By Paul Carrier
Petronius Longus routinely pops up in Lindsey Davis’ Falco mysteries, which star Marcus Didius Falco as a shrewd and cynical “informer” (i.e., private investigator) during the reign of the Roman Emperor Vespasian.
In Time to Depart, the likable but retiring Longus finally moves to center stage. And the longer he stays there, the more complicated his life becomes. A detective in Cohort IV of the Roman Vigiles, a combination police force and firefighting squad, Longus is Falco’s best friend. He’s also a hard-nosed pillar of virtue amid the corruption of Ancient Rome.
In the opening pages of Time to Depart, Longus is flying high, in his own understated way. He has managed to secure the conviction and exile of Balbinus Pius, a notorious mob boss who ruled the Roman underworld.
But Longus' mood turns sour within hours of Pius’s forced departure from the city when thieves stage a well-orchestrated raid on the massive Roman Emporium, picking it clean of its most valuable commodities, including a shipment of glassware that Falco only recently brought home from the east for his auctioneer father.
The robbery is problematic for Longus because the Emporium is on his turf. Before he can launch an investigation, Longus is summoned by the emperor to discuss what has happened, and how to deal with it. Fearing that a new crime boss may have quickly emerged to replace Pius, the emperor establishes a special squad to sort things out, with Longus and Falco among the investigators.
Too straightforward a plot line, you say? No, because subplots abound.
Titus, the emperor’s son and heir to the throne, hires Falco for a secret mission to investigate possible corruption within the Vigiles. To his chagrin, Falco must keep everyone - including Longus - in the dark during the probe.
Helena Justina, a senator’s daughter and Falco’s live-in girlfriend, learns that she is pregnant - a troublesome turn of events not least because Falco is in no position to marry Justina. He is her social inferior, and Titus’ brother, Domitian, has denied Falco’s request to elevate him to a higher rank in Roman society.
Then there’s the mystery baby. While cleaning out a vacant apartment he hopes to move into with Justina, Falco finds a seemingly healthy infant in a dumpster. He brings the boy home, but questions abound. Who is the child? Why was he abandoned? And what is to be done with the baby?
But isn’t this a murder mystery, you ask? Ostensibly, yes. Time to Depart has so many moving parts (and that’s a good thing) that the brutal murder of Nonnius Albius, a former Pius lieutenant, simply makes Falco’s predicament all the more intriguing. Additional killings follow, as Falco and Longus roam from Roman mansions to a notorious brothel in search of the murderer.
Davis again displays her thorough knowledge of Roman architecture, history, culture and mores. When an imperial bureaucrat asks Longus to explain the somewhat tangled web of Roman law enforcement, for example, he launches into a concise but authoritative overview of the various divisions of responsibility, including the nine cohorts of the Praeteorian Guard, the three cohorts commanded by the urban prefect, and the seven cohorts of Vigiles.
As always, Falco’s witty narration and smart-assed conversational gambits are a delight. Strapped for cash and not known for his sartorial splendor, Falco “put on a tunic that had spiced itself up with a gay shower of moth holes and renewed acquaintance with a wrinkled old belt that looked as if it had been tanned from the ox Romulus had used to measure Rome.”
For good measure, Davis throws in an offbeat wedding with an ill-starred bride and groom who have been staples in the Falco series. Hilarity ensues, followed by high drama and a satisfying conclusion to the investigation of the crime spree.
In Time to Depart, the likable but retiring Longus finally moves to center stage. And the longer he stays there, the more complicated his life becomes. A detective in Cohort IV of the Roman Vigiles, a combination police force and firefighting squad, Longus is Falco’s best friend. He’s also a hard-nosed pillar of virtue amid the corruption of Ancient Rome.
In the opening pages of Time to Depart, Longus is flying high, in his own understated way. He has managed to secure the conviction and exile of Balbinus Pius, a notorious mob boss who ruled the Roman underworld.
But Longus' mood turns sour within hours of Pius’s forced departure from the city when thieves stage a well-orchestrated raid on the massive Roman Emporium, picking it clean of its most valuable commodities, including a shipment of glassware that Falco only recently brought home from the east for his auctioneer father.
The robbery is problematic for Longus because the Emporium is on his turf. Before he can launch an investigation, Longus is summoned by the emperor to discuss what has happened, and how to deal with it. Fearing that a new crime boss may have quickly emerged to replace Pius, the emperor establishes a special squad to sort things out, with Longus and Falco among the investigators.
Too straightforward a plot line, you say? No, because subplots abound.
Titus, the emperor’s son and heir to the throne, hires Falco for a secret mission to investigate possible corruption within the Vigiles. To his chagrin, Falco must keep everyone - including Longus - in the dark during the probe.
Helena Justina, a senator’s daughter and Falco’s live-in girlfriend, learns that she is pregnant - a troublesome turn of events not least because Falco is in no position to marry Justina. He is her social inferior, and Titus’ brother, Domitian, has denied Falco’s request to elevate him to a higher rank in Roman society.
Then there’s the mystery baby. While cleaning out a vacant apartment he hopes to move into with Justina, Falco finds a seemingly healthy infant in a dumpster. He brings the boy home, but questions abound. Who is the child? Why was he abandoned? And what is to be done with the baby?
But isn’t this a murder mystery, you ask? Ostensibly, yes. Time to Depart has so many moving parts (and that’s a good thing) that the brutal murder of Nonnius Albius, a former Pius lieutenant, simply makes Falco’s predicament all the more intriguing. Additional killings follow, as Falco and Longus roam from Roman mansions to a notorious brothel in search of the murderer.
Davis again displays her thorough knowledge of Roman architecture, history, culture and mores. When an imperial bureaucrat asks Longus to explain the somewhat tangled web of Roman law enforcement, for example, he launches into a concise but authoritative overview of the various divisions of responsibility, including the nine cohorts of the Praeteorian Guard, the three cohorts commanded by the urban prefect, and the seven cohorts of Vigiles.
As always, Falco’s witty narration and smart-assed conversational gambits are a delight. Strapped for cash and not known for his sartorial splendor, Falco “put on a tunic that had spiced itself up with a gay shower of moth holes and renewed acquaintance with a wrinkled old belt that looked as if it had been tanned from the ox Romulus had used to measure Rome.”
For good measure, Davis throws in an offbeat wedding with an ill-starred bride and groom who have been staples in the Falco series. Hilarity ensues, followed by high drama and a satisfying conclusion to the investigation of the crime spree.
