Falco: The Next Generation––Flavia Albia has taken up her father's profession. Only, now Rome is a more dangerous, mercurial place than it was back in dear old dad's day . . . Flavia Albia is the adopted daughter of Marcus Didius Falco and Helena Justina. From her mother, she learned how to blend in at all levels of society; from her father, she learned the tricks of their mutual professional trade. But her wits and (frequently) sharp tongue are hers alone. Now, working as a private informer in Rome during the reign of Domitian, Flavia has taken over her father's old ramshackle digs at Fountain Court in the Surbura district, where she plies her trade with energy, determination, and the usual Falco luck. Recently hired to help investigate a fatal accident, she finds herself stuck with a truly awful person for a client and facing a well-heeled, well-connected opponent. That is, until her client unexpectedly dies under what might be called "suspicious circumstances." While this is not a huge loss for society, it is a loss for Flavia Albia's pocket. Even worse, it's just one of a series of similar deaths for which she now finds herself under suspicion. Before things go from abysmal to worse, Flavia must sort out what is happening, and who is responsible, in Lindsey Davis' The Ides of April. *Starred Review* Fans of Davis’ best-selling series featuring first-century Roman informer Marcus Didius Falco will welcome the arrival of this spin-off centered on Falco’s spirited adopted daughter, Flavia Albia. The lovely young woman, who has had a minor but memorable presence in the previous series entries, is known for her intellectual acumen and acid tongue. Now she puts those traits on display in a series debut that’s both suspenseful and sly. (Would we expect anything less of the talented Davis?) As the novel opens, Flavia Albia has taken over her father’s rundown digs at Fountain Court in the Surbura district of Rome, where she’s faced with a most unsavory client. (Alas, work is work, and, as a neophyte investigator, she can’t afford to be particular.) Flavia Albia’s windfall turns to woe when her charge is found dead. To make matters worse, she is suspected of having a hand in the crime. Like her father, Flavia Albia relies on levity and level-headedness to find her way out of trouble. Davis delights once again with her trademark blend of quirky characters and rich period detail. Given the author’s prolific nature (the Falco series has 20-plus installments), readers can anticipate Flavia Albia to be a compelling presence for years to come. --Allison Block “Davis' best-selling historical mysteries brim with colorful characters and rich period detail, providing readers with a vivid portrait of ancient Rome.” ― Booklist on Master and God “Lindsey Davis doesn't just bring Rome to life--she brings Rome to life better than anyone else ever has.” ― Detroit Free Press on The Silver Pigs “An irresistible package of history, mystery, and fast-moving action, all punctuated by a sense of humor that few writers can match.” ― The Cleveland Plain Dealer on Venus in Copper LINDSEY DAVIS is the author of The New York Times bestselling series of historical mysteries featuring Marcus Didius Falco. She lives in London. The Ides of April By Lindsey Davis St. Martin's Press Copyright © 2013 Lindsey Davis All rights reserved. ISBN: 978-1-250-02369-8 CHAPTER 1 Lucius Bassus was three years old when his mother took her eyes off him and he ran out of the house to play. They lived on the Clivus Publicius, a steep road on the Aventine Hill, where he was knocked down by a builder's cart. The cart, which escaped its driver's control as it sped down the slope, was owned by Metellus and Nepos, an outfit that worked from a yard on the hill. Nobody talked about Nepos; at first I thought he might be an invention for some tax fiddle. This business was no more shady than most in Imperial Rome. It carried out refurbishments for bar owners who wanted to move up from blatantly sleazy to a pretence of hygiene. The custom was that the Metellus crew would tender for a full deep-clean and fancy renovation, promising to complete in eight weeks max. In practice, every project took two years and they skimped on the fittings. They would re-grout the marble counters, put in a new doorstep, provide a misspelt signboard and charge the earth for it. By then their clients, unable to operate in the permanent dustcloud, had lost their custom and were going under. It amazed me that other bar owners saw what happened yet still used the firm, but they did. Over the years Metellus and Nepos had done very nicely out of Roman rotgut-sellers innocently trusting them. But killing a child, in the close-knit Aventine community where we had some standards, just might be commercially stupid. Lucius died at once from his injuries. He never stood a chance. He expired on the kerb. Inevitably, at that very moment his distraught mother came out of the house. It