`Thank you so much for coming.' He was tidy, fastidious, looked older than his forty-odd years. His voice had a scratch in it, as if it had been overused. Close to, he had one of those lop-sided faces that look as if two heads have been glued together down the middle by an inept sculptor; even his ears were different in size. 'Ah, you have brought your assistants – I am so sorry; I failed to anticipate that. You must have walked – I would have sent directions – did you find us fairly easily? Can I offer refreshments? Do come in and make yourselves comfortable -'

This was the mean-eyed grouch who had implied I came from the gutter when he wanted to make an effect in court. I let his empty etiquette wash over me. But I noted the implication that in today's enterprise, whatever that was, we were on the same side.

I shot the lads a warning glance. Justinus assessed a tapestry as if he had seen better. Aelianus sneered directly at Paccius; truly patrician, he loved an excuse to be boorish. Both had unsmiling faces. None of us wore togas, so Paccius, who had arrived formally dressed for some reason, felt obliged swiftly to shed his. We refused food and drink, so he had to wave away a clutch of slaves with silver trays who gathered in the room he took us to.

I was still wondering about the toga. He was at home. Nobody wears a toga at home. He must have come back from some formal event. What, and who with?

`I need your help, Falco.'

I let one corner of my mouth twitch into a surly smile. `An appeal for my skills always has charm, Paccius.'

`Shall I recite our fee scale?' Justinus pretended to joke.

`He wants us – so double the on-costs!' Aelianus croaked. We all laughed. What a merry business informing can be.

A man entered, not what I expected as a house guest. He was a stranger, but I recognised my type of operator. He wore a brown tunic, tight on the chest, no braid. A wide belt, fit for various purposes. His boots were solid, also functional. Over his arm he carried a thick dark cloak, its hood hanging down. It looked as if the fabric had been oiled, which you would do if you were constantly out in bad weather. He was ten years older than me, shorter than average, wide, muscular, huge calves. His hair was trimmed so short its colour was indeterminate. His eyes moved restlessly around the room, taking us all in.

`This is Bratta,' introduced Paccius. `He works for me, as a runner.' Bratta was an informer, then. My type of informer. Silius used one too, he had told me. I never saw his. `We have a problem, Falco.'

I listened. Bratta watched me listening. His expression was faintly derisive. That could just be his normal face. Mine was no better. I must be looking suspicious of Paccius. The Camilli were quiet. I could trust them nowadays. Bratta stared at them suspiciously; I hid a smile.

`Let's hear it, Paccius: what is your scenario?' If he was using Bratta, I could not see why he needed us.

`I am accusing Metellus Negrinus of killing his father. The motive is vengeance for his omission from his father's will. The method still has to be dragged out of him.' Paccius leaned back. `You do not appear surprised?'

`Well, I thought you would have gone for the sister next – the one who keeps aloof. An easier target.' He did not respond to the snipe. `Do you know why the will cuts Negrinus out?'

Paccius paused only slightly. `No.' He was lying. I wondered why. `My problem is this: to begin proceedings we must produce Birdy before the praetor. It is vital that he attend, to agree the facts.'

`Why is that a problem?'

`We can't find him.'

`What happens if he fails to appear?' asked Aelianus.

Paccius surveyed him indulgently. He could see I knew the reason, but he explained it patiently to my younger colleague: `The praetor then declares him to have gone into hiding.' With these legal vultures pursuing him, hiding up seemed a reasonable course for poor Birdy. `His estates could be sold to meet the claim, if that were appropriate. With a capital charge it does not apply.'

`A capital charge can lead to the lions. You want Birdy in the arena?' I asked.

`Don't feel sorry for him, Falco.'

`Why not? His father shamelessly used him as a medium for fixing contracts. His wife has left him when nine months pregnant. His sister was accused of killing their father – and he was cut out of the will.'

I was going to add something disparaging about his mother Calpurnia, but for all I knew, Paccius was her lover.

`So you want me to trace the man?'

Paccius nodded. `You will be working with Bratta.' Neither Bratta nor I bothered to show how much we hated that. `It's a real bummer, Falco. Simply getting an appointment with a praetor is a hard enough task. Negrinus has to co-operate.'

In getting himself charged? Why should he? His family had been targeted. It was a sordid game Paccius and Silius were playing; Negrinus had not agreed to join in. These vultures just marked him as their next victim.

`Tell me: why you, Paccius?'

`I beg your pardon?'

`Why you as the accuser?' I repeated patiently. `I thought the setup had Silius attacking the so-called killers. You were the faithful family adviser. You did it for the father, then you defended Juliana.'

`Obviously I am horrified that Rubiria Juliana was placed in difficulties due to the malfeasance of her brother!'

`Malfeasance, eh? I see.' I turned to Bratta. He was sitting quietly. Wondering what he thought of the case, I told him my opinion. `My first moves would be: check with the mother, the sister he was close to, the other sister, the ex-wife, and the supposedly close best friend – Licinius Lutea.'

Bratta showed his teeth. They were a sorry set. Too much bad food munched at cheap food stalls while he was watching people and places. The usual. He was one of us all right. For the first time he spoke, in a voice less rough than his appearance had promised: `Done it. None of them have seen him.'

`So they say!'

`So they say.'

I had been thinking. Now I stood up. `Well, that's about the limit of what I can offer.'

Paccius looked surprised. 'Falco! You mean, you won't take. the job?'

`No thanks.' I gestured at Bratta. `You have a perfectly competent trace-man here, who has done the groundwork. Bratta failed to find the fugitive. There's not much left for me; I would be floundering messily. I recommend you just sit tight until Birdy reappears when he gets bored. I don't have the time or the resources to potter about.'

The Camilli were ready to leave with me. Paccius looked astonished that I had turned down the fee. I thought he was about to argue, but he then shrugged. The informer Bratta gave me a nod. I decided there was grudging respect in it. Or maybe he thought me an idiot.

I stared at Paccius. `You want to be careful. It looks as if you and Silius Italicus have shared this out between you. He had first go, now it's your turn.'

`That would be collaborating,' Paccius murmured. `That sort of behaviour gets our trade a bad name, Falco.'

Too right it did.

We lads of Falco and Associates stood together in the street. Use of the Paccius litter had been a one-way sweetener. We were not offered transport home.

`So that's it?' asked Aelianus. `We are out of the case? The Metellus affair does not concern us?' He spoke warily, as if he knew there was more on my mind than I had revealed.

I gazed up at the wintry sky. A star appeared briefly through featherings of pale cloud. Then it vanished. No others replaced it and the cloud cover thickened as I looked. We would have a long, dark walk home. Still, at this time of year the street criminals liked to hibernate. Many would have stayed indoors beating up their women and children. Not that we could feel confident. Others would be on the prowl, using the darkness.