Graveyard of the Hesperides Read Online Free Page A

life,” agreed Liberalis with another tinge of envy. I tried not to groan.
    â€œSo what exactly is this story about his missing barmaid?”
    Liberalis shrugged. Faustus and I again waited for him to elaborate. Finally he caved in, though he was sparing with real facts: “Rufia was a waitress at the Hesperides. Everyone who went there knew her. One day she suddenly disappeared, without any warning. Nothing more was ever heard of her. Old Thales was the owner at the time. That is all I know.”
    â€œSo people thought the landlord did her in?” I demanded bluntly.
    Liberalis shrugged again.
    â€œUnfounded rumors or grain of truth?” Faustus tried, but it still took him nowhere. “How long ago was it? Did you know Rufia yourself?”
    â€œI told you, everyone who patronized the Hesperides knew Rufia.”
    â€œIncluding you? You weren’t too young?”
    â€œIncluding me.”
    â€œBut you wouldn’t describe your relationship with her as close?”
    â€œThat’s right. She was a barmaid. She put my dinner on the table; she didn’t bother to chat. She knew me as one of the family but she treated me as a customer, a young one, too, in those days.”
    â€œWhat kind of barmaid?” I put in.
    â€œThe normal kind,” answered Liberalis calmly.
    â€œShe gave the full range of services?”
    â€œShe was a barmaid,” he insisted, not even blinking.
    We all knew what he meant.

 
    V
    Consulting each other with a glance, Faustus and I stopped the interview. We would find out more from other people before, if necessary, pressing Liberalis harder. So far, he had only confirmed the vague rumor that had hung around the Hesperides for years. It could be all he knew. It could be all anybody knew nowadays. But instinctively I felt he was holding back.
    The person to question next, were it possible, would be the previous landlord, but Old Thales, colorful character and chief suspect, was inconveniently dead. I decided not to question his successor about him any more at this stage, since Liberalis might feel too much gratitude to be honest, after the bequest of his coveted bar. I would ask around locally, starting soon, before there was daft gossip and people were lured into “knowing” that mere supposition was fact. That crowd who had headed off to the Romulus would now be standing there deciding Rufia’s history. Loudmouths with their elbows on the counter would be telling how it was, on the flimsiest evidence. I had seen it too often. The wilder their stories, the more the rest swore they had personally seen it all happen—and they would soon genuinely believe they had. Then I would never shake them.
    Before we left, Faustus reminded Liberalis he was a magistrate. As well as general responsibility for neighborhood order, aediles had a particular remit for the good behavior of bars. The Sixth District was not in his formal jurisdiction, though of course Faustus worked closely with the relevant colleague. There would be consultation. The colleague would take an interest, though he might leave the problem to Faustus. (Bound to, I thought.) The local vigiles would also be informed. Faustus himself felt obliged to tell them, though they would obviously hear about the bones anyway; he hoped they would be reassured by his presence on the spot and would leave him to deal with the problem.
    Liberalis took this well. He was assuming a helpful manner now. He started to express shock at the grisly finds today. He wanted things to be sorted out as painlessly as possible and would be all too ready to cooperate if anyone told him how. He even thanked Faustus for taking charge.
    More fool Liberalis.
    In reality he must have thought most builders would quietly parcel up the skeleton and scatter the bits in another district. It was his bad luck to be employing a firm that had been taken over midway by a magistrate—and that rarity, one who had