David Wishart - In at the Death

I walked over. ‘Uh…Lucia Albucilla?’ I said. Her head whipped round; I doubt if she’d even heard me coming. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.’

‘That’s all right. I was miles away.’ She smiled, or tried to. The face matched the jawline: handsome rather than beautiful, with the features looking like they’d been hacked out of marble. She was the colour of marble, too; a dead, pasty white that together with her makeup left her looking like a doll. I reckoned Perilla’s estimate of early thirties for her age was well on the low side. By present showing she could’ve been forty, easy.

‘My name’s Valerius Corvinus,’ I said. ‘I was wondering if I could talk to you about Sextus Papinius.’

There it was again: the same flicker of the eyes I’d got with Soranus. She turned her head away. ‘I don’t think I know a — ’ she began.

‘Come on, lady!’ We were getting Looks now from the other punters, and I lowered my voice. ‘Of course you do! The kid who killed himself five days back.’

‘Oh, that — ’ She stopped and took a deep breath, then turned back to face me. The smile hadn’t shifted, but it looked ghastly. ‘Yes. Sextus. I’m sorry, how silly of me. Forgive me. It is a little close in here, isn’t it?’

It wasn’t, particularly, that I’d noticed: this was October, after all, and the window was open. Still, I wasn’t going to argue: the punters’ Looks had moved up a notch to Glares, and the next thing that’d happen would be a visit from the library’s tame satyr. That I could really do without, especially in the guy’s present mood. ‘You want to talk outside?’ I said.

‘Yes. Yes, perhaps it would be better.’ She rolled up the book, fastened its laces — I noticed that her hands were shaking —, laid it on the table beside her and stood up. ‘We can go into the garden.’

She led the way and I followed her in silence. The garden was through the portico that led off the entrance hall, in an angle between the library building and the temple itself: a careful arrangement of formal walks and flower-beds with more statuary than you could shake a stick at. Apart from an old guy fast asleep — or possibly dead — on a bench in the corner it was empty. We found another bench under a plane tree and sat down. The lady was a better colour now, but she was still nervous as a cat.

‘I was so sorry to hear about Sextus,’ she said. ‘He was a lovely boy.’

‘Yeah. So everyone tells me.’ I wasn’t quite sure how to play this. From what Cluvia had said, and from the fact that she was a friend of Mucius Soranus’s, I’d been expecting a sort of femme fatale. I could still have got one, mind, because in her own way the lady was a looker, but if she was she was the well-groomed polished kind that you see at all the best dinner parties.

‘You didn’t know him, then?’ she said.

‘No. I’m just looking into his death. As a favour to his mother and Titus Natalis of the Greens.’

That got me another flicker, but she’d obviously got herself in hand and if I hadn’t been looking for it I might not’ve noticed. ‘Really?’ she said. ‘I wouldn’t have thought that there was anything to — ’

‘His ex-girlfriend Cluvia said that you, uh, knew him pretty well latterly. Through a mutual friend, Mucius Soranus.’

Her hand was resting on the arm of the bench. The fingers tightened momentarily. ‘Cluvia is a — ’ She bit back on the word, but not soon enough for me to miss the sudden hardness of tone that suggested there was steel under the polish. Then it was gone and she tried another smile. ‘I think as an informant Cluvia may have given you completely the wrong impression about our relationship. I liked Sextus, but he was an acquaintance rather than a friend, and he was certainly not — as your tone seems to imply — a lover. Not even in the most minor sense. If you want an explanation for her attitude, I can only suggest jealousy.’

‘Is that so, now?’ I kept my voice non-committal.

‘Yes, it is. Sextus, I know from certain remarks he made, was becoming tired of her, and obviously she was looking for a scapegoat. I happened to be the one she chose. As far as Soranus is concerned, the situation is similar. He’s quite definitely an acquaintance, not a friend.’ She stood up. ‘Now, if that’s clear I’m afraid I can’t help you any further.’

I didn’t move. ‘So if Papinius was an acquaintance,’ I said, ‘what sort of acquaintance was he?’

‘I’m sorry. I don’t understand.’

The hell with tact. ‘He was a nineteen-year-old kid, lady, and you’re almost old enough to be his mother. What did you have in common? There must’ve been something.’

Silence. Then she said: ‘I…really, Corvinus, I see no point in continuing this conversation. I’m sorry you’ve had a wasted journey, but I honestly can’t help you further.’ She turned away, just as another woman came hurrying through the portico.

‘Lucia!’ Raised voice; obviously agitated. ‘Thank Juno I’ve caught you! Have you — ?’

Then the woman saw me, and she stopped dead. Her hand flew to her mouth, covering it, and her eyes widened in a shock that was almost comic. I glanced back at Albucilla. I couldn’t see her face — it was turned towards the new arrival — but her whole body froze. The woman came towards us, more slowly now; she’d almost been running to begin with. There was something familiar about her, but I couldn’t recall a name offhand.

Albucilla turned back to me. ‘It was nice meeting you, Valerius Corvinus,’ she said quickly. ‘Do tell Sextus’s mother how sorry I am about her son’s death.’

‘Yeah,’ I said. ‘Yeah, I’ll do that.’

I nodded to the second woman — Jupiter, what was her name again? — and walked across to the portico. Just before I went inside, I looked back. The two were standing side by side, staring at me.

The librarian was at his desk, talking to a late-middle-aged purple-striper with an obvious toupe. I went over.

‘Ah…excuse me,’ I said.

‘Yes?’ The satyr wasn’t exactly friendly. To put it mildly. Nor, by some sort of osmosis, was the other guy. The two of them were glaring like I’d just propositioned them.

‘That lady who’s just gone out into the garden. You mind telling me her name?’

‘Acutia. Although, my dear sir, I can’t see that it’s any business of yours.’

Acutia! Yeah, of course she was. I remembered her now; it’d been years and she’d aged, but she still had that mousey look about her. ‘Did you tell her I was there?’

‘Certainly not! Why should I? She asked to speak to the Lady Albucilla and I so directed her.’ He drew himself up again. ‘And now perhaps you’ll have the grace to explain why — ’

But I was already heading for the exit.

Shit. What was going on?

I had a good hour to kill, maybe two, before the Senate meeting finished. That suited me fine, because I had a lot of hard thinking to do. Over to Renatius’s on Iugarius, then, for a seat and a half jug of wine.

Early as it was, there were two or three punters at the bar, but I didn’t know any of them, so I just nodded.

‘Haven’t seen you for a while, Corvinus.’ Renatius was cutting up greens for the lunchtime salad option. ‘The usual, is it?’

‘Yeah.’ I took the coins from my purse and laid them on the counter while he filled the half jug with Spoletan. I eyed the greens. ‘Uh…incidentally. You ever hear of a thing called a cardoon?’

‘Course I have. It’s a kind of artichoke.’

‘Right. Right. Just checking.’

He brought the jug over and pulled a cup down from the rack. ‘You want anything with that? Cheese? Olives? Sausage?’