The Bull Slayer - By Bruce Macbain Page 0,42

searched his face. Would the lynx pounce? Finally, she gave a small shrug. “What difference can that possibly make now?”

“Because, lady, his death was no accident.”

She was a woman who knew how to control herself. Still, the eyes narrowed just perceptibly. A muscle twitched in her cheek.

“Murdered? And you don’t know by whom? And you think I do?”

“We’re hoping you might be able to help us.” Suetonius leaned forward in his chair and gave her his most confiding look; this was the moment where he would win her cooperation or fail. “Is it likely that Fabia knew about your affair with her husband?”

“I have not admitted to any affair.”

“Could she have known?” he repeated.

“That stupid cow!” Her voice rose a pitch. “If she did she’s a better actress than I give her credit for!”

Ah, the mask has dropped! And there’s real feeling there. Use it. He leaned back, giving her space. “How did you two meet?” A sympathetic friend.

She allowed herself a smile. “He was a customer. He would come in the daytime, never at night, so his wife wouldn’t suspect. He would go through three or four girls in an afternoon. Most of the girls sleep during the day. I had to keep a few on call just for him. At first it was the girls, then it was me.”

“You won his heart?”

“I’m not such an old woman yet.” She lowered her eyes.

“Indeed not.” She wasn’t above fishing for a compliment.

“He hated his wife and talked about divorcing her and making me his concubine. He said he could obtain Roman citizenship for me and my son, said he had friends who were close to the emperor. And then he promised to marry me.”

Exactly as we’d thought! Suetonius reflected with deep satisfaction. Now try a different tack, circle around. “Tell me something about yourself, Sophronia. How do you come by—all this? His gesture took in the room and what lay beyond.

She went to the sideboard now and poured herself a goblet of wine, then poured more for him. “My father was a successful merchant. My late husband, not so successful. He went down with his ship in a storm five years ago, leaving me with a load of debts and a young son, who is now twelve years old and wants to be a Roman legionary when he grows up! Can you believe it?”

“And you found it necessary to go into this particular line of business?”

“Whoring? It’s a good deal less risky than shipping. Respectability doesn’t interest me, profit does. I discovered I had a talent for business. I’ve taken something sordid and made it elegant. It isn’t about sex, you know, it’s about theater. Sex is only the last act. If you don’t approve you can leave.”

Angry again, I’ve touched a sore spot. “On the contrary, lady, I’m filled with admiration. Anyone who commands a fortune like yours—”

“If only I did command it.” She set her goblet down hard, splashing some of the wine. “I have a brother, a half brother actually, Argyrus. My father’s first wife was a Greek woman. After her death, he married again, this time a Persian—you may know there is a sizeable Persian enclave here—she was my mother.”

Half barbarian, Suetonius thought, I could almost have guessed. “And so Argyrus is older than you are and pure Greek and—”

“And my oldest living male relative, yes. Your Roman women enjoy an enviable freedom. It’s not the same with us. He controls my fortune and does nothing but waste it, sucks my blood like a leech.”

“But if you had married Balbus, Argyrus would have lost control over your money.”

She didn’t say anything. She didn’t need to.

“And where might I find this brother of yours?”

“Here, as often as not, helping himself to the merchandize free of charge.”

“Would you object if I interviewed him?”

“Why should I?” she murmured.

“Thank you, Sophronia, you’ve been very helpful. The governor and I appreciate it.”

Perhaps it was the wine; the frown lines were softening, there was almost a wistfulness in her gaze. “I hope you catch whoever did it,” she said. “Balbus was not—not an easy man to like. What can I say, he was a Roman. But he meant something to me.”

“I’m sure he did.”

She squared her shoulders. “So. Have I answered all your questions? Then let me ask you some.”

For the next few minutes he opened himself to her—not everything, naturally, but more than he had planned; perhaps more than was wise. He had no children, he told her. His wife was

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