The River God's Vengeance(66)

“He left?”

“Went right out through the front door. So Lucilius went upstairs with Galatea—”

“Wait a moment. Was Galatea with them the whole time?”

She thought about that. “No. She led Lucilius to the cloaked man’s table, then she went off. She went back to the table either just before the cloaked one left or just after. I wasn’t keeping a close eye on all this, you know. I had plenty of other patrons to attend to, even at that time of year.”

“All right. She went upstairs with Lucilius. Did she murder him?”

Andromeda shrugged her white shoulders. “I wouldn’t know. I wasn’t up there with them. Late in the evening there was a commotion. Another of the girls was taking a customer upstairs and she rapped on the door, didn’t get any answer, and went on in. She started screaming, and I ran up there. Lucilius was on the fioor, alone and dying from a stab wound.”

“Where was Galatea?”

“Nowhere to be found, then or later.”

“And you didn’t see her go?”

“This isn’t a prison. It’s not hard to leave. She could have just wrapped up in a palla and gone out.”

“In most lupanaria,“ I said, “the girls are kept locked up when they aren’t on duty, and the door is guarded.”

She snorted contempt. “And you’ve seen what frightened, beaten, washed-out drudges they are, haven’t you? My customers come here for enjoyment and congenial companionship, and I provide it. They pay more here than anywhere else, but the girls and boys are skilled, good-looking, and willing. There’s something wrong with men who go to a prison for sex.”

“You’ll get no argument from me there. So he was still alive when you found him?”

“Not by much, but breathing. I sent for the physician and he did what he could, but it was too late. The man babbled a little, nothing I could understand, then he croaked.”

“Who was the physician?”

“The one from the ludus, Asklepiodes.”

“If you sent for him, Lucilius lasted more than a few minutes.”

“I didn’t have to send far for Asklepiodes,” she said. “He was right down here in the courtyard, like he is most nights.”

“Asklepiodes is a regular?” I asked, astonished.

“He ought to be. He’s the only man in Rome who gets his entertainment here for free. We have an arrangement. A place like this needs a physician’s attention regularly.”

So Asklepiodes had a special arrangement with Andromeda? Well, well. “Is he here tonight?”

“He was here earlier. I’ll find him for you if he’s still around.” She raised a hand to the back of her wig and a man appeared at her side. Apparently she had a system of secret signals. The man was well built, heavily bearded, and wearing a woman’s dress. “Find the Greek doctor. Send him here,” she said. The odd person disappeared.

“What did you do once he’d died?” I asked.

“As I said, I recognized him, so I sent a boy to find his house and tell his family, or whoever was there, but he just wandered around lost all night. Have you ever tried to find an unfamiliar house in the dark? Anyway, there wasn’t much to be done before daylight. After that the Libitinarii arrived, and then the praetor’s man to get my story.”

A moment later, Asklepiodes arrived, beaming. He bowed to Andromeda. “Beauteous hostess,” then to me, “distinguished Aedile, how may I be of service?” The order in which he ranked our relative importance did not escape me.

“Sit down, old friend,” I said. “We were just discussing a murder.”

“You rarely talk about anything else,” he said.

“You two know each other, I see,” Andromeda said.

“For a long time,” I told her. “I can see that he hasn’t been bragging of our friendship to raise his stock around here.”

“In this neighborhood, my intimacy with great champions of the arena gains me more esteem than the friendship of any number of senators.” He was perfectly unabashed. “Are you still investigating the killings you were looking into yesterday?”

“He’s looking into the death of that ex-aedile,” Andromeda informed him.

“As it occurs, I think that man’s death and the killing of Lucius Folius and his wife may be—”

“Folius!” Andromeda spat on the colorful tiles. “The day he and that sow died ought to be commemorated as a holiday, with sacrifices and rejoicing!”

“You knew Folius?” I asked, startled.

“Ha! Who didn’t?” She laughed without mirth. “When he moved up to Rome from whatever town must have kicked him out—”