Ode To A Banker (23 page)

'Yes.'

'Maybe he even thought that a slight tendency to sharp practice was just what he wanted in a manager?'

'Exactly,' said Lucrio, showing us a flash of teeth.

Petronius Longus glanced through his set of note-tablets calmly. 'Well, that seems to be everything covered.' Lucrio let himself relax. Not that it was easy to tell, because he had been strikingly at ease all along. He made a move towards the door. 'Any queries on your side, Falco?' Petro asked.

'Please.' Petro sat back and I started the whole round from my viewpoint. Swapping control once Lucrio thought it was all over might unnerve him. Probably not, but it was worth a try.

'A couple of logistical questions, Lucrio: where were you at noon two days ago when Chrysippus was killed?'

'Forum. Lunching with a group of clients. I can give you their names.'

Not much point; either it was true, or by now the alibis would have been primed to lie for him. 'Were your relations with Chrysippus good? Any problems at the bank?'

'No fear. It was making money. That kept the boss happy.'

'Know any unhappy clients who bore a grudge?'

'No.'

'Apart from Pisarchus,' I corrected. 'Were there any other disappointed creditors?'

'Not in the same league.'

'Another debtor I'm looking at is one of the scriptorium authors -' Lucrio freely supplied the name: 'Avienus.'

'That's right; the historian. He has a large loan out with the bank, I understand. Does it have an end date?'

'It did.'

'Already past?'

'Afraid so.'

'He has difficulties finding the money?'

'So he says.'

'Chrysippus was taking a hard line?'

'No, I dealt with it, in the normal way.'

'Avienus was being tricky?'

Lucrio shrugged. 'He was always appealing to Chrysippus as one of his writers, but I don't buy that. Whining and performing, the way people do. The first time, it wrings your heart.' Lucrio, affected by debtors' pleas? 'After that you take no notice; genuine hardship cases don't ever complain.'

'Did Avienus have any remedy?'

'Write his stuff, and deposit the scrolls so he got paid his fee and clear the debt,' sneered the freedman. He did not sound like a reading man. Then he added, 'Or he could do the usual.'

'What's that?'

'Ask another lender to buy up his loan.'

I blinked. 'How does that work?'

'The date was up. We called in the debt,' explained Lucrio, patiently. 'Someone else could advance Avienus the money to pay us.'

I followed him: 'A loan to pay off a loan? The new one covering the sum of your loan, plus the interest he owed to you, plus the new lender's profit? Jupiter!' Compound interest was illegal in Rome - but this seemed a neat way to avoid that. Bankers would support each other in this unpleasant trade. 'Spiralling down into poverty - and even slavery, perhaps?'

Lucrio showed no remorse. 'Buys him time, Falco. If Avienus ever clambers off his backside and earns something, he could cover the debt.'

Against my inclinations, I could see Lucrio's point of view. Some people with crippling debts do bestir themselves and work until they drop. 'What security has Avienus given for the original loan?'

'I would have to look that up.'

'I want you to do so, and to let me know, please. Don't tell Avienus that I'm asking. He may be your commercial client but he could also be your patron's killer.'

'I'll remember.'

'What will happen about the debt now Chrysippus is dead?'

'Oh, nothing changes. Avienus must repay the bank.'

'You're hot in pursuit, are you?'

Lucrio grinned. It was more of a grimace - not at all humorous. Time for another shift. Petronius leaned towards me. 'Was there a query you mentioned about the will, Falco?'

'That's right.' Lucrio, I noticed, suddenly had the fixed air of a man who had been waiting for this. 'Lucrio, has the will been opened yet?' He nodded.

'Who are the main beneficiaries? Is it right that Vibia Merulla, as the current wife, was only left the scriptorium?'

'So she was.'

'And is it really worth little?'

'Better than a fish-stall at Ostia - but not much better.'

'That seems hard.'

'Her family got her dowry back.'

'Oh lovely! Who was left the bank?'

'Lysa' - he coloured very faintly - 'and myself.'

'Oh that's touching! The ex-wife who helped found the business and a loyal ex- slave.'

'A custom of our country,' Lucrio said, like a tired man who knew he would have to explain this many times to many different acquaintances. 'Greek banks have throughout history been passed jointly to Greek bankers' wives and their regular agents.'

'What,' I sneered, 'do Greek bankers' children think of that?'

'They know it has been done throughout Greek history,' Lucrio said.

'And little Greek boys are taught a love of history!' We all laughed. 'Vibia Merulla appears to have lost out heavily,' I went on. 'A Greek ex-wife takes precedence over a new Roman one? Is that traditional too?'

'Sounds good to me,' said Lucrio shamelessly. 'Lysa built the business up.'

'But in this case, the Greek banker has an only son, who has become thoroughly Romanised. Diomedes must know that in Rome, we do things differently. Here you, of course, would still have a claim to be rewarded for loyal service. Lysa would be an irrelevance, after Chrysippus remarried; Vibia would acquire a claim. And Diomedes would expect his father to acknowledge his importance in the family. Where does this old Greek custom leave Diomedes as a new Roman, Lucrio?'

'Whimpering!' the freedman acknowledged callously. 'Oh, it's not a disaster! He has been given a few sesterces to see him through life. It's more than most sons can expect, especially bone-idle spendthrifts with airy ideas who do nothing but cause trouble.'

'You don't sound like a follower of dear Diomedes?'

'You have met him, I believe,' Lucrio murmured - as if that answered everything.

'Well, his mother will be a grand heiress. One day, perhaps, he will be Lysa's heir?'

'Possibly.' There was a slight pause. I sensed reluctance, but the freedman despised Diomedes so strongly that he was prepared to be indiscreet for once: 'Lysa's new husband may have something to say about that,' said Lucrio.

