David Wishart - Food for the Fishes

‘Ah…what events would these be, now?’ I said.

‘Perhaps you’d better ask Aulus.’

I looked at Nerva and got a stare blank as a marble statue’s. I waited. Nothing. Well, we’d get there eventually, no doubt. I turned back to Gellia. ‘And you didn’t realise he hadn’t come in again?’ I said.

‘No. I went off to bed shortly afterwards. We have separate bedrooms.’

‘What about the house slaves?’

‘Lucius was a late owl. He enjoyed the dark. Sometimes he’d take a walk along the beach before he went to bed, and the slaves were ordered not to wait up. He was very considerate that way.’

‘No one else missed him?’ I looked at Chlorus.

‘None of us lives here, Corvinus,’ he said. ‘We didn’t know Father was dead until Gellia’ — he smiled at her- ‘sent to tell us the next day. She was the only one present at the time of Father’s death.’ He paused, and then said carefully: ‘Of the family, that is.’

Gellia shot him a vicious look but said nothing.

‘There was someone else in the house?’ I said.

‘No, of course there wasn’t,’ Gellia said tightly, her eyes still on Chlorus. ‘Barring the slaves.’

‘You’re sure?’ Nerva muttered. ‘No doctors, for instance?’

The lady’s glare flashed back to him, but this time she didn’t speak.

We were on sensitive ground here. The reason was obvious: Chlorus and company, or he and his brother at least, because it would seem that Penelope was staying out of things, suspected that their stepmother was having an affair with this doctor and that the pair of them were responsible for Murena’s death. Not all that likely, on the face of it, not from what I’d heard so far, anyway: common sense said Gellia would hardly invite a lover round for a nightcap with her husband at home, especially if she intended to stiff Murena before they turned in for the night. On the other hand, this was Baiae, and morals were looser in the fleshpots of the south. Common sense, in Baiae, didn’t always feature. The murder aside, it was a big villa. I wondered how far apart their separate bedrooms were and what were the chances of interruption.

There again, there was a lot of mud-slinging going on here. Far too much for on-the-spot assessment.

‘Fine,’ I said. Let’s get back to something we knew about. Or at least something there didn’t seem to be much argument over. I’d given Nerva his chance, and if he didn’t want to take it then that was up to him. ‘So Murena was, ah, “upset” when he went down to the fish farm? By events earlier in the day?’

Silence; long silence. Chlorus coughed and glanced sideways at Nerva. If looks could kill then the one Nerva was giving Gellia would’ve fried the lady to a crisp.

‘Yes,’ she said. She looked back at Nerva and smiled. Then she said slowly: ‘He had had a terrible argument with Aulus, you see. Just before dinner. Isn’t that so, Aulus?’

Nerva sat up straight on his couch and tried a smile of his own. It didn’t work. ‘It wasn’t an argument,’ he said. ‘I was just — ’

‘It sounded like an argument to me. I could hear the raised voices all the way from the study,’ Gellia said. ‘Gambling debts again, was it? Or one of your business schemes? Lucius wouldn’t tell me.’

Nerva had coloured up. ‘What we talked about had nothing to do with my father’s death!’

‘Possibly not.’ Gellia’s eyes came back to me, and she smiled again. ‘However, the fact remains that you were closeted with him for a good half hour and you parted on most unpleasant terms. That’s quite enough for me.’

‘I was gone long before he was killed!’

‘Of course you were.’ Gellia sniffed. ‘In such a temper, too. I was almost frightened.’

Nerva turned away. I heard him murmur ‘Bitch!’ into his winecup.

‘Of course, Corvinus,’ Gellia carried on sweetly, ignoring him, ‘Aulus isn’t the only one in the family to have money problems. Titus here has a daughter getting married in three months’ time, little Hebe, quite a society affair, and now with poor Lucius dead as the eldest son he can easily afford to — ’

‘That’s enough!’ Chlorus was on his feet. Cold fish or not, he was as angry as his brother. ‘Gellia, you’ll stop this…this ridiculous — !’

‘There’s no need to get excited, dear. I’m just apprising Valerius Corvinus of the facts.’

‘True enough, Titus,’ Nerva said. ‘Dowries come pretty expensive. Especially in Hebe’s case.’

I looked from one to the other. Gods. Forget a three-way ball game; I felt like I was watching one of those free-for-alls in the arena where the aim is to end up still breathing when everyone else is a bloodied corpse on the sand. We’d got way beyond ordinary family sniping and backbiting here, and in nothing flat, what was more. It was almost as if the three of them had had their knives ready-whetted, and just been waiting for the chance to plant them. The accusations might be veiled, sure, for the most part, but they were accusations none the less, made deliberately with one eye on me and with a cool viciousness that had nothing to do with simple point-scoring. This was for real.

The only member of the group who didn’t seem to be playing the game was dumpy Penelope. She hadn’t spoken or even moved since Chlorus had introduced her, and she’d been watching the proceedings from her chair on the sidelines with an expression of complete contempt. Now she turned to me.

‘As you can see, Corvinus,’ she said mildly, ‘we’re a very close, loving family. We all thought the world of Father, and his death has come as a terrible shock to all of us.’

That stopped the other three in mid-flow, and they all turned to glare at her. Nerva set down his cup.

‘You hated his guts,’ he said brutally.

‘Yes.’ She nodded. Her tone didn’t change. It was completely matter-of-fact. ‘Yes, you’re quite right. I hated him and I always will. In that I’m no different from the rest of you, but at least I admit it. Whoever killed Father he only got what he deserved. I’m glad he’s dead and I hope he rots in hell.’

‘Penelope!’ Gellia snapped. ‘You’ll take that back!’

‘No I won’t.’ She stood up. ‘Now if you’ll excuse me I’ll be getting off home. A pleasure to have met you, Valerius Corvinus.’

She left. We stared at each other in silence. Finally, Chlorus cleared his throat. ‘You’ll have to forgive my sister,’ he said. ‘She’s…naturally, she’s upset, very upset by Father’s death, as we all are. And I hope I don’t need to tell you that there’s absolutely no truth in — ’

‘Right.’ I stood up too. The hell with more questions; my brain was whirling, I felt faintly nauseated, and all I wanted to do was get away and think. ‘Well, maybe I should be going myself. Unless there’s anything else you can tell me?’ I hoped not; I really hoped not: I’d had enough of this vicious shower to last me until the Winter Festival, and then some.

Their relief was palpable; obviously, after Penelope’s little outburst, a truce was in progress. Nerva grunted, picked up his wine-cup and took a hefty swig.

‘That’s all, Corvinus,’ he said.

‘Yes. I’m sorry.’ Gellia gave me a brittle, company-manners smile, as if the four-way spat had never been. ‘I’m afraid we know little more about Titus’s death than you do. If we can help in any way in future, of course, then please don’t hesitate to ask.’

Nerva grunted again.

‘I’ll show you out,’ Chlorus said.

Bathyllus was outside the door when I got back, doing something to the knocker involving a small brush and the contents of a pottery jar. He turned round, brush poised.