David Wishart - Illegally Dead

‘“Lucky” Maecilius’s son? Bucca?’

‘You’ve heard of him?’

I glanced at Clarus. ‘Yeah. Yeah, I have,’ I said. Shit; the case was complicating nicely here. ‘Okay. Thanks, Hyperion. You’ve been a great help. You want to talk to Libanius or shall I?’

‘Both of us together, perhaps. There’s nothing else I — we — can do here at present in any case.’

No. I looked down, again, at the dead, once-pretty face. No, there wasn’t, at that. Ah, well.

The Bavius place was less than half a mile outside town in the direction of Bovillae, but we took it easy because Marilla insisted on coming too and Corydon, her mule, wasn’t a fast mover.

‘Where did you learn all that stuff, Clarus?’ I said as we cleared the town gate. ‘About dead bodies, I mean?’

‘Books.’ He shrugged. ‘And, like I said, observation. I’ve helped my father out since I was eight. A doctor sees a lot of corpses, one way and another. Besides, since I’ve known Marilla and she first told me about you examining bodies when I have the chance has become a sort of hobby.’

A hobby! Shit! When I was his age my hobbies had been simple, straightforward things like booze, girls and gambling. I just didn’t understand kids these days. I didn’t like the thought that I’d been partly responsible for getting him started, either.

‘Clarus says doctors should be called in automatically when there’s a murder, Corvinus,’ Marilla said. ‘It’s silly that they aren’t.’

‘You mean they should be allowed to cut up the corpse as a matter of course?’

‘Not just that, but why not?’ Clarus glanced across at me. ‘Like my father said, a body’s only dead meat, not a person any more. And an internal examination could answer questions that can’t be answered otherwise.’

Jupiter! I felt my gorge rise. ‘You seriously believe that? That a corpse is nothing but dead meat?’

‘What else? If I was murdered I’d want the murderer found, and if that meant having my body cut open when I was finished with it then fine. Wouldn’t you?’

I shook my head. Doctors — however old they were — were a different species, and like I say they were one I didn’t understand at all. ‘Uh-uh. Not me.’

‘Have you heard of Herophilus and Erasistratus?’

‘Erasistratus the brain guy?’

‘You have heard of him?’ Clarus grinned. ‘I’m impressed.’

‘Only because another doctor I talked with recently mentioned the name. He was into vivisection, right? Condemned criminals. Opening them up, seeing what made them tick while they were still alive.’ I jerked at my mare’s rein. ‘I’m sorry, pal, but you can keep that.’

‘Agreed, but the principle’s sound. And at least there was a point to it, a reason. Between them over fifty-odd years Herophilus and Erasistratus advanced our knowledge of how the body works more than anything or anyone in the three hundred years since. That was because in those days doctors were allowed to investigate a corpse scientifically at first hand. Corvinus, we could learn so much! Not just about how someone died, although there is that, but how we might prevent someone from dying. It’s all such a bloody waste!’

I glanced at him. Yeah, well: I couldn’t exactly sympathise with his opinion, let alone share it, but I could see where he was coming from. It still made the hairs on the back of my neck crawl, though. We finished the rest of the ride in silence.

‘That’s the Bavius farm up ahead,’ Marilla said at last. ‘And that’ — she pointed further along the road to a set of gates on the left — ‘is Hostilius’s villa.’

Uh-huh: no more than a couple of hundred yards. If the kid had been hiding out — and my guess was that that’s what he’d been doing there — then it couldn’t’ve been more convenient. We rode up the short dirt track to the house and parked the horses by the watering-trough.

The front door was locked and barred, but there was an outhouse to the left.

‘There’s the well,’ Clarus said.

We went over. Like Libanius had said, it was pretty basic: just a hole surrounded by a low wall no more than a foot high in places, with a wooden cover lying to one side and a bucket on a rope tied to a stake.

‘Okay,’ I said to Clarus. ‘You’re the expert. All yours.’

Clarus peered down the hole. ‘Not much of a drop,’ he said. ‘And clear all the way down. He couldn’t’ve got that head wound falling down there.’

I took a look for myself. ‘Yeah, right,’ I said. ‘Good place to hide a body, though. The guys who found him must’ve had a hell of a job getting him out. Let’s check the outhouse.’

There wasn’t much to see there, either: a pen for a horse or a mule, or maybe a cow, with an empty manger and a pile of old bedding straw, plus a jumble of odds and ends in the corner next to the door. I scuffed through the straw and found a string bag with half of a loaf of bread, a small empty wine-flask, an onion and two or three dried figs inside. Well, apart from the goodies in his belt-pouch the guy hadn’t taken all that much with him.

Clarus had been searching through the pile of junk in the corner. He pulled out a rusty gate-bolt, two feet long and the thickness of my little finger, and examined at it carefully.

‘Have a look at this, Corvinus,’ he said, and held it out by the straight end.

‘That what did the job?’ I said.

‘Yes.’

No could have been; a straight yes. Still, I was beginning to have a serious regard for his judgment. ‘How do you know?’ I said.

‘Look at the part just short of the bend. Don’t touch, just look closely. You see?’

Yeah, I did: there was a sticky crust half a hand’s-breadth in length, with some fairish hairs embedded in it. I whistled. ‘Well done, pal,’ I said. ‘I’m impressed.’

‘It had to be something like that. So we don’t actually need Dad to confirm that it was murder after all. Also, you see the way there’s straw scattered between here and the door? Outside, too. And that bit’ — he picked up a wadded scrap and held it out — ‘has blood on it. He must’ve dragged the corpse to the well on its back.’

‘You stiff the boy yourself?’

He grinned. ‘I’m sorry, Corvinus, I’m just showing off. This is the first time I’ve had a chance to do this for real.’

‘Don’t apologise. There’s nothing wrong with showing off, and for a beginner you’re doing pretty well.’ Pretty well? Shit; the kid just had to meet Decimus Lippillus of the Public Pond Watch! Lippillus would be as gobsmacked as I was. ‘Uh…you said “he”. You’re sure the murderer was a man, then?’

‘Not absolutely sure, no, but that’s the likelihood. It would’ve taken real force to cause that much damage with this.’ He held up the gate-bolt. ‘She’d have to be a bloody strong woman. Also — ’ He thought for a moment. ‘No. I’ll show you. Marilla, you want to help?’

The Princess had been standing in the doorway, watching and listening. ‘What with?’ she said.

‘Just come over here. Stand in front of me.’ She did. Clarus lifted the gate-bolt and brought it down gently until it rested against the top of her head. My balls shrank. ‘You see, Corvinus?’

‘Uh, Clarus — ’

‘Cosmus was about Marilla’s height, more or less. I’m three or four inches taller. Unless he was holding his head back’ — with his other hand, Clarus lifted Marilla’s chin while keeping the gate-bolt where it was — ‘or kneeling down, someone my height or shorter would’ve caused a wound further down towards the neck. And if he was kneeling’ — he pushed Marilla onto her knees — ‘then the wound would almost certainly’ve been further up, on the top of the head itself, not down and to the side.’