`Yes.' If she stayed so monosyllabic, this would be useless. Her husband was off out socialising somewhere; I hoped to finish before he came back to interfere.

`I imagine your mother was a little strict. What was your father like at home?'

Carina now decided to go along with it. `He was a good father. We all liked him.'

`You and your sister were both married young. Were you both happy with your choices?'

`Yes.' Back to the stone wall. The chaperon was ignoring our discussion; I wondered if she was deaf.

`And your brother? I haven't talked to him much about this strange situation where he became the second husband of his best friend's wife.'

`It happens,' said Carina bluntly.

`I know.' I waited quietly.

'Licinius Lutea and my brother were educated together and they served in the same province for their army duty. They had been close friends all their lives. Lutea married first. They had a son. Later, he suffered financial difficulties and Saffia Donata's father insisted on a divorce.'

I raised my eyebrows. `Hard! That's a rather old-fashioned idea, isn't it? Nowadays we tend to believe the parents should not break up happy couples.'

`I only know,' Carina said slowly, `that Saffia did not argue with her father.'

`Any husband can go through a bad patch… I met Donatus. A frantic old buffer. He worries that his girls' dowries will be frittered away while in other hands.'

Carina made no comment on my hint about the old buffer's claim for negligent estate management against her own father. `I think my brother felt sorry for his friend,' she said. 'Lutea was afraid he would lose touch with his son, who was then just a baby. My brother agreed to marry Saffia himself- he needed a wife, he was rather a shy person, and he knew Saffia. It would mean Lutea could still see little Lucius often and eventually Lucius could go and live with his father without too much disruption.'

`So Lutea would once have been a frequent visitor to your brother's home. I gather he and your brother are less close now? And Lutea still seems to be on rather close terms with Saffia?'

Carina knew what I meant. `So he does,' she spoke drily. But she said no more.

I looked her in the eye. She was a married woman, the mother of three children. She must know the world. `Do you think Lutea and Saffia have been playing around during your brother's marriage?'

She coloured and looked at her lap. `I have no reason to suspect it.' She had every reason, I thought.

`Did your brother worry about them?'

`My brother is good-natured and easygoing.' If it were true that he had been cuckolded, I wondered who had fathered Saffia's as yet unborn child. Then I even wondered who had really fathered the first child in this second marriage, the two-year-old daughter.

`Some would say your brother is too easily pushed about.'

`Some would say that,' Carina agreed quietly.

'Saffia told me you were a nice woman,' I remarked. `Would you say anything similar about her?'

`I have nothing to say about Saffia Donata,' said her ex-sister-inlaw. It did not surprise me. Carina was nice. Nice – or else hiding something.

`Let's talk about your mother now. As I said before, don't be alarmed. I want to establish some background. Were your parents only ever married to each other?' A nod of the head. `That's a rare and beautiful situation nowadays! So you children had a happy upbringing and theirs was a comfortable marriage?'

`Yes.'

`They produced three children as the law encourages -' I noticed a flicker of some emotion. Carina stilled it quickly. `You were all born fairly close together, weren't you? Do I deduce that after your mother had her three babies, deliberate measures may have been taken -'

Abortion is illegal; contraception discouraged. Carina bristled. `I could not possibly say anything about that, Falco!'

`I apologise. Excuse me, but your father died in "his" bedroom, I understand. Did your mother have her own room?'

`Yes,' Carina agreed, rather stiffly.

`Plenty of people do,' I assured her. `But my wife and I find the marital bed a more companionable arrangement, I must say.' She made no comment, and I could not bring myself to ask what arrangements she and Laco preferred. `You have a different outlook from your parents. Your mother insisted Saffia had her daughter put to a wet-nurse, I'm told. Did you farm out your own children?'

`No.' Again I saw a fleeting expression I could not place. Perhaps Carina, on the surface so composed, was uneasy about admitting she had spurned Calpurnia's strict childcare advice.

`Dare I ask, is your independent outlook why you have a reputation for being somewhat estranged from your family?'

`I am on perfectly good terms with my family,' Carina declared.

`Oh?' I toughened up. `I heard that there had been trouble, that your husband had to put his foot down over interference – that you yourself refused to attend your father's farewell meal, and that you made an outburst at his funeral accusing your relations of killing him.'

Panic struck her. `I don't want to talk to you any more!'

`Well are my facts right?'

`Yes. But you don't understand -'

`Tell me then.'

`There is nothing to say.'

`When your father had announced he would commit suicide, why didn't you want to see him?' She was silent. `Do you regret that now?'

A tear did start lurking. `It was not like that, Falco. I never refused to attend that lunch; I was not invited. I knew nothing of the discussions. Juliana had told me Papa had decided against suicide – and I even thought my brother was away.'

`So you were estranged?'

`No, they all thought it was easier…' She was trying to rationalise. She wanted to excuse them for leaving her out.

`So does this explain your accusations at the funeral? You felt you had been fed the wrong story -'

`I was upset. I made a mistake.'

`Not entirely – if it turns out that somebody did kill your father.'

`Nobody in my family.'

`You changed your mind about that?'

`I had a long talk with my brother. He explained -' She paused. `Things I had not known before.'

`Your brother told you his story and you accepted that your father's death came from outside the family? So who did it?' 'I can't say. You must deal with it.'

`You are not helping.'

`This is a nightmare.' Rubiria Carina looked at me straight. She spoke like a woman who was being quite honest. Women who are lying always know just how to do that. 'Falco, I wish it would all go away. I want us to know serenity again. I want to hear no more of it.'

`But your brother is accused of parricide,' I reminded her. She was clearly under enormous strain and I feared she would break down.

`That is so hard,' Carina murmured bitterly. `After all that we have suffered. After all he has to live with. It is so unfair on him.'

Her feelings were deep and explained why she had now given refuge to Negrinus at her home. Yet somehow this was not what I had expected her to say. She meant something else; I was missing it, I sensed it.

I asked Carina about her father's will. When she fell back on pretending she was only a woman and unfamiliar with family finances, I dropped the conversation, collected Honorius, and went home.

Honorius had learned little new from Birdy. Still, I expected that.

The young lawyer was not entirely useless. `I asked who holds the copy of the will. This may, or may not, surprise you, Falco. It is with Paccius Africanus.'

I was surprised – but I was not going to show Honorius that.

`Don't tell me -' Informers of the Paccius and Silius type are infamous for chasing legacies. 'Paccius has had himself made the main heir!'

Unbelievably, it was true.