David Wishart - Illegally Dead

I’d really sat up now, and something with a lot of legs was working its way up my spine. ‘Uh…yeah,’ I said carefully. ‘Yeah, I’ve heard of Decidius.’ Met him, too: like Bucca said, he was one of the richest men in the region, if not the whole of Italy, and though he was strictly legit — as far as I knew — he owed a large slice of his income to buying property anonymously through agents, then developing it and selling on to the Roman luxury holiday home market. Especially lakeland property. Like Maecilius’s Six Cedars was.

‘He’s a friend of Acceius’s. A good friend.’

‘Ah…how do you know this, pal?’

‘I know a thing or two,’ Bucca said smugly. ‘I told you. I’ve got a lawyer.’

Publius Novius. In Bovillae. Shit! Professional antagonism or not, Novius was someone I had to talk to. ‘So how would it work?’

‘You know I’ve offered Fimus a deal? To settle out of court?’

‘Yeah. Yeah, I knew that. Split the land and the money half-and-half, then you’ll sell your share of the property and give your brother a third of the proceeds gratis, right?’

‘Right. I’d do it, too, Corvinus. I’m not greedy. The guy I’m dealing with is offering a fair price, I’ve got no one to follow me, and what I’d make out of the sale would take me out of this’ — he nodded at the carts in the yard — ‘for the time I’ve got left. I’d be happy with that. Understand?’

‘Yeah. Yeah, I understand.’

‘Now if Fimus gets the land it’ll go, all of it, to Decidius, and — this is the point — that bastard Acceius’ll earn a whacking commission on the deal.’

‘Hang on, pal.’ I was frowning. ‘I’m sorry. You know your brother far better than me, sure, but I was told in no uncertain terms that he’d never sell, under any circumstances. No way, nohow, never.’

‘Maybe he wouldn’t, left to himself. But you haven’t heard the price yet. And you’ve never met Faenia.’

‘Who’s Faenia?’

‘Fimus’s wife. She’s got her head screwed on and she leads him by the nose. Six Cedars is one of the biggest stretches of land in the area, been in the family for two centuries. If it was sold entire to Decidius, as a package, then he could afford to pay the premium price, because it’d be a major estate, top of the market: three million, plus ten percent to Acceius as a finder’s fee. And Decidius’d still make a clear profit of over five times that when the property’s developed. Or so Novius tells me.’

I whistled. Three million sesterces was serious, serious gravy by anyone’s reckoning, and three hundred thousand just for suppressing a will wasn’t a bad return for the risk, either. As a motive for murder, taking everything else into consideration — and there was a hell of a lot of that — it might well tip the balance.

‘You’re beginning to convince me, pal,’ I said. ‘Uh…does Acceius know you know this?’

‘You think I didn’t tell the bastard to his face I knew what he was up to, right there in the office?’

‘Fine. Fine.’ I stood up. So did Bucca. ‘Well, thanks for your time, friend. It’s been…informative.’

‘You’re welcome. It was nice to have a friendly ear for once.’ I turned to go. Then he said: ‘Corvinus!’

‘Yeah?’

‘One last thing. Cosmus. How did he die?’

I paused. The big eyes were watching me. ‘He was slugged from behind with an iron gate-bolt,’ I said. ‘At least, that’s the expert view.’

‘The poor, silly little bitch,’ Bucca murmured. ‘He never did have much sense.’

‘No,’ I said. ‘No, I don’t think he did.’

I left. Home, and dinner.

When I got back home Alexis was in the front garden doing something horticultural with a trowel to one of Aunt Marcia’s flower beds; Alexis, if you remember, is the brightest button on our household staff who we’d brought along as an intellectual counterweight to Meton. I went over.

‘Hey, pal,’ I said. ‘You got a moment?’

‘Of course, sir.’ He shoved the trowel in, stood up and wiped his hands on his tunic.

‘I’ve a job for you. A bit of digging.’

‘Ah…’ He glanced around.

‘Metaphorical digging. You know the public records office in Bovillae?’

‘I could find it, sir, yes.’

‘I need a name. Guy who came off second best in a prosecution, almost certainly criminal and top-of-the-range, and who got himself sent to the mines or the galleys. Something along those lines, anyway.’

‘No problem, sir. I think I can handle that. Would you like me to — ?’

‘Hold on, sunshine, I haven’t finished. Prosecuting counsel was either Lucius Hostilius or Quintus Acceius or both. That’s the good news, easy-peasy so far. Now we get to the difficult bit. The date could be anything between fifteen and thirty-four years ago. Best to add on a couple of years either side to be safe.’

He looked at me and his lips framed a word that Alexis just didn’t use. I grinned. ‘Sir, do you have any idea how long that will take?’ he said carefully.

‘Uh-uh. Probably the best part of a month unless you strike lucky or find a shortcut, in which case we’re screwed. The trouble is, it’s important and I can’t think of another way to do it. We’ll just have to keep our fingers crossed.’

‘Couldn’t you ask Quintus Acceius himself, sir? He might just — ’

‘No. I don’t want to do that. If Acceius does know then the question might jog his memory if it needed jogging, sure, but…well…in that case he might not want to tell me the answer. And then he’d know I was looking. You follow?’

Alexis nodded: like I say, our Alexis is a smart cookie. ‘What happens if there’s more than one possibility, sir?’

‘I’ll settle for a list, pal. At present I’d settle for anything. But give me them as you turn them up, fine?’

‘You want me to start right away?’

I looked up at the sun. ‘Uh-uh, no point: it’d take you a good hour to get to Bovillae on horseback and the office’d be closing anyway. First thing in the morning, okay? And every day thereafter. Or — better — I’ll give you a note for Quintus Libanius asking if he can arrange to put you up somewhere local and you can take it round to him yourself before dinner. That do?’

‘Yes, sir. Perfect.’

‘Great. Thanks, Alexis. Stay away from wineshops and loose women while you’re in Bovillae, okay? Except in the line of duty.’ Then, when he blushed; Alexis is a sensitive soul: ‘Joke, pal.’

I left him to his trowelling and carried on into the house. Bathyllus shimmied up with the obligatory wine tray.

‘Mistress around, sunshine?’ I said.

‘In the back garden, sir.’

‘Thanks.’ I picked up the cup and wine jug and went through the atrium towards the peristyle. She was sitting in the rose arbour with the usual book in her lap.

‘Profitable day, dear?’ She lifted her head for the welcome-home kiss.

‘Not bad.’ I sat down in the wicker chair opposite. ‘Things seem to be moving. Quintus Acceius might not be the squeaky-clean paragon he sets himself up for.’

‘Really?’ She set the book aside.

‘You remember Aulus Decidius? From a couple of years back?’

‘The entrepreneur? I remember you talking about him, yes.’

‘Turns out that Acceius is a friend of his and there’s a possibility that he might’ve sat on a second will of old Maecilius’s to further the chances of a deal happening with Decidius. Also, the guy may not be as straight-down-the-line ethically in general as he pretends to be.’

‘Ah.’ Perilla hesitated. ‘It all sounds a little woolly, dear, lots of mights and maybes. Have you any actual proof?’