‘Oh . . . maybe a hundred,’ said Gornia.

‘A hundred?’ My voice was faint. ‘That’s bulk-buying by a maniac.’

‘You did ask. Don’t worry about it, I told you.’

‘I am relaxed.’ I was anxious. ‘So, Gornia—excuse me, but why don’t we just hand this huge batch over, and collect our fees? I don’t want to be stuck with a glut of forgotten heroes and disgraced generals.’ Everyone who might buy such junk had gone to their summer villas at Neapolis. There, many would be gazing at horrible statues my father had sold them on previous occasions, and thinking never again.

‘It will work out,’ Gornia assured me. ‘Geminus said to hold off a bit . . .’ He looked embarrassed. ‘We ought to pay for them.’

Now I saw it. This was neither unexpected nor insurmountable: ‘Daylight! No ready funds?’

Odd, that. There were plenty of funds, as I knew well. In fact I was looking for outgoings, to set against the inheritance tax.

‘We had the collateral. We just couldn’t pass it to the vendors. I went. I went down there with the cash myself. Geminus always sent me, because I look so ordinary,’ Gornia told me endearingly. ‘Nobody ever robs me on the road. But I couldn’t find them.’

‘His suppliers?’

‘They vanished.’ Gornia looked relieved to squeeze it out. ‘Bit of a novelty, isn’t it?’

My father had been in many scrapes. Sometimes debt featured, but he covered it eventually. His cash flow only faltered temporarily. He was good at what he did.

It was rare for anyone in Rome, and never Geminus, to try to pay a creditor but to fail. I was used to the other system: those with claims came forward at a run. Their invoices were immaculate. They brought their own strongboxes to take away their cash. I coughed up. They were happy. End of story.

I decided I had better look at these statues myself. Then I would seek out the suppliers. I was an informer; I should be able to track them down.

I knew many good reasons why people who owe money vanish. But when people who are owed payment disappear, it tends to be because either they have grown old and confused—or they have quietly died. If Livia Primilla and Julius Modestus (those were their names) had passed away, fellow feeling made me want to help whatever poor heir needed to collect in this debt.

I just wanted to be a good citizen. But this was when the situation gently began tipping from straightforward into the kind of dark enquiry I was used to.

7

Modestus and Primilla lived at Antium, nearly thirty miles away. I dreaded announcing to Helena that I was going on a trip. The baby’s death still gnawed. It was the wrong time to leave home. However, some god was on my side. Some deity with time on their hands in Olympus decided Falco needed help.