Shadows in Bronze-Falco 02 by Lindsey Davis

Author:Lindsey Davis [Davis, Lindsey]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, General, Mystery & Detective, Mystery fiction, Historical, Historical fiction, Hard-Boiled, Rome, Falco; Marcus Didius (Fictitious character), Rome - History - Vespasian; 69-79, Private investigators - Rome, Helena Justina (Fictitious character)
ISBN: 9780312357764
Publisher: Macmillan
Published: 2007-10-15T07:00:00+00:00

She lifted her chin defiantly. 'I suppose you threw the spoons in the sea?'

`Certainly not! My father was an auctioneer; I know the price of spoons ...' We were friends. Nothing could change it. Friends, al ied by the love of intrigue; constantly arguing yet never quite as irritated with each other as we both professed. And the tension between us, both emotional and sexual, stil felt decidedly permanent to me. 'Just now, what were you thinking of?' I ventured to ask.

Helena moved away from me quietly, shaking her head. 'Something I'm not sure about. Don't ask me,' was al she said.

XLVI

By the time we reached the house, Helena was looking dreadful again. She normal y enjoyed such sturdy good health that this troubled me as much as it plainly embarrassed her. I insisted on staying beside her until she was

instal ed on a couch in a long colonnade, with a tray of hot borage tea.

While the smal flursy which our arrival caused was settling down I acted the visitor. Helena sent away the slaves. I sat with her, supping from a little bowl which I held between a thumb and two fingers like anyone respectable. (If it's not too strong I quite like borage tea.)

When my mouth was thoroughly scalded I put my bowl down then stretched, looking round. No sign of Marcel us, and few staff The usual gardeners were raking out a big bank of mimosa. Their heads were wel lowered over it. Somewhere indoors I could hear a woman scrubbing, accompanying herselfwith rasping song. I poured more tea through a pomted strainer for her ladyship, standing idly beside her afterwards as if I was merely watching the slow curl of the steam...

The great house seemed relaxed and quiet. Nosmal people going about their normal tasks. I touched Helena's shoulder quietly, then strol ed off on my own like a shy man going to answer a natural cal .

Seeing the racehorse trainer had aroused my interest. I walked round the outbuilding in the hope of finding him. The stables lay on the left as you faced out to sea. There was an old livery block, used for pack mules and carriages. And a large new section, built about five years ago, with signs of recent activity. With the discretion of half a lifetime I managed to mfiltrate myself indoors unseen.

There was no doubt, this was where Pertinax and Barnabas had once kept their bloodstock. The tack room contained one of the silver equine statuettes I had seen in the Pertinax house in Rome. Most of the stabling was empty now, presumably since his death. But two horses I was confident I recognized from that mornmg were sweating contentedly in adjacent stal s.

They had just been rubbed down by a burly ostler who was now swabbing out the walkway between the rows.

'Hel o!' I cried, as if I had permission to be there. The man leaned on his besom and gave me a shrewd look.

I strol ed down to the two hones and pretended to take an

interest.

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