David Wishart - In at the Death

‘Actually no,’ I said. ‘I wanted to ask you about one of your customers. A young guy by the name of Sextus Papinius. He committed suicide three days ago.’

Vestorius’s smile froze. ‘I beg your pardon?’

‘I’m representing his mother Rupilia and Minicius Natalis, the faction-master of the Greens. They want to know why he did it.’ I took another swallow of wine. ‘Story I’ve been told is that he’d taken out a sizeable loan from you some time previous. Can you confirm that? Just for the record.’

The guy was staring at me. He cleared his throat. Finally, he said: ‘Yes, of course I can confirm it. The loan was indeed made.’

‘And how sizeable was sizeable?’

‘You mean you don’t already know?’ I didn’t answer. ‘Well, under the circumstances I think I can…the sum was fifty thousand sesterces.’

I blinked: when I’d said to Perilla that Natalis could use my fee to pay back the loan I’d assumed he’d have some change back on the deal. ‘How much?’

Vestorius stroked the emerald ring on his little finger. ‘Yes, indeed,’ he said. ‘A very respectable amount. Very respectable. But then the young man seemed reliable, from a good family. And if there is one thing I pride myself on it’s my ability to judge people.’

Right. Sure. Only I’d bet, personally, that the smug bugger’s assessment of Papinius’s risk-rating hadn’t stopped him from adding a fairly swingeing interest clause to the contract. Quite the reverse. ‘When exactly did he borrow the money?’ I said. ‘If you don’t mind telling me?’

‘Not at all. It was just under a month ago.’

‘Did he happen to say what he needed it for?’

‘Valerius Corvinus, it is not my practice to discuss — ’

‘Come on, pal! I told you, the kid’s dead and his family and friends want to know why he killed himself. This is no time for professional ethics. If that’s the phrase here.’

That got me a long cool look, but finally Vestorius said: ‘Very well. The answer to your question is no. Papinius didn’t volunteer the information, nor did I enquire. Why should I? It was none of my business.’

‘Did he offer any security?’

The guy hesitated. ‘As I said, and as you know, he came from a good family — a consular family, on his father’s side — and he’d just embarked on what would no doubt have been a long and successful political career. Under these circumstances, a security pledge is a mere formality.’

Uh-huh; in other words, for swingeing interest read gutting: the kid must’ve been desperate. But fifty thousand! That was serious gravy for a nineteen-year-old’s gambling debts. ‘He was over the legal age, his mother didn’t know anything about the transaction, and as far as I know he’d no private source of income,’ I said carefully. ‘So now he’s dead how do you reclaim the principal?’

Vestorius looked fazed for a moment, then he smiled. Now we were face to face at close range I noticed that two of his front teeth were wired-in gold, and I wondered if some customer in the past had knocked out the originals for him. If so I wouldn’t’ve blamed them. ‘Oh, that isn’t a problem,’ he said.

‘Is that so, now? And why not?’

‘Because the loan was repaid four days ago.’

I stared at him, wine forgotten. ‘It was what?’

‘Yes, indeed.’

‘Who the hell by?’

‘By young Papinius himself, of course. In cash.’

‘The whole boiling? All fifty thousand?’

‘Plus the interest. Sixty thousand sesterces in total.’ Vestorius was still smiling. ‘I was as surprised as you seem to be, naturally — I’d understood it was to be a long-term arrangement — but that was his decision. And quite acceptable on my part.’

‘Where the fuck did a kid like that get sixty thousand silver pieces cash in hand?’

He shrugged. ‘Again, I didn’t ask. It — ’

‘- was none of your business. Got it.’ I’d had enough of this bastard. I stood up; Placita, too. ‘Thanks for your time, pal. Have a nice day.’

‘You also, Valerius Corvinus. And I’m sorry to hear about young Papinius’s death.’ He reached for the abacus.

‘Yeah. Sure you are,’ I said. Sixty thousand sesterces. This was getting complicated. ‘Come on, Placida. Heel.’

But she’d ambled off into the far corner and was arching her back and straining. Vestorius’s eyes widened in disbelief as she deposited the evil-smelling remains of two pounds of tripe, six chops, three pork knuckles, the ox liver and a bowl of dripping. Plus the sausages…

Oh, joy!

I grinned and left Vestorius to his cleaning up. Maybe I could warm to Placida after all.

Okay; so what next? I might as well follow the original plan and drop in on Papinius’s boss, the aedile Laelius Balbus. If he was in. In any case, the aediles’ office wasn’t far, just the other side of Market Square.

Where the fuck did an impecunious teenager like Sextus Papinius get his hands on sixty thousand sesterces? In cash and at short notice, too. Not from his mother, that was clear: even if she’d been covering up for some reason and lying six ways from nothing I’d bet the lady didn’t have that sort of loose change. The same went for Natalis as a source: he’d have the cash to hand, sure, no problem there, but he would’ve told me if he’d given it to Papinius, because money wasn’t something Natalis was coy about. The father Allenius was an obvious possibility, at least on the face of it, but I’d reckon from his past track record paying off an estranged son’s debts to that tune just wasn’t on; getting him his job with the fire commission had been favour enough.

Getting him his job with the…

I slowed down. Oh, shit. Oh, no.

You’d be surprised what some chancers’ll try to get away with when there’s an imperial-backed compensation scheme up and running.

Atratinus had said that. But surely Papinius wouldn’t’ve been such a bloody fool. And he just wasn’t the type.

Or was he? It would explain how he came by the sixty thousand, certainly. And, given certain circumstances, it would explain the suicide, too.

Bugger. Still, theorising could wait until I’d talked to Balbus. Not that I’d take Placida in with me this time: public officials get very intense about boarhounds crapping on the government’s tiling.

One curious thing. As I left Julian Square I had the distinct feeling that I was being followed; nothing definite, and the few times I turned round didn’t provide any evidence for it. Even so, the feeling was there, and it wouldn’t go away.

I was lucky: the aedile was in and free to see me. He was a big man my age, with heavy eyebrows and an even heavier gut that projected well over the desk as he stood up to shake hands.

‘I’ve been expecting you, Corvinus,’ he said. ‘Atratinus said you’d had a chat with him over lunch yesterday, and I thought I might be next. Have a seat.’

The visitor’s chair had ivory inlay and small golden birds on the pillars of the back-piece. It went well with the rest of the office’s furnishings, which were a lot more upmarket than you usually find in a public-sector room. Still, with four deputy imperials fronting the commission that wasn’t surprising.

‘Now.’ Balbus settled into his own chair. ‘What can I tell you about young Papinius? Not much more than you’ve already heard, probably. He was with us practically from the start, he was good at his job and seemed to enjoy it, got on well with his colleagues and his superiors. A very, very likeable and promising young man.’ He spread his hands. ‘That’s about all, I’m afraid. His death — and especially the fact that it was self-inflicted — was a tragedy.’

‘You’ve no idea why he should want to kill himself?’ I said.