The Lydian Baker (Marcus Corvinus Book 4) Read online

  The guy's eyes never shifted. 'Nice address. I'll tell him. If and when I see him.'

  'You do that.' I signalled to Lysias to get back onto the box and climbed aboard the carriage. 'Thanks for your help. It's been a real pleasure meeting you.'

  He didn't answer, not that I expected him to. No sign from upstairs, either. I gave the order to Lysias and we set off back towards Athens.

  'Corvinus, you are not getting involved!'

  'What with?' I stretched out on the couch while Bathyllus poured me a restoring cup of Setinian.

  'I don't know what with.' Perilla threw herself into a chair by the ornamental pool. 'But I don't like the feel of this. Whatever it is you are staying out of it for a change.'

  'That's fine by me.' I let the nectar slip past my tonsils. 'As far as I'm concerned as from now the matter's closed, if it was ever open. Whatever the game was, Argaius obviously doesn't want to play any more. I'll write to Priscus tonight. In fact, you write the letter for me and I'll sign it.'

  'Don't be silly!'

  'Perilla.' I sat up. 'This Baker business is nothing to do with me, okay? My aesthetic interest in statues is zilch, it's not my money, the whole thing smells worse than six-month-old fish sauce in a heatwave, and if Priscus wants to force the guy into conning him out of two years' income he can get on the first boat over here and do it himself. Now does that satisfy you or do I have to draw you a map?'

  Perilla came over to the couch and kissed me. Grinning, I put my arms round her waist and pulled her down beside me. Yeah, well, maybe I had sounded a bit tetchy.

  'It's just that I can recognise the signs,' she said quietly. 'Once you get something into your head it doesn't shift. And if past experiences are anything to go by then your personal interest or lack of it has nothing to do with anything.'

  'Yeah. Well. This time it's different. Believe me, lady, the best thing that could possibly happen is that nobody will hear anything from this Argaius guy ever again. Even if the Baker is genuine, the world's lived without it for long enough and only screwballs like Priscus will care a toss if it stays lost forever.' I kissed her ear. 'And just to show that I really couldn't care less, what would you say to an early night?'

  Her lips twitched. 'Is that a proposition?' she said.

  'What else would it be?'

  'Fine.' She kissed me again. 'Just checking.'

  We were half way up the stairs when Bathyllus soft-shoed into the hall and cleared his throat. Shit. This was always happening. The little guy had as much sense of timing as a third-rate Oscan tambourinist.

  'What is it now, Bathyllus?' I said wearily.

  'I'm sorry to disturb you, sir...'

  'Then don't.'

  '...but you have a visitor. From the Piraeus.'

  I groaned. Bugger. I knew I should've kept my mouth shut when Prince Charming gave me the bum's rush outside the cookshop. Still, it was done and I had only myself to blame. 'Don't tell me, sunshine. His name's Argaius, and he wants to talk statues, right?'

  'Marcus –' Perilla began.

  'Yeah, yeah, I know, but–'

  Bathyllus cleared his throat again. 'Her name is Chrysoulla, sir,' he said stiffly, 'and she is an extremely upset young lady. I've asked her to wait in the porch.'

  Oh, hell. The plot thickened, and with a woman, no less. I didn't even look at Perilla.

  She was a honey. Small and slim, mid twenties, hair jet black and wavy under her headscarf, face like the Praxiteles Persephone. Apart from the puffy eyes and smudged makeup, that is. Bathyllus was right, she was upset as hell.

  'Valerius Corvinus?'

  'That's me,' I said. Somebody behind me coughed. I looked over my shoulder and grinned. 'Oh, yeah. And the lady with the set jaw and the green glint in her eye is my wife Perilla.' So she'd followed me downstairs after all. Well, I supposed that was fair. With a hot little number like this hammering on our door after the lamps were lit she had a right to be curious.

  Our visitor took a deep breath and bit her lip. 'You were at our house this morning.'

  'You're Argaius's wife?'

  She nodded. 'I didn't come to the door. I'm sorry, but there were reasons.'

  'You want to come in properly?' Without waiting for an answer I turned to Bathyllus. 'Bring the wine jug, little guy.'

  'And some fruit juice, Bathyllus,' Perilla said firmly. 'With two cups.'

