David Wishart - In at the Death

Bathyllus soft-shoed out and I helped myself to an apple and a few grapes from the table. Early morning, preferably the crack of dawn but I was no masochist, was the best time to catch Decimus Lippillus because he’d be at the Watch-house reading through the reports his deputy on the night-shift had left on his desk. Then over to Julian Square to check up if the loan-shark Publius Vestorius was back from Ostia, a talk — if he was available — with Papinius’s boss Laelius Balbus, and finally round to Soranus’s, ditto. I reckoned that with all these bases successfully covered I’d’ve done my duty by Natalis, and barring any surprises — which I didn’t expect — we could call it a wrap…

‘I’ve brought the dog, sir.’

I turned. Bathyllus was standing in the doorway with my portable breakfast in one hand and the other holding Placida’s lead. The brute was grinning at me.

Oh, gods. This I did not deserve. ‘You have what , Bathyllus?’

‘For its walk. The mistress was most insistent. She told me last night not to let you leave without it.’

Jupiter sodding Best and Greatest! ‘Listen, little guy,’ I said, ‘I have about as much intention of spending a second day in that brute’s dubious company as I have of tap-dancing naked up the Sacred Way. When Perilla wakes up you can tell her — ’

‘Tell me what, dear?’

She appeared in the doorway behind Bathyllus and gave me a bright smile. I goggled. Shit, this was a conspiracy: nothing, but nothing gets that lady out of bed before the sun’s properly up.

‘Ah…’ I said.

‘I have explained already, Marcus. Very clearly. I promised Sestia Calvina that we’d look after Placida properly, which means regular walks. And since you’re walking anyway then you may as well take her along. I’m sure she’s marvellous company, really.’

‘Lady, that thing is fucking hell on legs! I’d as soon walk a wolverine!’

‘Don’t exaggerate.’

‘Perilla…’

‘Besides, after yesterday’s little episode with Alcestis we can’t risk leaving her in the garden, can we? She’d have to be chained, which wouldn’t be fair. And she is getting used to you.’

I opened my mouth, then closed it again: when Perilla’s in this mood there’s no point in arguing, and where logic’s concerned you can forget it. Bugger.

Now I knew how Orestes must’ve felt when he was stuck with the Furies.

I held out my hand for the lead.

Sure enough, Lippillus was standing at his desk, reading over a wax tablet and chewing on an omelette roll of his own. He looked up when I came in…

‘What the hell is that?’

I sighed. ‘Rare Parthian coarse-haired hornless antelope? No. Mutant Numidian hamster? I don’t think so. Hyperactive, totally uncivilised Gallic fucking boarhound? Why, I do believe it is.’ I pulled up a stool and sat while Placida squatted and lolled her tongue at him. Jupiter, I was knackered. Caelian to Public Pond in just shy of twenty minutes. Someone should explain to canines the meaning of the word ‘walk’ and how it differed from, say, ‘bolt’. ‘And don’t, don’t ask about the bag-lady, the cheese-seller, the woman with the poodle or the cat on the flagpole.’

Lippillus was grinning. ‘You’re tetchy this morning, Corvinus. She yours? You’ve never exactly struck me as the dog-owning type.’

I shuddered and made the sign against bad omens: with my current run of luck Sestia Calvina over in Veii would be trampled to death by a freak runaway elephant and we’d be stuck with the brute forever. Not that I’d’ve thought too badly of the elephant, mind. ‘No, we’re just looking after her. At least it seems I am. You know the way Perilla’s chain of logic works.’

‘She’s a beauty. Aren’t you, girl?’ He reached over and ruffled Placida’s ears, which put the two of them practically eyeball to eyeball. There isn’t much of Flavonius Lippillus in vertical terms, and his no-clout name doesn’t do him any favours either with the pukkah Establishment, but you don’t get to be Watch commander for one of the toughest districts in Rome without a pretty good reason, and for once the broad-stripers in the City Prefect’s office had got it right. What Lippillus didn’t know about Watch work you could drop down a hole and forget.

‘Yeah,’ I said sourly. ‘She’s got a lovely nature. At least, that’s what they keep telling me.’

‘So why the visit? Not that you’re not always welcome.’

‘Do me a favour?’

‘Sure.’ He laid the tablet on the desk.

‘The name Sextus Papinius mean anything to you?’

‘Kid who threw himself out of a tenement window two or three days back?’

‘That’s him. You happen to have the details?’

‘Not as such. It’s not my patch, Corvinus. The tenement was across the line in Thirteen. Head of Old Ostia Road between the hill and the river.’

‘Yeah, I know that.’ Bugger. Well, I shouldn’t really have expected anything else: these guys don’t poach, and they’re very careful about treading on each others’ toes. ‘Still, anything you can give me would be appreciated.’

Lippillus was watching me carefully. ‘Why the interest?’ he said.

‘It’s probably nothing. You remember Minicius Natalis, the Greens boss? He’s an ex-client of the boy’s grandfather. He asked me to look into the death.’

‘Uh-huh.’ Lippillus sucked at a tooth, and his eyes didn’t waver. Then he said: ‘The Thirteenth’s Titus Mescinius’s patch. If you want to talk to him I can give you an introduction. How would that do?’

‘Great!’ I didn’t know Mescinius, and as a general rule Watch commanders aren’t too appreciative of sassy purple-stripers butting in. An introduction from Lippillus would go a long way towards pre-emptively smoothing any ruffled feathers. ‘He — ah — liable to be informative?’

‘He’s okay. No ball of fire, mind, but he’s straight as a die and he won’t hold out on you, so long as you don’t get up his nose too much. That I do not advise.’ He reached for a clean wax tablet and stylus, scribbled a sentence or two and handed it over. ‘There you are. You owe me one.’

‘Dinner tomorrow?’

‘Make it the day after, with fish. Marcina can’t cook fish worth a damn.’

‘You’ve got it. Come on, Placida. Heel.’ I stood up and turned to go.

‘Oh, and Corvinus?’

I turned back. ‘Yeah?’

‘Enjoy your walk.’

The Watch-house for the thirteenth region was on Old Ostia Road itself, and not far from where the tenement must be. There was a slave outside brushing down the steps.

I hauled on Placida’s lead and dug my heels in until she decided to stop. ‘Boss around, pal?’ I said. The chances were he would be: Decimus Lippillus didn’t spend much of his time behind his desk, but then Lippillus was the exception. Most Watch commanders preferred to leave the wearing out of sandal leather to their squaddies.

‘Yes, sir. In his office.’ The slave pointed through the open door. ‘Straight ahead of you.’

‘Thanks. Uh…you mind looking after this for me?’

Before he could answer I’d slipped him the leash and was past him. I didn’t glance back, even when I heard the scream.

The door gave onto a lobby with an unoccupied desk and another door behind it. I went up to it and knocked.

‘Come in.’

I did.

‘Yes?’

Well, we weren’t talking lean and mean here, anyway. He was a big lad, Titus Mescinius, with the proportions — and probably the blubber content — of a beached whale. He’d set down the stylus he was holding and was blinking at me suspiciously.

‘The name’s Marcus Valerius Corvinus,’ I said.

‘That so, now?’

Friendly as hell. ‘Ah…Decimus Lippillus over at Public Pond said you might be willing to talk to me about a suicide a couple of days back.’ I handed him Lippillus’s note.