ODE TO A BANKER

That was when I moved in and took over. `No, we learned about Pisarchus from a private source.' Nothokleptes. 'It is freely available gossip in the Janus Medius.' This must have been the first time in history Nothokleptes had given me something for nothing. `I hear the odds there are on Pisarchus as the killer, in fact. My interest centres on him too. I'm wondering if he was the man with the sour mood I myself saw at the scriptorium, the very morning Chrysippus was killed.'

Lucrio shook his head, sorrowing. `I'm grieved to hear that, Falco. Pisarchus is one of our oldest clients. His family has dealt with the Chrysippus trapeza for generations back in Greece.'

I flashed a smile. `Don't fret. Maybe it's not him. Still, it has given us a clear picture of how your trapeza operates.'

`Nothing illegal.'

`Nothing soft, either!'

`We have to protect our investors.'

`Oh I'm sure you do.'

I let Petronius resume the questioning. `Let's clear up one tricky item, Lucrio…' Now he would definitely try out the stuff that Fusculus had squeezed from the slaves. `I have a tip that you and Chrysippus went through a crisis once?' Lucrio looked annoyed. Petronius spelled it out: `You have been the bank's freedman-agent for a number of years. Before that, while you were still in service as a young slave – this must have been before you reached the age of thirty, when you could be freed – you were given a portfolio to manage on your master's behalf. It was the usual situation: you were allowed to run the fund and to keep any profits, but the capital – what is called the peculium still belonged to your master and had to be returned to him in due course. Now tell me – was there not a problem when you were first manumitted from slavery, and had to hand back the peculium and render an account of your management?'

Lucrio had stopped casually pacing the room, though he continued chewing nuts. `It was a misunderstanding. There were queries on the figures; I was able to answer all of them.'

`What sort of queries?' insisted Petronius.

`Oh – whether I had mixed up the peculium float.'

`Mixed it with your own money? Had you?'

`Not intentionally. I was a lad, a bit slapdash – you know how it is.

We sorted it out. Chrysippus was never bothered. It was others who made much of it -jealous, probably.'

`Yes, I assume Chrysippus ended up happy, because he went on to let you – in effect – run the bank.'

`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