  'Whatever.' I led the way into the living room. 'Have a seat. Make yourself comfortable.'

  Chrysoulla sat stiffly on the edge of the guest chair. She was nervous as a cat. I lay down on the couch and Perilla took her usual place by the pool.

  'Now,' I said. 'Being a foreigner I'm not too sure about how Greeks do business, but I'd bet good money they don't send their wives round to clients' houses alone after dark. Especially when they could've talked face to face the same morning. So where's Argaius?'

  'I don't know.' Her hands twisted in her lap.

  'The guy outside the cookshop told me he was out of town on family business. That isn't true?'

  A pause. 'No.'

  'Marcus, stop it!' Perilla was looking frosty as hell. 'This isn't an interrogation. Or it shouldn't be.' She turned to Chrysoulla and said gently: 'Your husband's disappeared, hasn't he? When did it happen?'

  'Last night, ma'am. He said he had to meet someone. About the Baker.'

  I opened my mouth to speak, but Perilla shot me a look before turning back to the girl.

  'Did he say who?'

  'No. He never tells me nothing –' She stopped and then said carefully, 'Anything. About the business. He just said he had a meeting with a buyer. On Mounychia.'

  Uh-oh. This I didn't like the sound of. Mounychia was the old quarry area to the north east of Zea Harbour, and what few buildings there were in that quarter were shanties or slums. No one who had enough cash to be interested in the Baker would live on Mounychia, so it had to be an assignation. A clandestine assignation. And that stank like dead oysters in July.

  'He didn't come back?' Perilla said.

  The girl shook her head. 'No. And it's been a whole day now.'

  Bathyllus padded in with the wine and fruit juice. Chrysoulla took a token sip and laid the cup down.

  'There's no chance that he's simply been delayed?' Perilla asked. 'Or that he's gone on somewhere else?'

  'He said it'd only take a couple of hours, ma'am. A preliminary meeting.' Chrysoulla stumbled over the phrase. 'Anyway, he would've sent a message. But that's not why I'm worried.'

  'No?'

  'Just before midnight someone knocked on the downstairs door. We keep it barred at night, even when we're both in. I thought it was Argaius, but it wasn't.'

  I set down my wine cup. 'Don't tell me. The guy I met in the street today, outside the cookshop. Right?'

  She swallowed. 'Yes, lord.'

  'You know him?'

  'I'd never seen him before. He didn't do anything, he just told me that if I wanted to see my husband again I should stay at home and not answer the door to no one till he said different.'

  'So why come and see me now?'

  'Because I'm scared,' she said simply. 'And because there's no one I can go to.'

  'What about family? Friends?' That was Perilla.

  'Argaius hasn't any family, ma'am, not living, anyway. And mine are in Crete. As for friends we've none that could help. And the law won't be interested because' – she hesitated – 'well, they just wouldn't be, that's all.' She looked at me. 'I hoped that a Roman like the lord here would have...might be able to...' Her shoulders began to shake.

  Uh-oh. There went the interview.

  'Marcus,' Perilla said, 'Take your wine into the dining room, please.'

  'Uh, yeah. Yeah, okay.' I sidled out quickly.

  Not unwillingly, though: I needed the chance to think.

  4.

  I parked my superfluous carcass on the dining room couch. What the hell was going on here? Sure, the basic scenario was obvious: Argaius had been suckered into a phoney busine
ss assignation on Mounychia by Prince Charming or his boss, probably the latter because Prince Charming hadn't exactly struck me as the artistic type. The 'why' was obvious, too: whoever had snatched the guy had done it to get his hands on the Baker without going through the tedious process of actually buying it. I didn't know much about Greek business etiquette, but I'd bet that wasn't normal practice. Which meant that someone out there wanted Priscus's statue pretty badly. Badly enough to put themselves outside the law to get it.

  A straightforward assessment of the situation, right? Only from the angle I'd been coming from so far it made as much sense as an oyster running for consul. If this was a scam like I'd been assuming then lifting Argaius was crazy. The corollary of that was that maybe the statue was genuine after all, and Prince Charming's boss knew it. On the other hand, bubblehead Chrysoulla had let slip that if Argaius wasn't exactly crooked he was the next thing to it, certainly the kind of citizen whose disappearance the authorities wouldn't bend over backwards to investigate. So the guy had form, and guys with form who offer to sell rich punters long-lost solid gold statues with Herodotean pedigrees for large amounts of gravy rate pretty low on anyone's credibility scale. On the other other hand, even if by some miracle Argaius was playing straight then how the hell had a small-time Piraeus crook got his hands on a seriously-missing six-hundred-year-old art treasure in the first place?

