David Wishart - Solid Citizens

Yeah; that was more or less what Novius had told me. Even so …

‘Even so,’ I said aloud, ‘the result’s been that his brother inherits the property. Which, naturally, would now include your mistress’s estate as well.’

‘Indeed.’

‘He must’ve known that would happen, and the two of them had no time for each other. Your master, so Lucius tells me, had even cancelled his allowance recently. Yet he deliberately let things slide, meaning his brother gets the whole boiling after all, both his money and his late wife’s. I’m sorry, pal, but to me that doesn’t make any sort of sense.’

Anthus hesitated again. ‘May I speak freely? Far more freely than I have a right to do?’

‘Sure. Go ahead.’

‘It’s only an idea that I have. I’ve nothing to base it on, and certainly nothing the master ever said to me, or in my presence, confirms it. Quite the opposite. But I did serve him all my working life, and I knew him as well as it was possible for any man. I truly think that Quintus Caesius wanted his brother to inherit. Certainly should the mistress predecease him, which as I said was more than likely.’

He’d fazed me. ‘Uh … come again, pal?’ I said.

‘It may be difficult to believe, sir. But personally I’m convinced it’s the absolute truth. The master put off making a will deliberately so that if he died first then everything would go to Lucius.’

‘Anthus, that makes no sense either! If he’d wanted the guy to be his heir beyond any legal doubt he’d have written a will to that effect. It’d be simple enough.’

The major-domo shook his head. ‘No, sir. Quintus Caesius would never, ever have done that, not under any circumstances. You misunderstand.’ He smiled. ‘Frankly, I’m not sure I understand myself, and it’s difficult even to put into words. You didn’t know the master, so of course what I’m saying wouldn’t make sense to you, but trust me it does. Despite what he said to anyone, me and the mistress included, I’m convinced that he felt responsible for his brother.’

‘Responsible?’

‘For how he’d turned out, how he led his life. I hesitate to use the words “guilt” and “atonement”, but I must. Although please keep in mind that he had — and knew he had — absolutely nothing concrete to feel guilty about or atone for. That’s just the point.’

‘I’m sorry,’ I said. ‘You’ve lost me completely.’

‘Perhaps it’s the difference between active and passive action, sir, if there is such a term. Believe me: the master disliked and despised his brother, completely and utterly. There’s absolutely no doubt about that. He was also, in many ways, a hard-minded man, and as such had no desire to make things easy for him while he himself was alive. Quite the contrary, as his decision to terminate the allowance shows. On the other hand, if he could make amends simply by doing nothing , taking no action whatsoever, and leaving things to fate, then that was a different thing. Or perhaps he considered it as such.’ He paused. ‘I’m sorry, sir, I know I’m not expressing myself clearly, but it’s the best I can do. Perhaps it’s nonsense after all.’

‘No,’ I said slowly. ‘Cock-eyed, sure, but not nonsense.’ Leaving things to fate . Yeah, that was one way of putting it. Me, given what was at stake, I’d rather go for tempting fate where Brother Lucius was concerned. ‘His father’s will. The one that disinherited Lucius. You know about that?’

‘Of course.’

‘It was, uh, on the level, then?’

He frowned. ‘I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean.’

‘The old guy — Marcus Caesius, senior — he actually made it?’

‘Naturally, he did.’

‘You’re sure?’

‘I never saw the actual document, sir, but the old master certainly intended to disinherit his son when he was in the process of writing it. I heard him say so myself. And it was formally witnessed.’

Damn. ‘Who by? Can you remember?’

‘Two of his business associates. Gaius Tucca and Lucius Ampudius.’

‘They still around?’

‘Tucca, no, sir. He died some five years ago. But Ampudius is still alive.’

‘Where would I find him?’

‘His house is up by the Alban Lake Gate, on the public baths side.’

Well, that was handy, at least. I could fit him in along with Baebius. ‘Fine. Thanks, pal. I think that’s about all for the moment.’ I turned to go. ‘No, it isn’t. You know a guy called Quintus Baebius?’

‘Oh, yes. But by name only. He’s never set foot in the house, nor had the master in his, although he often talked about him. Not in complimentary terms. They were rival collectors — I think I told you about the master’s hobby? I’m afraid I know no more about him than that.’

‘I was told they had a head-to-head over buying a figurine two months back, and that Baebius lost out. That right?’

Anthus nodded. ‘Perfectly correct, sir. A very fine Hellenistic bronze of a runner removing a thorn from his foot.’

‘You think I could see it?’

‘Of course. It’s in the study. If you’d like to come through?’

I followed him. He opened the door and went over to one of the display shelves, then stopped.

‘Something wrong?’ I said.

He was looking blank. ‘Now that is very curious. Very curious indeed. It isn’t there.’

‘ What? ’

He pointed to an empty space on the shelf. ‘That’s where it was, sir. But it’s gone.’

‘When did you last see it?’

‘The day of the master’s death. In the morning, when I did the dusting. I haven’t been in here since, except when we had our talk. And then I can’t say whether it was here or not.’

‘Would someone have taken it since?’

‘Not to my knowledge, sir. The room hasn’t been entered. It’s a mystery, I’m afraid.’

Yeah, I’d agree with him there. ‘OK, pal,’ I said. ‘Leave it for now. Thanks again for your help. I’ll see myself out.’ I paused. ‘Oh, incidentally. Brother Lucius. When does he move in?’

‘The day after tomorrow, sir, or so I understand. I’ll be staying on until then, but one of the other members of the household staff will be taking on my duties. Temporarily, at least.’

‘You going to stay with your baker girlfriend?’

‘That’s right. We’re being married straight away.’

‘Good luck, then. Oh’ — I took out my purse and removed a gold piece — ‘maybe you can buy yourself a wedding present.’

‘That’s very generous of you, Valerius Corvinus. And good luck to you. I’ll sleep easier when my master’s killer is found. He was a decent man, at heart.’

Yeah, well, I’d heard worse obituaries. And coming from a guy like Anthus, short as it was, it had weight, more so than Manlius’s public eulogy.

I left.

So, to Quintus Baebius. And with the new development regarding the missing statuette I now had something definite to ask him about. The business with Caesius Senior’s will had been a facer, though. I’d been convinced — as Perilla had — that there was something screwy about it, and where it left us vis-à-vis Mettius as a suspect I couldn’t think. Still, I had the name and address of one of the witnesses, so at least I could make a confirmatory check.

I made my way up towards the Alban Lake Gate. Baebius, it transpired, lived in a very tidy property on the street that ran along the inside of the town wall, one of several similar tidy properties in what was obviously a prime residential district. There was a young slave outside, polishing the brass door knocker, so I gave him my name and waited in the atrium while he went to enquire whether the master was receiving.