'Can't help you. I was tired out after travelling. Helena and Ma went to clean up my apartment. They left me here in bed. I was asleep, so I wasn't up to anything, but don't ask me to prove it-the classic useless excuse: Petro, I can't stand this! What in the name of the Capitoline Triad is fretting your tiny worried mind?' Petronius Longus stared at the table. I could tell we had reached the crunch. He looked as lonely as a gold piece in a miser's pocket. 'Try this. The corpse I had to look at this morning,' he informed me in an unsteady voice, 'was a centurion called Titus Censorinus Macer. He was done in at Flora's Caupona-and every time I ask if he had upset anybody recently, people rush at me with lurid tales of some blazing row he had with you.'

I groaned. Not too loudly; a murder suspect needs to beware of bad acting.

'Lucius Petronius, I can hardly believe I'm hearing this:' I believed it all too easily. From the moment my brother's business life had become an issue yet again, I had expected deep trouble on the next throw of the dice. This was the worst yet, however.

'Believe it!' Petronius advised.

'Oh gods, Petro, I'm standing on a real midden heap of shit. You know Marponius hates informers. Now my name's written on a tablet in the denouncing jar! Just the chance he needs to interfere with my free movement and slander me at Pincian Hill dinner parties. Still!' I cheered up. 'Since you're the investigating officer, Marponius doesn't need to know.'

'Wrong, Falco!'

'Don't worry about it. I'll help you track the killer down.'

Petro sighed. 'Marponius knows already. He's having one of his "social responsibility" fits. Every five minutes he wants me to show him round a brothel or introduce him to a professional gambling cheat. I was with him discussing another case when they turned up to fetch me to Flora's. Coming along to have a squint at a genuine body was the highlight of the judge's year. Well,' he added reminiscently, 'it was until he actually set eyes on the mess.'

'I get it.' I had gathered this was a murder that would deeply affect a judge's shockable mind. 'Having seen the gore, and thrown up his breakfast on the doorstep of the action, His Honour feels personally involved in the whole damned enquiry? You'd better tell me everything. I suppose all the hangers-on at Flora's who normally wouldn't pass the time of day with their own lice, couldn't wait to talk with the great man?'

'Exactly. Your name took about three seconds to surface. We hadn't even forced a passage through the throng. I was still trying to get upstairs to inspect the remains.'

'This looks bad.'

'Smart, Falco!'

I knew Marponius was the impetuous type who would expect the first suspect he heard about to be condemned. Much neater than complicating life with other possibilities. He was probably already drawing up a jury list for my trial in the Basilica. Assuming he reckoned I rated the Basilica.

'So what's the situation, Petro? I'm a wanted man; Marponius thinks you're looking for me. Have you found me now, or do I get leeway to search for evidence myself?'

Petronius Longus gave me the straight look he normally kept for women; it meant he had no intention of being straight. 'Marponius wants this tied up speedily. I told him I couldn't find you at your apartment. I may have forgotten to mention I might be seeing you later on here.'

'How much to go on forgetting?'

'I'm sure you'll manage to persuade me!' There was nothing corrupt in Petronius. On the other hand, he would reckon any favours he notched up voluntarily ought to be accounted for in kind at a later date.

'Thanks.'

'You'll have to move fast. I can't keep it up for ever.'

'How long?'

'I can probably bluff for a day.' I thought I would be able to stretch him to three. We were pretty close friends. Besides, Petro hated Marponius too much to give an inch to his requests for speed. Watch captains are elected by the populace; Petronius took his authority from the plebeian electorate.

That said, he liked the work, he enjoyed his local status, and with a smart wife and three young daughters to keep he needed his public salary. Upsetting a judge would be a bad idea. Not even I could expect that of him; if it came to dilemma-time, I wouldn't even ask.

Petronius excused himself; discord always went to his bladder. While he was otherwise occupied I spotted his note tablet lying alongside his cloak on the table. Like everything he owned, it was solid and heavy, four or five reusable waxed boards bound with a criss-cross of leather thongs between two square wooden protectors. I had seen him use it on numerous occasions, unobtrusively scratching details about some luckless suspect, often at the same time as he talked to them. The tablet had a substantial, well-aged look that made it appear reliable. Produced in court, to be read from in his sombre tones, Petro's memory-jogger had secured many a conviction. I had never expected to be listed there myself among the reprobates. It gave me a feeling I didn't like.

I flipped the top cover and found he had been assembling a timetable of my own movements that day. Suppressing my indignation, I inserted the missing events for him in a neat, bitter script.

When he came back he immediately recaptured his notes. He noticed my additions but said nothing.

I moved the amphora aside, then set Petro's winecup well out of his reach.

'Sobriety-time. You'd better go over all you've found out so far.'

I saw an uneasy look on his face. Maybe telling the chief suspect exactly what evidence had been amassed against him struck a wrong note, even when I was the suspect. But habit won. He opened up. 'All we have is an extremely bloody corpse.'

'When was he done?'

'Marponius thinks last night, but Marponius just likes the idea of unspeakable crime at midnight. It could have been early this morning.'

'It would be!' The one period for which I had no alibi. 'I'll have to dodge Marponius while I try to prove what really happened. Let's cover every possibility. Any chance of suicide?'

Petro guffawed. 'Not with those wounds. Self-infliction can be ruled out. Besides,' he informed me reasonably, 'the victim had paid in advance for his room rent.'

'Yes, that would be stupid, if he knew he was depressed! And he was badly hacked, you say? Was some villain trying to prove a point?'

'Could well be. Are you going to suggest what? Or tell me who is trying to make their mark?'

I had no idea.

Together we considered alternatives. Censorinus could have picked up a bedmate-of either sex-who had turned spiteful at some point. 'If so, no one at Flora's saw the paramour,' Petro said. 'And you know Flora's!' A curious hovel, as I was remarking earlier.

'Had he been robbed?'

'Probably not. All his kit appeared to be present and correct.' I made a private note to try and get a look at it some time.

'What about a disappointed debtor?' Even as I said it, I could hear the false note. Censorinus was collecting debts. Petro stared at me. The details of my quarrel must have whistled all along the Tiber's southern bank. Petronius certainly knew at least as much as I did about why the soldier had been in Rome, and what he had wanted here.

'I met him a couple of times when I came over to see your mother while you were away. I had already formed the impression he might be leaning on your family for more than a free bed. Would I be right in assuming your wonderful brother was at the back of it?' I did not reply. 'With the greatest respect, Marcus Didius,' Petro began, employing only slight reproach, 'there do seem to be one or two aspects which you could help clarify!' He said it as if he were loath to embarrass me. That meant nothing. He was tough; which meant tough on his friends too. If my foolish behaviour made an arm lock or a knee in the groin necessary, Petro would not flinch from it. And he was bigger than me.