is charming.’

‘My job is to get it right and not let bastards bamboozle me.’

‘If the Modestus killers had wanted to play with the courier’s boy like that, all they had to do was take him away from the road out of sight. Instead they placed him right beside the road-edge ditch, where he was bound to be spotted immediately.’

‘Funny, that!’ observed Petro. ‘The whole thing stinks—though a stupid spy might fall for it.’

He did need his rest and while he brooded, Petronius Longus fell asleep. I did not disturb him. I sat on there, letting him snore on the other daybed, while I continued thinking.

Maia looked out once. She brought me some warmed honey mulsum, silently curling my fingers around the beaker, then roughing up my curls. After these sisterly attentions, she left us to it.

31

It was time to look harder at Anacrites. Helena was right about how we could do that. Escorting my womenfolk to a soirée at his old-style Palatine mansion would not have been my choice, but his invitation had arrived and Rome is a city of civilised dining. Commerce and corruption of all kinds are furthered by social evenings of this type. I wanted to get close enough to him to work out why he wanted to be close to me.

At my members-only gym, Glaucus’ at the back of the Temple of Castor and Pollux, I bathed and put myself in the safe hands of the sneery barber. First, I had Glaucus give me a fierce weapons practice, followed by a session with his most brutal masseur. When Glaucus asked if all this preparation meant I was off on another dangerous mission overseas, I told him where I was going that evening. His advice was to watch my footwork, watch what I was given to eat, but above all watch my back. He had met Anacrites. When the spy had applied to join the gym as a regular, Glaucus found he was so over-subscribed he could only put Anacrites on the very competitive waiting list . . . Anacrites was still there.

‘Say no when he passes you the mushrooms,’ Glaucus hinted. An old Roman allusion to poison. ‘Better still, here’s an idea. You got plenty of slaves off your old man when he died, didn’t you? Take one along as your taster. Be sensible, Falco. You’re paid up here until the end of the year—you don’t want to waste part of your subscription.’