David Wishart - Food for the Fishes

I’d been wondering that myself. Theories were one thing, but hard proof was another. ‘I don’t know,’ I said. ‘Go round and face him with it, I suppose. The main thing is the guy’s alibi, or lack of one. If I can push him on that then maybe we’ll get somewhere.’

‘That’s it, dear. Exert a little pressure. He’s bound to crack. That sort always do.’

Well, I wasn’t absolutely sure about that. Still, it was worth a try, especially now with what I’d got from Frontinus. Murena dying the same day Nerva signed the loan contract was just too pat, and the fact of the quarrel put the lid on it. ‘Where’s Perilla?’ I said.

‘Inside. But she’s coming with us. She was just leaving a message for you with Bathyllus in case you got back after we’d gone.’

I went up the villa steps and met Perilla coming through into the lobby from the atrium.

‘Oh, hello, Marcus,’ she said. ‘You’ve just caught us leaving. Or would you like to come to Neapolis too?’

I kissed her. ‘No thanks, lady. I’ve been half way there and back already this morning, and another couple of hours in a carriage would finish me. Besides, if the options on offer are Samnite armour and Mother’s shop-till-you-drop then I’ll pass.’

‘Hmm,’ Perilla said. ‘So what are you doing?’

‘I thought I’d take a walk down to the harbour, drop in at Aulus Nerva’s and do a bit of cage-rattling.’

She frowned. ‘Marcus, I wish you’d be less flippant. And more careful. You think Nerva is the killer, don’t you?’

‘Yeah. I’d put a fairly hefty bet on that.’

‘Then he’s a very dangerous man. He’s murdered twice, in cold blood, and I doubt if he’d have any compunctions about murdering again. I do not want to come back from a shopping trip in Neapolis to find you laid out in the atrium with a pair of coins over your eyes.’

I laughed. ‘Don’t worry, lady. I’m not booked for the urn yet. Nerva wouldn’t dare touch me.’

‘I wish I was as sure of that as you are, dear. But be careful, anyway. Now I really must be going. We’re late enough starting as it is.’

I waved them off and set out for Nerva’s.

Actually, I didn’t go straight there. I’d got one loose end to tie up first, and checking Ligurius’s alibi wouldn’t take me all that far out of my way. The guy himself wouldn’t be at home, sure, but that was all to the good: if he was the killer (and it was still possible; I was keeping an open mind on that one, even with Nerva firmly in my sights) and he had been fibbing then he sure as hell wasn’t going to change his story for the asking now, not when he was home and dry with Chlorus safely in his urn. I’d just have to hope he had nosey neighbours.

The first problem was finding the place. ‘Not a salubrious area’, Catia had said, and even allowing for the lady’s snobbishness she wasn’t far wrong. That part of Baiae was a maze of tiny streets and seriously-run-down property, as bad as the Subura in Rome, easy. Also, because trades like the fuller’s tend to bunch for obvious reasons — if you’ve ever smelt a fuller’s vat you’ll know what at least one of these is — even when I’d got the right bit I was spoilt for choice.

Mind you, Baiae’s not Rome, and we were working on a much smaller scale here. I only had to ask at three possible addresses before I struck lucky with the fourth. It was a one-man business, and the guy stripped to his loincloth and treading a small vatful of half-submerged mantles was evidently the owner, proprietor and staff.

‘Uh…excuse me, pal,’ I said.

The guy stopped treading. ‘Yeah?’

‘Someone called Ligurius live here?’

He grinned. ‘Ligurius? Sure. Flat above. He won’t be around at the moment, though. Not until after sunset. Works over at that fancy fish farm on the Bauli road.’

I was trying hard not to breathe: fullers like their piss well-matured, and I reckoned this guy was really choosy where the selection of his raw materials was concerned. ‘Yeah, I know that,’ I said. ‘I didn’t want to see him personally. I just wanted some information.’

The grin vanished. ‘What kind of information?’

I took out my purse and extracted a couple of silver pieces. His eyes went to them, but he was still frowning.

‘You friendly with him at all?’ I said.

‘We split a jug of wine together in the evenings, sometimes. He’s on his own, like me, and he’s a good neighbour.’

‘You actually live here? On site, as it were?’

‘Where else would I live?’ He jerked his chin towards the shop. ‘There’s a back room. Big enough for me, I’m not married either.’ Yeah, well; I could see — or rather smell — why that might be. Still, there were worse trades, and fullers’ wives tended to be ladies with pre-cauterised sinuses. ‘Most of the time, though, I’m out here in the fresh air.’

Great. Perfect, in fact. Maybe this was going to work after all. ‘Uh…he have many visitors?’

That got me a glare. The guy was looking really suspicious now. ‘Look,’ he said. ‘What’s this about? If you’re some sort of town officer you can keep your money and clear off. Gaius Ligurius never done nothing illegal in his life. He’s not the type.’

‘No hassle, friend,’ I said. ‘Absolutely no hassle. And this isn’t official, I’m just checking up on something he told me. I was just wondering if you remembered a particular visitor, in the evening, six days back.’ I described Chlorus.

The frown vanished and his face split into a gap-toothed grin. ‘Scowler? The boss’s son, Chlorus? Sure. He comes round a lot on fish farm business. I do his mantles, sometimes. Yes, he was here, no problem.’

‘You’re certain?’

‘Sure I am. Something about a chancer in Pompeii ordering fish and not paying for them. Ligurius told me later, after he’d gone and we got the wine out.’ He spat neatly to one side. ‘These Pompeian buggers, I wouldn’t trust them that far.’

Well, there went that theory. Still, it’d been an outside chance, at best. And at least it finally cleared Ligurius from the list. Which left Nerva.

I thanked the guy, left the two silver pieces on a convenient stone, and pushed off back towards the centre of town.

Nerva was out.

‘He’s in Bauli, sir,’ the door-slave said. ‘He left early this morning and he won’t be back until late this afternoon.’

Bugger. I should’ve gone to Neapolis after all. I’d’ve had no intention of sitting in while Priscus and his friend discussed the finer points of Samnite cuirass fastenings, mind, let alone tagging along with Mother and Perilla on their shopping spree (I’d done that once before, and it still gave me nightmares. Forget being strapped to an ever-revolving wheel or suffering torments of hunger and thirst: hell is making up a third to two women shopping); but Neapolis had some pretty good wineshops in the tree-lined streets that led off the main square, and I could quite happily have parked myself in one of them while the ladies bought up half Campania. Or didn’t, rather. That’s what really gets me about women shopping. Me, if I want something I go to a shop and buy it, finish. Women can quite happily spend hours drifting from shop to shop and end up buying something in maybe one out of every fifteen. Crazy.

‘Fine,’ I said to the slave. ‘It doesn’t matter. Thanks, pal.’ I turned to leave.

‘Valerius Corvinus, sir!

‘Yeah?’ I turned back.

‘Perhaps you don’t know. Decimus Tattius was found dead this morning.’

My guts went cold. ‘What?’

‘Yes, sir. Stabbed through the heart. At least, that’s what the slave who brought the message said. The Lady Penelope Licinia only sent to say he was dead.’