Taking orders from a subordinate is bad enough. Following up some lousy lead he has only bothered to pass on via his mother must be the billygoat's armpit. Even so, I did ask to read the letter.

Later, safely back at home, Helena Justina poked me in the ribs.. Own up. You are fascinated.'

Mildly curious.'

Why did my ridiculous brother alert Mama?'

Too lazy to write separately to us. He wants to know what the father has to say – the father of the first dead girl.'

Had you heard about that?'

Vaguely. It's the Caesius case.'

So you are going to see the father? Can I come too?'

No.'

Helena came with me.

We knew in advance the interview would be sensitive.

This was the situation- at the Olympic Games three years ago a young girl, travelling with a group of sightseers from Rome, went missing. Her distraught father tried to investigate; in fact, he had been doing so non-stop – far too long to nag on about it, the hard-hearted Roman public thought. He went out there and doggedly searched until he found the girl's remains. He tried to discover the circumstances of her death, then was soon making well-publicised claims that his child had been murdered. He had been agitating for answers ever since.

Finding the girl's body annoyed the authorities; they had failed to investigate properly in the first place, so they resisted reopening the enquiry. Knowing the daughter was dead took Caesius no further. Eventually he ran out of time, money, and energy; he was forced to return home, case unproven. Still obsessed, he had managed to rake up some interest among the Forum gossips, which was why I had heard of him. Most people dismissed him as a man crazed by grief, an