  Conversely, the whole deal might still be phoney as a landlord's tears, and whoever had kidnapped Argaius was just a mad, misguided, gormless enthusiast like Priscus with all the common sense and social conscience of a walnut...

  My brain was beginning to hurt. I poured out a full cup of wine and downed it in one. What did it matter, anyway? Perilla had had a point: I'd no personal interest in this, and just thinking about spending that much on a statue, solid gold or not, genuine or not, brought me out in hives. The best thing I could do was send Chrysoulla down to Watch headquarters with a note for the commander asking as a favour if he'd look into the matter and then write to Priscus saying the deal had fallen through. And if that meant screwing up Mother's sex life for the next few months then tough cheese. She'd just have to spend her time in Baiae taking cold baths and learning to crochet.

  I was getting up to give our uninvited guest the polite brush-off when Perilla appeared in the doorway.

  'She's all right now,' she said. 'It's safe to come back through.'

  'Fine.' I picked up the wine jug. 'Just give me five minutes in the study first, okay?'

  'To do what?'

  'To write a letter for her to show Callippus.' Callippus was the City Watch commander.

  Perilla was frowning. 'Wouldn't it be better if you went in person?'

  'What for? She's a big girl, she can manage these things on her own, and the guy won't eat her.'

  'Yes, but you could explain matters yourself in more detail, couldn't you?'

  Jupiter! I thought I was being crystal clear here, but obviously something wasn't getting through. Maybe I was more tired than I'd thought. 'Perilla,' I said, 'listen. For once I'm going to take your advice, okay? I'm going to drop this thing like a hot brick, right now.'

  'But Marcus, dear, you can't do that!'

  I stared at her. 'Run that past me again, would you? I must've missed something.'

  'The poor girl is in a terrible state. You heard what she said about having no one to go to for help. And whatever you put in your letter you know perfectly well that Callippus is not going to take any action whatsoever.'

  'Maybe not, but that's up to him. Argaius is a crook, after all. Chrysoulla practically admitted it.'

  'That has nothing to do with it. He's Chrysoulla's husband and he has gone missing under very suspicious circumstances. If the authorities won't take action then someone ought to.'

  'Not me, lady.'

  'Very well.' Her jaw set. 'Then I most certainly will.'

  Oh, shit. Double shit. I knew that tone. There was a flash of green on the wall as our friendly household gecko streaked for cover.

  'Perilla,' I said slowly. 'Are you serious about this?' She didn't even bother to answer. 'Only let's just get things straight here and now so's there's no comeback later. You actually want me to start digging the dirt on this Baker scam after all?'

  'I want you to find the girl's husband for her, yes.'

  'Don't fudge. Just answer the question.'

  'Marcus...'

  'Uh-uh.' I was beginning to enjoy myself. Perilla was caught, and it wasn't often I got the chance to see her squirm. 'I'm happy either way. Just give me a straight yes or no.'

  'Corvinus, I will kill you for this. I swear.'

  'No swearing. Besides, Chrysoulla may be a bubblehead, but she's a stunner. And I never could resist stunners who ask me to do something for them. As you know yourself from experience.' I was grinning, and although she didn't say anything Perilla's lips twitched. 'So. Put up or shut up. Is it yes or no?'

  'Marcus Valerius Corvinus, you are an absolute rat.'

  'Admitted. Yes or no?'

  She bent forward and kissed me slowly. 'Yes,' she said.

  'Okay. So let's do it.'

  Chrysoulla was dabbing her nose with a napkin. She looked like a small and very sexy dormouse.

  'I'm sorry, lord,' she said.

  'Hey, that's all right.' I poured myself another cup of Setinian and lay down on the couch. This time Perilla lay down beside me. 'You mind answering a few more questions?'

  That got me a guarded look. 'What sort of questions?'

  'Nothing complicated. If we're going to help then we need some information. First off, what exactly do you know about the Baker?'

