David Wishart - Solid Citizens

‘Uh-huh,’ I said, and stood up. ‘Convenient. Well, thank you, gentlemen, it’s been very instructive. I’ll see you around.’

I could feel their eyes on me all the way to the door.

Rod had gone, but the major-domo was still in the atrium filling the lamps.

‘Uh … Flavus, wasn’t it?’ I said.

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Just a question, pal. Silly, but still. When Sextus Canidius had dinner here six days ago what did you serve for the main course? You remember that, by any chance?’

He frowned. ‘But Master Canidius didn’t stay for dinner that evening, sir,’ he said. ‘He left about an hour before sunset.’

‘Ah. Right. My mistake. No problem, it doesn’t matter.’

‘I’ll see you out, sir.’

I glanced up at the sun. Still a fair bit of the day left, and the weather wasn’t looking too bad. I’d time for that chat with Anthus about old Marcus Caesius. It shouldn’t take long — Caesius’s house was only a couple of hundred yards down the road towards the gate — and I could still be back home well before dinner.

Things were shaping up nicely.

‘Back again, Valerius Corvinus?’ Anthus said when he joined me in the atrium. ‘You’re becoming a regular visitor.’

‘So it seems,’ I said. Interesting how freedom and the right to wear a freedman’s cap affects behaviour: the old guy was much more relaxed, much chattier now than he had been when I’d first met him as a slave, even though that had only been a couple of days before. It’s very easy to forget that the bought help are people, too, with their own thoughts and feelings. Too easy, maybe.

Mind you, I couldn’t quite see him behind the counter of a baker’s shop, hefting trays of rolls and passing the time of day with some chatty housewife over her morning Campanian Cob. That didn’t really seem the guy’s bag, somehow. Still, if he’d taken up with a baker’s widow in the first place he must have another facet to his personality, so maybe it wouldn’t be an issue.

‘Did you talk to Lucius Ampudius?’ he said. ‘About the old master’s will?’

‘Yeah. He was very helpful, and like you said everything seems to be above board there. No problems.’

‘Then why this visit, sir?’

‘I was just wondering if you could tell me a bit more about the old man himself.’

Anthus gave me a puzzled look. ‘I scarcely see why that should be relevant to the master’s murder,’ he said. ‘Particularly since Master Marcus has been dead for eleven years now.’

‘Maybe not. Still, there is a chance that there’s a connection. If you can fill in a few gaps for me I’d be very grateful.’

‘Then of course I’ll give you any information I can. Ask away.’

‘You were major-domo here when he was alive, right?’

‘Yes, sir. Of course. I’ve held the post for over thirty years now, and I’d been with the family all my life before that. In fact, I was born in this house.’

‘According to Ampudius he was, uh, failing mentally and physically in his latter years. Including the time he made the will disinheriting his son.’

‘Oh, no, sir. You must have misunderstood. As Lucius Ampudius will have told you, I expect, he was certainly showing some signs of frailty, both physical and mental, when he made the will, but he was in complete command of his faculties, at least where his powers of judgement were concerned. The real decline set in later, a year or two before his death, and it was very rapid, particularly in the final months.’

Yeah, well, that chimed with what Ampudius had said, right enough. Bugger. Still …

‘At the time he made the will, your master Quintus Caesius was managing the family’s business interests, is that so?’

‘Yes, sir. At the old master’s specific request. The interests were fairly widespread, and at times rather complicated. He was an intelligent man, Valerius Corvinus; he knew he was failing and he was unsure how far he could trust himself where matters of finance were concerned. Also, naturally, by that time Master Quintus was in his prime and an excellent, experienced man of business in his own right. Old Master Marcus decided that things were better left in his hands completely, and he never had cause to regret his decision.’

‘Uh-huh. Ah … Lucius Ampudius also said that your master eventually had his father certified. That true?’

‘Yes, indeed he did. Rightly so. He postponed things as long as he could, but in the end, regrettably, he had no choice; in fact, if anything he left it too late. As I said, the old master’s eventual decline was very rapid; in his final year he was unable to perform even the most basic of physical functions without help, and his mind had almost completely gone. The power of attorney which Master Quintus had been exercising for several years previously was only ever an ad hoc arrangement; it had no legal basis. By that time, of course, it was impossible to set it on a legal footing because old Master Marcus was beyond completing the paperwork involved, or even understanding what was required of him. So to avoid any possible legal complications my master’s lawyer Publius Novius advised formal certifying. It was only a technicality, making no difference whatever to the existing situation, and as I say the old master died shortly afterwards.’ He gave me a straight look. ‘There was nothing there, Valerius Corvinus, which should arouse your suspicions, should you be entertaining any. Everything my master did, he did reluctantly, as a last resort, and for the most honourable reasons. He was the most excellent of men.’

Yeah, well, that more or less put the lid on it, and to be truthful under the circumstances I hadn’t really expected anything else. So scrap the coercion theory. Bugger again.

‘Thanks, Anthus,’ I said. ‘Again, you’ve been a great help.’

‘I’m glad, sir.’ He hesitated. ‘Was there anything else? About the missing figurine, for example? You’ve talked to Quintus Baebius and raised the matter with him, I suppose?’

He was smart, Anthus, and no fool; but I already knew that.

‘Yeah,’ I said. ‘It seems they were going to do some sort of deal the day your master died involving a part-exchange — a physical part-exchange — but it fell through. When he went out that evening, is it possible he had the figurine on him?’

‘Very possible, sir. But if he did, as I told you, I wasn’t aware of it. You have no idea where it could have gone?’

‘No. No clear one, anyway. It’s still a mystery. If it does turn up you’ll let me know, right? You can always contact me through Silius Nerva. Or of course send direct to my son-in-law’s villa outside Castrimoenium.’

‘I’ll do that. Although it isn’t likely, I’m afraid.’

‘No, I don’t suppose it is.’ I held out my hand. ‘Thanks again, pal, for all your help. And if I don’t see you before your marriage, give my regards to your wife.’

‘Certainly.’ We shook. ‘As always, the best of luck to you, sir. I hope you bring the killer to justice.’

‘Yeah, well, I’ll try.’

I left. Enough for today; really enough.

Home.

Perilla was alone in the atrium when I got back, reading.

‘Oh, hello, dear,’ she said, putting the book down. ‘Back early again? You’re doing well.’

‘Yeah.’ I kissed her and lay down on the couch opposite. ‘Early-ish, anyway. No Clarus and Marilla?’

‘They’re both out. Marilla’s walking Placida and Clarus was called away into town about an hour ago to set a broken arm. They’ll be back in time for dinner. So how are things going?’

‘Pretty well, really.’ Bathyllus came in with the wine tray. ‘Thanks, little guy. Everything still fine below stairs?’