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master. So stern had been this legendary waitress, he still used the present tense. “Besides, if Rufia was trying to eject someone and they declined her invitation to leave, everyone else in the bar would come and help her.”
    â€œHo, ho! Her word was law?” That was slightly unexpected. “It doesn’t sound as though it would be easy for someone to overpower Rufia and do her in—which must be what happened, if those are her bones in the courtyard.”
    â€œOverpowering is always doable if it’s tackled the right way,” Passus disagreed. I reminded myself that these experts spent their time persuading enormous specimens of cattle to go willingly to their deaths. It was essential that a sacrifice did not protest, or you had to start again.
    It would have been impolite to suggest the victimarii had murdered Rufia. They seemed too good-hearted. (I know! That old cliché. I would never accept it from a witness, but of course my own judgment was trustworthy…) I momentarily envisaged them hanging a garland around the barmaid’s neck, walking her to an altar with gentle encouragement, then, Kneel down for us, Rufia, don’t worry—whack … stun … whizzo … slit—gather up all her spurting blood in special bronze bowls  …
    Presumably not. Whatever happened to Rufia was most likely sudden, messy violence carried out by an enraged acquaintance, or perhaps done by a stranger. A stranger would probably be untraceable now. An acquaintance might be an easier prospect.
    â€œDid Rufia have a boyfriend?” They sniggered. Apparently not. So much for my most obvious suspect. “Do you find the suggestion amusing?” I pressed.
    â€œShe was not exactly the type,” claimed Erastus.
    Passus added, “No one would have dared.”
    â€œBeing the bouncer? I am gathering that Rufia was a force of nature. Was she quarrelsome?”
    â€œNot if you did things her way.”
    â€œYou’re implying people generally did? Anyone hold a grudge against her?”
    Without obvious consultation, the victimarii all shook their heads. They were positive. Too positive? Sometimes you just catch a hint of conspiracy. Had I noticed flickers?
    â€œAll sure about that? Well, if you remember anything, please let me know.”
    They each nodded again, good honest fellows. All not looking at one another.
    Were they simply convinced there had been no grudges? That Rufia was a genuinely lovely girl with a sweet personality, whom everyone liked? A lovely but very strong-armed girl who could (and would) expel louts and generally make people follow orders? I had seen barmaids like that. They enjoy their power. Bars being what they are, I do not blame them.
    â€œDo you remember that time, when she disappeared?” There were nods, freshly helpful. “Was it known immediately? The same night or next morning? Or did people only gradually become aware she had gone missing?”
    This question seemed to puzzle them. “I suppose it was gradual,” decided Costus.
    â€œThe bar had other staff, so Rufia dropping her shifts might initially pass without disrupting the place?”
    â€œThere was some cursing from the waiters!” Victor grinned.
    â€œBars tend to have a shifting complement,” I mused. “Staff do come and go … How quickly did the dark rumors start? The suspicion that she had been murdered?”
    They could not tell me. Stories of her being killed and buried in the courtyard seemed to have grown up slowly until all the world just knew about it.
    â€œWhat did the landlord, Thales, have to say?”
    â€œHe harrumphed and made no comment. That was how he was.”
    â€œWas he suspected from the beginning?” Again, the landlord’s supposed involvement developed subtly. There was no public outcry and no one investigated. Although people guessed Rufia had been killed and he was guilty, no one said so