  'Nothing. I told you, Argaius doesn't talk to me about work.'

  'You know what it is?'

  'Of course.' She seemed proud of herself. 'A solid gold statue, from the old days. Argaius says it's over five hundred years old.'

  'Have you seen it? Do you know where it is?'

  'No, lord.'

  'Which question's that an answer to?'

  She hesitated, frowning. I reckoned we were working at the limit of the lady's linguistic and intellectual capacities here.

  'Both,' she said at last.

  Well, I hadn't expected anything else. If Argaius hadn't discussed the ordinary day-to-day stuff over their breakfast porridge he was hardly likely to have told her where he'd cached their key to a fortune. And the odds on the statue being in the Piraeus flat doubling as a towel rack weren't worth quoting.

  'So you can't tell us anything?' I said. 'Nothing at all? Like where your husband got it from, for example?'

  Her brow cleared. 'Oh, I know that, lord! It's a family heirloom.'

  I sighed. Yeah. Sure. And I was a pygmy with a grass skirt and a bone through my nose. A four-and-a-half foot solid gold statue handed down the family line like Aunt Calliste's Corinthian vase I just wouldn't swallow. Still, Argaius had had to tell her something, no doubt, and even Chrysoulla wouldn't believe the old chestnut of the Baker having fallen off the back of a delivery cart.

  'Okay, let's change tack,' I said. 'What about this guy your husband was going to meet in Mounychia?'

  'I told you, lord. He just said a man. A "potential customer"'. The careful phrasing again, like she was quoting. Probably she was.

  'Had he mentioned anyone before? Anyone who was interested in the Baker?'

  'Oh, yes.' She brightened again. 'A man in Rome. Very rich, but a bit' – she spun a finger against her temple – 'you know.'

  'Yeah, I know.' I sighed again: it was as good a description of Priscus as I could've given. 'Forget him. That's the guy I'm agenting for. Anyone else? Someone more local, maybe?'

  'No. At least, no one I know. But then Argaius –'

  'Didn't talk to you about the business. Yeah. I've gathered that.' I elbowed Perilla in the ribs. 'You got any questions, Aristotle?'

  'Only one,' Perilla said. 'For you, Corvinus, actually. How did your cookshop friend know you'd be coming round to Argaius's this morning
?'

  I opened my mouth to answer – and then closed it again. Fair point. Of course, it could've been coincidence, but still... Especially since our star informant here didn't know of any other punters in the running. It was worth thinking about, anyway. And while we were on the subject of our star informant...

  'Hey, Bathyllus!' I shouted. The little guy wasn't actually in the room, but I knew professional pride would've kept him within yelling distance. Sure enough he padded in before the echoes had faded.

  'Yes, sir.'

  'Make up a spare bed,' I said. 'Our guest here's sleeping over.'

  Bathyllus looked at Perilla, eyebrows raised. She nodded.

  ‘Oh, no, lord!' The dormouse was looking shocked. 'I couldn't! It wouldn't be proper!'

  'Look, Chryssoula,' I said. 'Go home now and if your pal with the sausage finds out where you've been you're in trouble up to your earrings. Besides, if this whole thing's a mare's nest and Argaius has been out on the tiles the guy can do a little worrying on his own account.' I'd've laid out good money that wherever the hell Argaius was he wasn't tomcatting, but there was no point in making things worse for her than they were already. 'First thing tomorrow morning we go down to City Watch Headquarters and have a word with the boss. After that we take things as they come. Agreed?'

  'Very well, lord. Thank you.'

  'Don't mention it. Go with Bathyllus, okay?'

  She left, still sniffing.

  From the looks of things, I had a busy day ahead. An early night still seemed a good idea. I ran a hand down Perilla's arm.

  'Bed, lady?' I said.

  'Bed.' She smiled.

  Ah, well. Better late than never.

  5.

  The main headquarters of the City Watch are off the north side of the Marketplace, behind Herm Porch. Sure, the City and the Piraeus are separate jurisdictions, but Callippus was a friend of mine, or at least a good acquaintance, and to get Chrysoulla any sort of attention at all would need a favour, even if it did come second hand. In this instance I didn't mind asking: unusually for a Greek, Callippus had a genuine soft spot for Romans. He even spoke decent Latin, and he liked the chance to practise.