David Wishart - Illegally Dead

‘Come on, Pontius!’ Gabba took another swallow of wine. ‘You know damn well what it was about, or you can guess!’

Pontius moved over to stand in front of him. He was looking serious as hell now, and he’s a big lad. Their eyes locked, and Gabba edged back on his stool.

‘Maybe I can at that,’ Pontius said slowly. ‘There again, maybe I’d be wrong. But in any case, boy, it’s none of my business, and it’s not yours or Corvinus’s either. There’s been no crime committed as far as we know’ — he looked at me, and I stared back expressionlessly — ‘and I won’t hear the dead or the living slandered in my bar just for amusement. Now you’ve had your fun and it’s over. Call it a day or drink up. The same goes for you, Corvinus.’

The silence lengthened. Finally, Gabba waved his hand like he’d burned the fingers.

‘Ouch!’ He shrugged. ‘Very well, Pontius lad, point made and taken on board. You care to choose a subject for conversation?’

Pontius sucked a tooth for a few seconds, frowning. Then he grinned. ‘Rome’s always good for a laugh,’ he said.

Confrontation over; a good lad, Pontius, and he can gauge his clientele to a T. We shot the breeze about Rome, and the new emperor, and finished the other half jug.

Hmm.

When I got home mid-afternoon Perilla was sitting in the atrium with the two youngsters head-to-head over a game of Robbers.

‘Oh, hello, Marcus.’ Perilla put down her book. ‘Did you have a nice morning?’

‘Yeah. Yeah, it was okay.’ I planted the requisite smacker and pulled up a stool. ‘Libanius arrived yet?’

‘About fifteen minutes ago. He’s with Aunt Marcia and Hyperion in the study.’

‘Fine. Hey, Clarus!’

‘Yes, Corvinus?’ He looked up.

‘You know of anyone by the name of Fimus?’

‘Sure, he farms over by Six Cedars. Marcus Maecilius.’

‘Hear of a connection between him and Lucius Hostilius at all?’

‘Yes. Hostilius and Acceius are representing him in a court case against his brother.’

‘Acceius?’ Perilla said.

‘Hostilius’s partner.’ I turned back to Clarus. ‘You know what the case is about?’

Clarus grinned. ‘If I didn’t I’d be the only one in Castrimoenium.’

‘They’re wrangling over old “Lucky” Maecilius’s will,’ Marilla said.

‘Happen to know the details?’

‘Not as such,’ Clarus said. ‘But the gist of it is that although his elder son got most of the cash old Maecilius left all the land to Fimus.’

‘That so, now?’ Well, as a valid reason for litigation you wouldn’t get better, not somewhere like Castrimoenium. In farming districts like Latium they take land very, very seriously, and there isn’t a surer way to split a family at a death than a spat over how the acres are divided. Besides, Pontius had said there was quite a bit of actual money involved, too, which might well’ve complicated matters. But it raised a question in its own right. If anything, barring a general parcelling-out — and I could see that that’d cause problems of its own — testamentary dispensations usually went the other way, with the property in toto going to the eldest son and the younger ones taking their share of the available cash. Maecilius was a farmer to his boots, he must’ve known a cack-handed arrangement like that would lead to trouble. ‘He have a reason for doing things that way, do you know? Old “Lucky”, I mean?’

‘Certainly. Or at least, it makes good practical sense. Fimus’s worked Six Cedars with his father all his life. Bucca’s no farmer, never has been.’

‘Bucca? That’s the other son?’ They did like their nicknames, the Castrimoenians: the word means ‘The Mouth’ or ‘Bragger’.

‘Yes. He’s got a carting and saddlery business in town. His name’s really Gaius, but Bucca’s what everyone calls him. It fits, too.’

‘Not a popular bunny, then?’

That got a grin. ‘Oh, no.You won’t find many locals who’ve much time for Bucca Maecilius. Nor did his father, for that matter. The general opinion is he was lucky to get as much as he did, and as far as the court case is concerned he hasn’t got a hope in hell.’

‘Why do you think Hostilius’d call — ?’ I began, but I was interrupted by the sight of Marcia and Hyperion coming from the direction of the study with Quintus Libanius in tow. ‘Never mind, we’ll pick up on that one later.’

‘Ah, Valerius Corvinus, you’re here.’ Libanius came across, hand outstretched, and I stood up. ‘A pleasure to see you again.’

‘Likewise. How are you, Libanius?’ We shook.

‘Hello, Marcus.’ Marcia lowered herself carefully onto her usual stool and straightened a fold of her mantle. She looked old, even older than she usually did; but maybe that was just me noticing it more. ‘Now. Hyperion and I have discussed the situation with Quintus and he fully understands the position.’

‘Absolutely,’ Libanius said. He had that glazed, punch-drunk look about him that being on the receiving end of one of Marcia’s discussions leaves you with. ‘Hyperion’s quite right, Corvinus, the matter ought to be investigated. Consequently I’d be grateful for any help you can give.’ He paused. ‘However, there is the major problem of a formal charge. I’ve told the Lady Marcia that as representative of the town authorities I’m more than willing to provide you with authorisation for an investigation, but — ’

He stopped. The guy looked unhappy, and I didn’t blame him. Yeah, that aspect of things had been worrying me too. Hell!

‘But Hostilius’s death wasn’t obvious murder.’ I filled in what he hadn’t said. ‘No obvious murder, no excuse for a public enquiry, certainly not without the family’s permission. Meaning, in this case, the guy’s wife. And if — what’s her name; Veturina? — doesn’t give it, and why should she because she’d be a prime suspect if not the actual villain, then we’re completely in schtook. Right?’

Libanius looked even more unhappy. ‘Indeed,’ he said. ‘And that is exactly where we’re likely to remain. As far as Veturina is concerned at present — assuming she wasn’t responsible — her husband died a natural death. Nothing and no one has suggested otherwise. It would be unreasonable to expect her to approve an enquiry even if she were completely innocent, and if we did hold one she’d have a perfect right to refuse her co-operation.’

‘I’ve told Quintus that, Hyperion being to all intents and purposes a client of mine, I would be prepared to bring a formal legal charge myself,’ Marcia said. ‘The drawback is that I would have to cite a specific person as the one responsible. Which of course in advance of a proper investigation would be a nonsense.’

‘Yeah. Yeah, right,’ I said. Bugger! This was not looking good.

‘So you see, Corvinus,’ — Libanius spread his hands — ‘we’re caught. No proof of murder — or no formal accusation — no investigation; no investigation, no proof of murder. Oh, yes: if Hyperion were to report the business with the medicine bottle officially, even now, I could take unilateral action myself. Unfortunately, in law that would immediately entail, ipso facto, at least the torture of the household’s slaves, and Hyperion will not accept this under any circumstances. Barring that, and given the Lady Marcia’s understandable scruples, I see no course of action but to leave things as they are.’

Shit. ‘So what you’re saying,’ I said, ‘is that you need some piece of evidence — some solid piece of evidence — besides the medicine bottle, that points to a murder.’

‘Yes. Until we have that then I’m afraid — ’

‘Excuse me, sir.’ Bathyllus butlered in from the direction of the lobby. ‘But there’s a messenger arrived to speak to Quintus Libanius.’