David Wishart - Illegally Dead

Fuscus frowned. ‘I’m sorry, Valerius Corvinus, I know nothing about any quarrel with Fimus; in fact, I’d be very surprised if you haven’t made a mistake over the name, or that your informant has. After all, they are brothers.’

‘Uh-uh. No mistake, pal.’ There wasn’t, I was absolutely sure of that. Bucca’s name hadn’t come up in the conversation at Pontius’s at all.

‘Then it’s odd. Marcus Maecilius — Fimus — is the firm’s client, and as far as I’m aware he has no complaints whatsoever about how his brief is being handled.’

‘That’s the disputed will business, right? Which of his sons gets old “Lucky” Maecilius’s land?’

‘Correct. We are defending the status quo, under which Marcus — Fimus — gets the property and a quarter of the monetary estate while his brother has the balance.’

‘Who’s on the other side, by the way? Just out of interest?’

‘Bucca’s lawyer? Publius Novius, in Bovillae.’ Was it my imagination, or had there been just a touch of asperity in Fuscus’s tone. ‘The case is scheduled for next month.’

‘Okay. So tell me about this quarrel between Hostilius and Bucca.’

‘It wasn’t only with Hostilius, sir, but I’ve nothing much to tell, actually. It happened the day before the knife attack. Bucca came into the office in the course of the morning and demanded to see both partners. Fortunately both Hostilius and Acceius were in and free. They took Bucca into Acceius’s room — that’s that one there, sir’ — Fuscus nodded towards the door on the right — ‘and held the interview. It didn’t last long, no more than ten minutes, all told, after which Bucca came out and left straight away. He was…not happy.’

‘Uh-huh. You didn’t bat an eyelid when I used the word “spat”, pal. So I assume this interview must’ve been pretty stormy?’

‘Yes, sir. As you can see, the doors to both rooms are very solid. I would not, of course, ever think of listening in on one of the gentlemen’s private conversations with a client, but normally it would be impossible in any case. In this instance I could hear the voices quite distinctly.’

‘Uh…distinctly enough to make out what they were saying?’

Pause. ‘Yes, sir. In part, at least, whether I wished to or not.’

‘And?’

‘I’m sorry, sir. You’ll have to forgive me, but I really cannot take the responsibility for answering that question, not without consulting Quintus Acceius first. It’s a matter of confidentiality, you understand. Acceius was present himself, as I say, and if you ask him I’m sure he’ll tell you.’

Yeah, well; that was fair enough, and the guy was quite right. ‘No problem, pal,’ I said. I stood up. ‘Thanks for your help. That’s about it for the present, unless you’ve anything else you think is relevant.’

‘No, sir. Or if it is then it’s nothing I’m aware of.’ He stood himself. ‘Good luck with your investigations, Valerius Corvinus, and please feel free to return at any time. I’m sure, again, that you’ve heard this before, but Lucius Hostilius was an excellent man for most of his life, and a fine lawyer of great probity.’

I left.

Outside, the door-slave had gone back to sitting on the step kicking his heels. He was a young kid, no more than twelve or thirteen.

‘Ah…Sextus?’ I said.

He stood up. ‘Yes, sir.’

‘Fuscus said you might be able to tell me something about the knife attack on your master fourteen days back.’

‘Yes indeed, sir.’ He pointed up the street, towards the town square. ‘Lucius Hostilius and Quintus Acceius were crossing the road just about the water trough, sir. Coming in this direction.’

About a hundred yards away, in other words. ‘Uh-huh. What happened then?’

‘The man was behind them, following and getting closer. He shouted something — nothing important, sir, just something like “Wait!” — and when they turned he drew a knife from his belt and went straight for Lucius Hostilius. Then…well, there was a struggle, I couldn’t see exactly what was happening, but I started running over. Not just me, there were quite a few people. By the time I got there he was lying on the ground with his side all blood, stone dead, sir. I helped Acceius get Hostilius over here and he sat down on the steps a bit, just where I’m standing now, until he felt more up to things. They were both pretty shook, sir. Acceius as well.’ He paused. ‘That’s about all there was to it, really.’

‘The man didn’t say anything when he attacked Hostilius? Besides shouting “Wait!”?’

The kid’s brow furrowed. ‘Actually, he could of done, sir, now you mention. I saw his lips move, but I was too far away to hear anything. So was everyone else, except for the gentlemen themselves.’

Yeah. Yeah, right. Bugger! Well, whatever Acceius said, when I talked to him, I’d have to take his word for it. Or not, as the case might be. Still, we’d cross that bridge when we came to it.

‘How about Hostilius himself? He say anything while you and Acceius were helping him over here, or when he was sitting on the steps?’

‘No, sir. Not a word. I think he was too shocked, like. Fact is, I thought he’d peg out there and then, he was a terrible colour. Wouldn’t have us fetch Doctor Hyperion, though, when we did get him inside, not at any price. Said he was fine, just wanted to be left alone. He went and sat in his room for a while, then got the litter-slaves to take him home.’

‘What was Quintus Acceius doing while all this was happening?’

Sextus shrugged. ‘Nothing in particular, sir. Nothing he could do, with Hostilius in the mood he was. Once he’d made sure he was all right he went home himself.’

‘What happened to the corpse? You know?’

‘They took it to Trophius the undertaker’s, sir. That’s Trophius’s over there.’ The kid pointed again, this time the other way.

I reached into my belt-pouch and brought out a silver piece. ‘Thanks, Sextus. You’ve been a great help.’

‘You’re very welcome, sir.’

I set off towards the corner of the block. Time to have a long-awaited word with Acceius.

The door-slave left me to admire the decor in the lobby while he checked that the master was receiving. If that was anything to go by, Acceius’s private residence showed the same combination of expensive and tasteful as his office: top-of-the-range mosaic, artwork and statuary. Not short of a gold piece or two, then, Hostilius’s partner.

‘This way, sir.’ The door-slave was back. ‘If you’d like to come through.’

We went into the atrium. More marble and more bronzes including an absolute beaut of a satyr playing the double-flute. Oh, and one stunner of a lady sitting in a chair by the ornamental pool.

‘Valerius Corvinus,’ she said. ‘I’m sorry, Quintus is just up and being shaved; he was in Rome on business yesterday and didn’t get back until just before dawn. He does know you’re here, though, and he sends his apologies and says he’ll be as quick as possible. I’m Seia Lucinda. His wife.’ She smiled. ‘But you’d probably assumed that already.’

‘Yeah.’ I grinned back. ‘I had, as a matter of fact. I’m pleased to meet you, Seia Lucinda. And any apologies due are mine. Your husband’s clerk said he’d rather I wasn’t too prompt.’

‘No, your timing’s perfect. Almost perfect; but that’s not your fault. Sit down, please. Carillus, some wine.’ The slave who’d been hanging around the entrance when I came in bowed and went out.

I pulled up a chair — they seemed to prefer chairs, in this house, although there were a couple of expensive-looking couches — and sat. Seia Lucinda was an absolute honey: mid- to late thirties, jet-black hair, an oval face, olive skin and big, almond-shaped eyes. Scopas had said she was from one of the old local families, but I wondered if there wasn’t some African blood there; maybe even Carthaginian. It was possible, sure.