Behind me, Fusculus let out a hollow laugh.

`Our first interview was bland,' I continued. `I lost the chance to put further questions to him later.' If Avienus was a murder victim, that lost chance might be significant. Someone had shut him up. `He and I talked mostly about his work. He had a "block", he told me.' I looked straight at Turius, the other fellow who had somehow extended his deadlines. `Avienus had missed his delivery date; do you happen to know how late he was?'

Turius sniffled, unabashed, and shook his head.

I looked along to the playwright Urbanus, who replied briefly, `Years!'

Scrutator joined in more rudely: `Bloody years, yes!'

`I gathered these "blocks" were regular,' I commented. `Chrysippus seems to have been generous about them. Was the same lenience extended to the rest of you, Pacuvius?'

`Never,' scoffed the big, rangy satirist. `He expected us to hand in the goods.'

Most of the group was sitting passive but wary. Only Urbanus seemed relaxed: `Were there some curious features of Avienus' supposed suicide, Falco?'

I glanced at Petronius Longus. `Curious features? Noted!' he replied, as if the suggestion that these curiosities might matter was new to him.

I avoided discussing the manner of the historian's death: `I won't go into details. I don't want to prejudice a future court case,' I said ominously. `But why might Avienus commit suicide? We thought he had money worries. In truth, he had recently paid off his debt. So where did the cash come from? Not payment for finally handing in his manuscript?' I looked at Euschemon, who shook his head.

Petronius stood up and came to the centre of the room with me: `Falco, what was the great work Avienus had been labouring at for so long?'

I pretended to consult my note-tablet. `I quote: "fiduciary transactions since the Augustan period". Sounds rather dry. Avienus admitted his was a small field.'

`Sorry I asked!' Petro's voice rasped, as he made a show of returning to his seat.

`Was Avienus anywhere near finishing?' I asked the authors. `Some of you used to meet him regularly at that popina down the street. Did he ever discuss his progress?'

They looked at each other vaguely, then Scrutator nudged Turius and hinted in a sly tone, `You were his real crony!' Yes, the satirist really did like landing other people in it.

`We talked about his work once,' Turius confirmed, looking annoyed to be singled out. `He was drunk at the time.'

'Were you there as well?' I jokily asked Constrictus – the poet who liked imbibing too much.

The older man shook his head. `I have no recollection of it! Avienus was very secretive about his research. If he had been sober, Turius would never have extracted anything.'

`Some authors hate revealing details of their work until they have finished,' I put to him.

`Yes,' groused Constrictus. `And some work never sees the light of day. I was never convinced Avienus had written anything at all.' Constrictus at least did turn in manuscripts; Passus had found his latest poems marked by Chrysippus, 'Usual fluff. Small edition; reduce payment

I continued grilling Turius. `You and Avienus must have had subject-matter in common. You want to write about the ideal political state, the future. He catalogued the past. Both of you must have ranged across the other's field. Where society might go next and

where it has already been are manifestly linked. So what did Avienus have to say to you?

That put him on the spot. He writhed awkwardly; it did no good to his smart new leather belt, as he tortured it out of shape. `Avienus was interested in economic issues. My approach in my ideal republic is through morality.'

I laughed briefly. `Finance and morality are not so closely linked – wouldn't you agree, Lucrio?'

Lucrio had been off in a dream, while we prodded at intellectual ideas. But he managed to produce a sickly grin. Some professions condemn their office holders to endless nasty jokes so he must have been used to this. I won't suggest the snide jokes about bankers have any truth in them.

Turius thought he had escaped. I whisked back again: `What was Avienus' area of research, Turius? "Fiduciary transactions" – mean anything?'

He shrugged, feigning disinterest.

I glanced back at Petro. He interpreted swiftly: `Fiduciary – the placing of trust: transactions – sounds like money, to me.'

`Bank deposits!' I whipped around to face Lucrio. `Did Avienus investigate the Aurelian Bank?'

Lucrio sat up slightly. `Not that I know.'

`You were the agent. The obvious person to approach.'

`Sorry; I can't help you, legate,' he avowed; discretion was part of his business mystique, so I expected nothing else.

`The bank won't help us,' I sighed, turning again to Turius. `So let me try out my theory on you – let's suppose Avienus started to write an economic history of some sort. He put together material to illustrate aspects of the Roman social structure, perhaps how private finances have affected class movements, or some such idea. Sounds fanciful to us, the general public, but you know what historians are… Perhaps he looked at the ways private individuals can advance socially by improving their financial status. Or perhaps he was interested in commercial investment.. Anyway, at some point, probably a few years ago, he must have grazed a little too close to the Golden Horse.'

There were indrawn breaths. I spun back towards the other row of seats and tackled Lucrio again: `The word in the Forum is that your set-up has a good reputation nowadays – or did have, before you liquidated yesterday – but that was not always the case. When Chrysippus first arrived in Rome, he was a shady loan shark.'

Lucrio prepared to argue, then had second thoughts. `Before my time, Falco.'

`Lysa?' I asked, springing it on her. She was glowering. `Anything to contribute?'

Lucrio was dying to look at her, but Vibia sat in his way. Lysa, his dead patron's ex-wife, his own future bride, merely turned on me a formal expression of disdain.

`Saying nothing, Lysa? Another strong believer in commercial confidentiality! You won't send me a libel suit if I say, there must have been dirt, and Avienus found it. It looks as if he played it right, blackmailing Chrysippus – not too greedy – just asking for a permanent retainer. That explains why there was no pressure to produce his history. It was in the bank's interest if he never produced his expose! He survived very comfortably that way. It could have lasted for years -'

`This is pure speculation, Falco,' Lysa challenged.

`Sounds convincing though!' I grinned back at her. `When Avienus did pile on demands, he was given an enormous "loan". For some reason, Chrysippus lost patience eventually, and called it in.' I paused. `But perhaps it was not Chrysippus who did that…' I turned again to Lucrio. `You asked for the repayment, in fact?'

Lucrio had already told me so. I forced him to repeat that in the normal course of his duties as the bank's agent he had demanded repayment. He had not contacted Chrysippus first.

`So Chrysippus had no chance to stop you. You were unaware of the blackmail – Chrysippus had kept it a secret even from you, his most trusted freedman. Well, perhaps the bank's sordid history had happened while you were still a slave. Is that right, Lucrio?'

`I don't know what you are talking about, Falco.'

`My dear Lucrio, it is to your credit if Chrysippus thought you too honest to be made aware of his bank's vile past.' Lucrio looked ambivalent about being called honest; I hid a smile.

`This is quite unacceptable!' exclaimed Lysa. She made an appeal for Petronius Longus to intervene, but he only shrugged.

As a courtesy to him, my employer, I said, `I will explore all this later.' Petronius nodded and signalled me to continue.