man. After all, if somebody identifies him, the finger of suspicion may point at them.’
The Callistus agent gazed around the audience. Most were intent on Gornia selling Father’s carpets. ‘So who is it, Flavia Albia?’
‘My guess is he or they have already left.’
The negotiator went off, too, without another word.
I felt Niger had no connection with the killing. Mind you, being plausible was his job.
My next task was to move casually about the audience, making a closer inspection of everyone who had bid on the chest unsuccessfully. I took one of the porters to introduce me to them. I still thought the killer would have been crazy to attempt to purchase the box, but you never know. Killers can be stupid.
I found that those who had shown interest were all regular dealers and bidding for themselves, apart from one shipper we had not dealt with before, but he had only arrived in Rome two days ago, giving him an alibi.
Out of politeness I went and said hello to Faustus and company. They were still fingering goods and making themselves agreeable to all and sundry.
None bothered with warm greetings for me. Laia Gratiana applied an expression of austere distaste. ‘Do you often do that, Flavia Albia?’
‘Take an auction? Not often – but, as you saw, I know how.’
‘Quite a skill!’ blared Trebonius Fulvo, not bothering to introduce himself – a man who assumed everyone knew him. He was the one with the odd eye and knucklefuls of self-promoting jewellery. He came and stood too close.
‘It just requires a little theatre work,’ I murmured, with an unobtrusive sidestep.
‘I like a girl who does Priapus jokes!’ Trebonius trowelled on lewd insinuation.
‘As she said, acting for the punters,’ said Faustus, moving in to support me. ‘Flavia Albia is perfectly modest by nature.’ Somehow he sounded as if he meant that.
Laia snorted.
I shot Faustus a grateful look. ‘We have some superb items still to come. I hope you will all stay and enjoy more of the auction – maybe you would like to buy something!’ I spun on one heel, my sensible shoe staying on firmly, as I moved off to continue my circuit.
I strolled around representing my father: shaking hands, smiling, enquiring about business, asking after families. ‘We were all very sorry to hear about your wife, such a lovely woman and far too young to go … Your youngest must be walking now … How is your brother getting on with his new business?’ Occasionally with newcomers I introduced myself, ‘Hello, I am Didius Falco’s daughter. I hope you are enjoying the sale. Do talk to any of our staff if we can help at all …’
I was ‘going about’ like the candidates. The only difference was, I paid for no favours and made no fake promises.
I returned to the dolphin-ended bench. The catalogue boy had been there but he moved off when Manlius Faustus approached, clearly about to speak to me.
‘So this is a big-earrings day!’ Manlius Faustus could be a man of surprises; he seemed to like my jewellery.
He sat down with me but the bench had reached its turn for bids. As we rose from it, Faustus must have seen my rueful glance and how I stroked the worn head of one of the dolphins. ‘You like it?’
‘Nowhere to keep it.’
‘You may have, one day. Put it in the courtyard of your building until then.’
Gornia called a starting bid; Faustus raised his hand. It was a firm gesture; no auctioneer would miss it or wonder if he was just waving to a friend. Gornia saw that Faustus was with me and did not seek more offers. Nobody was keen; even Gornia had said the piece had been ‘well used’, which can be auction shorthand for falling to bits. Faustus secured it.
‘Lucky I can afford the money!’ I mumbled.
‘Not you. Albiola, this is a welcome-home present. You just have to promise to let me come and sit on it.’
‘You should not give me presents,’ I half complained, but I really liked that bench.
‘Yes, I should.’ With no
The Callistus agent gazed around the audience. Most were intent on Gornia selling Father’s carpets. ‘So who is it, Flavia Albia?’
‘My guess is he or they have already left.’
The negotiator went off, too, without another word.
I felt Niger had no connection with the killing. Mind you, being plausible was his job.
My next task was to move casually about the audience, making a closer inspection of everyone who had bid on the chest unsuccessfully. I took one of the porters to introduce me to them. I still thought the killer would have been crazy to attempt to purchase the box, but you never know. Killers can be stupid.
I found that those who had shown interest were all regular dealers and bidding for themselves, apart from one shipper we had not dealt with before, but he had only arrived in Rome two days ago, giving him an alibi.
Out of politeness I went and said hello to Faustus and company. They were still fingering goods and making themselves agreeable to all and sundry.
None bothered with warm greetings for me. Laia Gratiana applied an expression of austere distaste. ‘Do you often do that, Flavia Albia?’
‘Take an auction? Not often – but, as you saw, I know how.’
‘Quite a skill!’ blared Trebonius Fulvo, not bothering to introduce himself – a man who assumed everyone knew him. He was the one with the odd eye and knucklefuls of self-promoting jewellery. He came and stood too close.
‘It just requires a little theatre work,’ I murmured, with an unobtrusive sidestep.
‘I like a girl who does Priapus jokes!’ Trebonius trowelled on lewd insinuation.
‘As she said, acting for the punters,’ said Faustus, moving in to support me. ‘Flavia Albia is perfectly modest by nature.’ Somehow he sounded as if he meant that.
Laia snorted.
I shot Faustus a grateful look. ‘We have some superb items still to come. I hope you will all stay and enjoy more of the auction – maybe you would like to buy something!’ I spun on one heel, my sensible shoe staying on firmly, as I moved off to continue my circuit.
I strolled around representing my father: shaking hands, smiling, enquiring about business, asking after families. ‘We were all very sorry to hear about your wife, such a lovely woman and far too young to go … Your youngest must be walking now … How is your brother getting on with his new business?’ Occasionally with newcomers I introduced myself, ‘Hello, I am Didius Falco’s daughter. I hope you are enjoying the sale. Do talk to any of our staff if we can help at all …’
I was ‘going about’ like the candidates. The only difference was, I paid for no favours and made no fake promises.
I returned to the dolphin-ended bench. The catalogue boy had been there but he moved off when Manlius Faustus approached, clearly about to speak to me.
‘So this is a big-earrings day!’ Manlius Faustus could be a man of surprises; he seemed to like my jewellery.
He sat down with me but the bench had reached its turn for bids. As we rose from it, Faustus must have seen my rueful glance and how I stroked the worn head of one of the dolphins. ‘You like it?’
‘Nowhere to keep it.’
‘You may have, one day. Put it in the courtyard of your building until then.’
Gornia called a starting bid; Faustus raised his hand. It was a firm gesture; no auctioneer would miss it or wonder if he was just waving to a friend. Gornia saw that Faustus was with me and did not seek more offers. Nobody was keen; even Gornia had said the piece had been ‘well used’, which can be auction shorthand for falling to bits. Faustus secured it.
‘Lucky I can afford the money!’ I mumbled.
‘Not you. Albiola, this is a welcome-home present. You just have to promise to let me come and sit on it.’
‘You should not give me presents,’ I half complained, but I really liked that bench.
‘Yes, I should.’ With no
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