Graveyard of the Hesperides Read Online Free Page B

scruples.
    *   *   *
    After we left the untidy apartment, I tackled Tiberius about my proposed inquiries. Nothing would have stopped me taking an interest. But if this was to be done properly, he would have to acknowledge a logistical problem. Tiberius himself had already found it hard to visit the site, even on an infrequent basis. It would be worse for me because I would need to be present every day. Our Aventine home was a long stretch from here; you had to come down from our hill, negotiate the huge valley of the Circus Maximus, pass around into the Forum, batter through the crowds, and come onto the Argiletum before beating up the Vicus Longus. Going home was worse because you had to slog up the Aventine at the end, when already exhausted.
    â€œDarling, I shall need to come over all the time. There-and-back travel will be much too tiring.”
    Tiberius conceded the point. We would rent somewhere to stay; he would come as well, which made it much more attractive. I knew there was accommodation at the Hesperides, which I had not seen, but those rooms could only be tiny, and currently they seemed to be home to the bar’s unemployed waitstaff. Besides, who wants to sleep in a fug of concrete dust?
    Our night watchman had found himself a half-decent billet to sleep in during the day. It was upstairs from a feltmaker’s, so a grade better than living above a bar, though right on a busy crossroads. We took the bones there for safekeeping overnight. Tiberius instructed Trypho to move out and sleep in the Hesperides. Now that the site was a crime scene, having it guarded was doubly wise.
    If my beloved was to scrape a living, I might need to monitor his costs. I said nothing yet, since I had no wish to be a married woman who nagged about the family business—except when there was a clear need, in which case I would certainly not hold back. Gaining my trusted advice was why Tiberius had taken me on, surely?
    I did not want to be formally married at all, which was another reason for moving here, away from the wedding furor. However, the dogged Manlius Faustus had other ideas: “I will have to go over to visit the aediles’ office sometimes, for my duties,” he said. “Don’t worry, I can see how the wedding plans are progressing then.”
    What a darling.
    I sweetly assured him I was not intending to worry, since I myself did not want any progress on his terrible idea. He remained relaxed. I was beginning to see how he handled me, never becoming excited if I dug my heels in. It would probably work.
    He had found helpers for his project. Two dark little handmaids had inveigled themselves into his confidence, wedding planners who could have organized Pluto’s union to Proserpina in the Underworld, all wailing and downturned torches: my sisters, aged sixteen and fourteen. Tiberius had promised them a free hand, so long as they created a huge splash that would tell everyone on the Aventine he and I were married. Julia and Favonia were thrilled. They knew everything that ought to happen, much of it mythical in origin. They had no idea of common sense or cost.
    â€œThis mystery must not cause a delay,” Tiberius told me fondly. “We shall just have to solve what happened to Rufia before our wedding day.”
    â€œA race against time, eh? My favorite kind of case!” I have had pressures on investigations often, but never the deadline of being a bride. There was a date set. I had been ignoring it. Our ceremony was to be the last day of August. That was only six days away.
    I wanted to begin investigating quickly anyway, because that is the best plan when a body turns up. I sent off my bridegroom to pick up things we would need from our apartment, while I started at once.
    â€œBring clothes, bath things, writing equipment—and absolutely our own bedsheets. Don’t worry about food. I’ll obtain something during my inquiries. The bakery is always a good