'You're not keen on this,' I divined.

`Clever man.'

`The evidence turned up on the Aventine.'

`A lot of filth turns up on the Aventine,' snorted Fusculus sourly, almost as if he included us in that category. `This isn't evidence, Falco. Evidence is a material object that casts useful light on a known incident, enabling a prosecution. We have no idea where this forlorn fist came from, and I bet we never will. If you ask me,' he went on, evidently thinking he, had found an inspired solution, `it must have been polluting the water supply, so tracing any other body parts is a problem for the water board. I'll report the find. It's up to the Curator of Aqueducts to take action.'

`Don't be stupid,' scoffed Petro. `When did anyone in the water board ever show any initiative? They're all too busy working fiddles.'

`I'll threaten to expose a few. Any sign of you coming back to work, chief?''

`Ask Rubella,' growled Petro, though I knew the tribune had said my foolish pal was to ditch the gangster's daughter before showing his face around the cohort again. Unless I had missed something, that still left Petro with a goodbye speech to make to Milvia.

`I heard you were in business with Falco nowadays?' For a pleasant man, Fusculus seemed to be in a starchy mood. I was not surprised. Informers have a black name amongst most Romans, but we are particularly reviled by the vigiles. The cohorts keep lists with our names on so they can knock on our doors halfway through dinner and drag us off for questioning about nothing in particular. State servants always hate people who are paid by results.

`I'm just helping him out informally. Why – do you miss me?' Petro asked.

`No, I'm just wondering when I can apply for your post.' It was said in jest, but the fact was, unless Petronius Longus sorted out his private life rather quickly the joke would become fact. Warning him, though, would only make it worse. Petronius had a stubborn side. He had always had a tendency to rebel against authority. It was why we were friends.