Dead Men's Sandals — David Wishart

'Ah, Corvinus.' Eutacticus was beaming. Bad sign; bad, bad sign. 'Glad you could make it. Sit down, boy. You had a good summer?'Oh, shit; small talk. With Eutacticus you never, ever got small talk. Forget bad; in terms of signs we were into fully-fledged omen territory here.'It was interesting, yeah,' I said. 'We were away most of the time. We've just got back, in fact.''Excellent! So you won't have unpacked yet?''Ah...no, as it happens. We're planning to go down to Castrimoenium to see our adopted daughter and her family. They're-''Were planning.'I blinked. 'Come again?''You heard.' The smile broadened even more, revealing an incisor. 'Were planning. Past tense. You owe me and I'm calling in the favour. You're going to Brundisium.''What?''A little job I want you to do for me.'Deputed by crime boss Sempronius Eutacticus to investigate the murder of one of his 'colleagues', Corvinus finds himself mixing with the soured cream of Brundisium's criminal élite.The twenty-first book in the Marcus Corvinus series.