XXXII

MY NEXT visit to Lysa, the ex-wife and lucky heiress, caught her off guard. Not expecting me, she made the mistake of being in.

Now I had gained admittance, I saw that as places go it was a desirable residence. We were sitting in a salon that was cool in the July heatwave, though lit expertly from high windows above. A series of patterned rugs was spread on the marble floor. Lush curtains tapestried the walls. Our seating was bronze-framed, with substantial padding. In a corner, on a shelf, stood a lavish wine-warmer, the kind that burns charcoal in a large chamber with a fuel store underneath, out of use at present, due to the weather no doubt. Perfect, unmottled fruit gleamed in translucent glass bowls.

'Not plying your loom like a dutiful housewife?'

It was a joke. Lysa had been reading over columns of figures while a slave who was clearly accustomed to the task took dictated notes. As I entered, I had heard the ex-wife composing messages about the bank's clients in a confident voice. She was better-spoken than Vibia, even though I guessed Lysa had humbler origins.

'Is your son around?'

'No.'

She was probably lying but I had no excuse to search the place. 'How is he bearing up to his father's loss?'

'Grief-stricken, poor boy,' sighed his mother, still lying I reckoned. But he tries to be brave.'

'Belonging to wealthy parents must help him cope.'

'You are a horrible cynic, Falco. Diomedes is a very sensitive soul.'

'What are his talents? What are you planning to do with him?'

'I am trying to help him decide what he wants to be in life. Once he has readjusted to his father's death, I believe he will review his ambitions. Marry soon. Settle down to building up a portfolio of property. Make something of himself in the community.'

'Public life?' I raised my eyebrows.

'Chrysippus dearly wanted him to advance in society.'

'Many a banker's descendant has done that,' I conceded. 'Our noble Emperor, for one.' Finance was a smart entrance-ticket. The descendants hit Rome well provided with money, if nothing else; all they had to acquire was social respectability. The Flavian family did that by astute marriages, as I recalled. Then civil and military positions, right up to the highest, jumped into their welcoming arms.

'Who is Diomedes marrying?'

'We have yet to decide on a suitable young woman. But I am in discussion currently with a good family '

'One nuptial step at a time, eh?' I scoffed offensively.

Lysa knew I had reached the real subject of the interview. Already she was looking uncomfortable - though that was probably because I had not yet told her what my errand was.

'I've just been given some startling information, Lysa.'

'Really?' While seeming indifferent, she abandoned the accounts and signalled to her scribe to leave the room. No maid had appeared to chaperone her. She was a tough woman, whom I distrusted; I would have welcomed the presence of a chaperone - to protect me.

'I hear you have inherited half the trapeza.' Lysa inclined her head. 'Lucky woman! Did you know about your place in the will, when we discussed it previously?'

'The bequest had always been intended.'

'But you modestly kept silent?'

'There could always have been,' she said a little archly, 'some last-minute change of plan.' It would be a brave testator who would change his will after Lysa believed she was his main legatee.

'
With the new wife angling to improve her own position?' I hinted. 'Had Chrysippus ever suggested that he might change the inheritance?'

'No.'

'And after the divorce, you continued to manage the affairs of the trapeza?'

'Women are not permitted to engage in banking,' she corrected me.

'Oh, I don't believe that ever inhibited you. Are you saying thatLucrio runs everything? Presumably, he does what you tell him?'

'No one person has ever made all the decisions. Chrysippus and I - and Lucrio too - were a joint board of management.'

'Oh, Chrysippus did come into it?'

She looked surprised. 'It was his business.'

'B
ut you were the force running it - as you still are. And now it's in the joint hands of you and Lucrio - but I am told you are about to remarry!'

'Yes, I shall probably do that,' Lysa responded, unmoved by my fierce approach. 'Who told you?'

'Lucrio.'

I wondered if she was annoyed with the freedman, but apparently not. 'Did he name the man I am marrying?'

'Unfortunately he forgot to mention that.' He had told me coyly that I should ask her to provide the details. 'So, who is this lucky bridegroom, Lysa? Someone you have known for a long while?'

'You could say so.'

'A lover?'

'Certainly not!' That made her furious. Informers are used to it. Whatever she claimed, I would look into whether she had had an existing affair with the new husband.

'Own up. Don't you realise this places you at the top of my suspects list?'

'Why should it?'

'You and your paramour had a prize incentive to kill Chrysippus - so you could acquire the bank.'

The woman laughed gently. 'No need, Falco. I was always going to inherit the bank anyway.'

'Your new boyfriend may have wanted more direct ownership - and he may have been impatient, too.'

'You do not know what you are talking about.'

'Tell me then.'

Lysa spoke frostily. 'It has been the custom for centuries when Greek banks are inherited, to leave them jointly to the owner's widow and his trusted agent.' That was what Lucrio had told me. He had held back delicately, however, on the next peculiar Athenian joke: 'To protect the business, it is also the custom that the two heirs will subsequently join forces.' Then Lysa said, as if it were nothing extraordinary, 'I shall be marrying Lucrio.'

I gulped. Then, though it appeared not to be a love match, I wished the future bride every happiness. The couple's shared wealth presumably rendered formal best wishes for their future superfluous.

XXXIII

THIS WAS the dangerous stage, where the case could die on us. The problem with this one was not the usual lack of facts, but almost too many to co-ordinate.

The work had not ended, by any means. But there were no material clues, despite numerous loose threads. I prepared an interim report for Petro, summing up the dead ends:

* The scriptorium manager, the scribes, and the household slaves are all ruled out either by proven absence, confirmed sightings off the scene, or lack of bloodstains at the initial interrogation.