"Can I see the file? The father was given a banning order. He presumably had a lot of contact with your office, if he managed to annoy the governor that much.'

"Oh, I can't show the file to you, Falco. Security.' This probably meant the governor had given vent to his feelings too rudely – or more likely Aquillius knew the scroll had been put in their dead archive and re-used for packaging souvenirs the governor was sending home. "Our view is that the girl either went up the Hill of Cronus to meet with a lover, orHe lowered his voice in hollow sympathy. "Or she did away with herself

I gave him the silent treatment again. Aquillius took it with his normal good nature. "No, we don't really go for the lover story. By all accounts she was a quiet little scrap. No looks and no personality.'

I told him her father had mentioned that before her trip there had been "trouble with a young man'. Aquillius blanked it and stuck with his own version. "We think she got carried away by the mystique of Greece, and had a breakdown of some sort.'

"So officially it was suicide?'

"Yes, but the governor is a soft old cove. He just could not bring

himself to say that to the father. When Caesius kept on agitating, the best solution was to expel him.'

I was tired. I had had a long sea journey; now I faced a week of irritation with bureaucracy. I gave up.

I asked for and was given the name of a reputable lodging house.

"Will Claudius Laeta foot your bill, Falco?'

"As the crime occurred out here, he'll suggest you fund me against your petty cash.'

Aquillius Macer accepted it. He was the province's finance officer but had no clue how to fiddle costings. He could have passed this expense straight back to Rome and saved the money for entertaining influential locals. He was a hopeless overseas ambassador – and I was keen to preserve my meagre funds from Laeta, so I let him subsidise me.

Aquillius then supplied the address where the Seven Sights group were staying, in some fleapit called the Helios. "Well, all except the escort.

A new surprise. "Phineus! What's happened to him?'

"Oh nothing. But we all know Phineus, he's no problem. He has other groups to look after. He's been set loose on parole. That almost sounded as if Phineus was given a governmental travel pass and free hay for his donkey.

"When Caesia died,' I butted in, sounding snappish, "this Phineus fled straight back to Rome. It's suspicious to me! Any sign of similar in the Valeria case?'

"No, no. Phineus is all right,' Aquillius reassured me. "Really knows his stuff. Understands this country better than anyone. If I was booking a culture tour, Falco, I'd travel with Seven Sights. Phineus gives people the best time.'

"So what if I want to interview this man?'

"Oh he'll be back.'

When I asked Aquillius if I could see his interview tablets from the Olympia investigation, he had to confess he had not taken any notes.

"Go and get your head down, Falco. Let me know if there is anything that we can do. Enjoy your stay. And don't forget – the governor's office only wants to help!'

To work. After waking late and settling in next day, Helena and I took ourselves for a mid-morning brunch at the Helios, the rooming house where the Seven Sights group were penned up. Glaucus had gone to find himself a gymnasium. Our youngsters were out seeing the town. We knew that meant looking for the temple with the official prostitutes, but we were confident they would just stand around and stare. Helena had said if they got into any sort of trouble in the administrative capital of a province where I was working, we would abandon them.

"She's joking!' Gaius protested.

"Dear nephew, do not be too sure. If you commit a crime here, you take your chance with local justice.'

Gaius had no idea that one of his uncles had been eaten by an arena lion when he offended local sensibilities whilst accompanying me on a mission overseas. (To be truthful, we did not entirely abandon Famia. We cremated the few pieces of him that survived the gnawing, and took the ashes back to Rome.)

The Helios had a porch with a colourful terracotta architrave, but that was its only gesture to graciousness. We could see that the rooms were tiny and dark; the corridors managed to smell damp, even on a baking hot day. We wondered what favour Aquillius Macer had owed the proprietor, to make him place the suspects here. This time, he really was keeping down the demand on his contingency fund. They were crowded in a sour billet.

Still, there was a small courtyard, shaded by pergolas from which dangled still-unripe bunches of grapes. Beneath, stood a selection of wobbly tables and benches. Helena and I ensconced ourselves side by side against a wall, so we could both survey the area. Food was available; they sent out to a nearby fish restaurant.

While we waited, Helena drew up a list of reasons why people

went on leisure tours. "Escape; culture – art and architecture; other kinds of education – curiosity about the world beyond Rome…'

"Sex.' I was thinking of my conversation with Aquillius yesterday.

"Religion!' she countered, unaware that that fitted my category. Helena, who had sharp sensitivities, then quizzed me with those great brown eyes. I told her what the quaestor had said about the Aphrodite of Cnidus. She giggled. As always, this reduced me to helplessness. "Showing off!' Helena added, for some reason.

"Sport.'

"Collecting things.'

"Adventure.'

"Writing a book.

"Oh lady, now you are being silly!'

Helena chuckled again, then steadied and advised that when I interviewed the group members, I should find out which of them were writing travel diaries.

I concentrated on trying to wedge bits of broken pot under a leg of our table to stabilise it.

The trapped travellers came to lunch early. We were barely into our stale rolls and pan-fried octopus when in strolled a man with a short body on extremely long legs; he was thin and balding and everything about him said he was a self-opinionated fool. Helena had unrolled our letter from Aulus on the table; assessing the man, she placed the clean, pointed end of her spoon against the name of Tiberius Sertorius Niger, the father of the family in the family of four. Sure enough, his wife joined him. a pale woman reading Herodotus (she read bits aloud, mainly to herself; no one else took any notice. Helena, who had whizzed through the histories on our way out from Italy, recognised the passage). Soon after, their two children came, gobbled a few mouthfuls, spilt a jug of water, then kept wandering off from the table and looking for mischief. The boy was about fourteen, the girl slightly younger. They were sullen and bored.

Next came a middle-aged woman, solo, rather stout, with wispy hair, struggling to manage her over-large lop-sided garments. She nodded to the mother, who must have previously discouraged the widow (as we had guessed this was) from sitting among the Sertorius family. Instead, Helvia plonked herself down at the table next to ours. Helena might have made conversation, but we needed to remain detached observers for a little longer; she became absorbed in the letter from Aulus, while I just scowled anti-socially. Although Aulus had

called Helvia "fairly stupid', she must have deduced that I was a dangerous dog who might froth at the mouth if spoken to. She avoided looking at us.

Suddenly she began a prolonged consultation of the chalked slate which served as a menu board (deciphered, the spidery Greek letters simply said there was octopus in sauce, or octopus without). Helvia's fixed preoccupation was a cover, so she could avoid a shabby, slouching man, wearing a large conical hat, who wandered in and looked around for someone to disturb. this had to be Volcasius.