David Wishart - Solid Citizens

‘One last question, lady.’ I indicated the scarf round her neck. ‘The bootmaker in the alleyway outside said you’d been in a fire in Tibur, before you took over here. That so?’

‘Valerius Corvinus!’ She sat up on the couch and glared at me. ‘That can have nothing whatsoever to do with your investigation, and it is certainly none of your business otherwise!’

‘True. You’re right, and I was just interested. Only it was quite a lucky break, wasn’t it? That’s what the bootmaker said, anyway. Got you your freedom and the sub to buy this place.’

‘Indeed.’

‘There wouldn’t be much to spare, though, would there? I mean, money-wise. It must’ve taken quite a sizeable lump sum, and however grateful she was, your ex-mistress couldn’t have been all that generous. After all, what with the fire and everything, she’d have her own losses to recoup.’

She was getting angry, and trying not to show it. ‘Corvinus, I repeat: that is none of your business. For your information, she gave me part of the money as a loan, in exchange for a share of the profits. A perfectly normal business arrangement between an ex-owner and her freed slave, which I was and am.’

‘Yeah, right. Only that’d shave your profit margins even further, wouldn’t it? And from the looks of things the place could do with some serious capital investment.’

She flushed. ‘What exactly is your point, please? If you think I murdered Quintus Caesius and stole this statuette you claim he had with him, then-’

‘I was just wondering where you got the spare cash for that pricey perfume you’re wearing. Not to mention a Coan silk scarf, a wig that must’ve come from one of the best couturiers in Rome, and a fair-sized specialist library. Book copying doesn’t come cheap. Believe me, I know.’

That fazed her; for a moment, she looked blank.

‘What?’

‘Of course, they might’ve been presents from a rich boyfriend. Me, I was wondering about Aulus Mettius.’

She stood up. She was quivering with rage, sure, but there was something else there, in her eyes and her expression and her whole body language. ‘Valerius Corvinus, you will leave now, please!’ she snapped. ‘My private life is none of your concern!’

I stood as well. ‘Fair enough,’ I said. ‘Thanks for your time.’

I left her still glaring. Cage nicely rattled.

Anger, yeah, I’d been expecting that, but there’d been that flash of something else when I mentioned Mettius. Even fear wasn’t putting it strongly enough. Unless I missed my guess, the lady was terrified.

Interesting.

OK, time for that early lunch. I went back to the main drag and turned right towards the market square and my usual wine shop. I was just passing the square and about to cross the road when someone shouted my name. I turned: Silius Nerva was hurrying towards me.

‘Corvinus, thank goodness!’ he said. ‘I’m glad I’ve caught you myself. I’ve had men out looking for you.’

‘Yeah?’ I said. ‘What about?’

He was looking grave. ‘There’ve been … developments.’

‘What kind of developments?’

‘Aulus Mettius has been found dead. Murdered.’

‘ What? ’ I stared at him. ‘When?’

‘About an hour ago. The finding, anyway.’

Gods! ‘Where did this happen?’

‘At the edge of his property, just outside town on the Castrimoenium side. His mother sent one of their slaves to tell me.’

‘The Castrimoenium side? You mean near Quintus Roscius’s place?’

‘Indeed. They’re close neighbours. As a matter of fact, it was Roscius who found the body.’

‘ Roscius found it?’

‘Yes. He was out hunting, seemingly. Mettius was lying in a clearing between the two farms. His head had been beaten in.’ Sweet Jupiter! I remembered hoping, when Perilla had said that Mother and Priscus were arriving early, that there’d be another murder to take me out of the house. Be careful what you wish for, because it might come true. And this I hadn’t expected. ‘You’ll want to go over, naturally.’

‘Sure.’ My brain had gone numb. ‘The body’s still there?’

‘No. Vatinia Secunda — that’s his mother, of course — had it carried back to the villa. Corvinus, this business is dreadful! Simply dreadful!’

‘Yeah.’ I frowned. ‘OK, I’ll collect my horse and get over to the villa now. Where exactly is it?’

‘I’ll have my slave take you.’ He glanced round at the slave who had followed him and was waiting just within earshot. ‘Tertius. Take Valerius Corvinus to the Mettius villa. Stay with him as long as you’re needed.’

‘Yes, sir.’ The slave touched his forelock.

‘Hang on,’ I said to Nerva. ‘You think you could send someone over to Castrimoenium to ask Cornelius Clarus if he’d join me?’

‘The doctor?’ He looked nonplussed. ‘It’s a little late for that, surely.’

‘I just thought he might be able to help, that’s all.’

‘Well, if you think he’d be useful, of course I’ll see to it at once.’

‘Thanks.’

He went off, leaving me sorely puzzled. Who would want to kill Aulus Mettius? And why?

Slaves were already outside the entrance to the Mettius villa hanging up the branches of funeral pine and myrtle. Before I’d got as far as the door one of them had gone into the house and reappeared with the major-domo.

‘Valerius Corvinus?’ he said.

‘Yeah,’ I said as I dismounted. ‘Look, I’m sorry to disturb you, but Silius Nerva said-’

‘No, that’s all right, sir. It was the mistress who asked him to send you straight over if he could. This way, please.’

I left Nerva’s Tertius to look after the horse and followed him inside. I thought, as with Caesius, they might’ve laid the corpse out in the atrium, but maybe it was too soon even for that, and they were waiting for the undertakers. In any case, the room was empty apart from an elderly woman in a mourning mantle sitting in a chair. Vatinia, presumably — Mettius’s mother and Quintus Caesius’s sister-in-law. She looked up when I came in.

‘Valerius Corvinus, madam,’ the major-domo said.

‘Thank you, Phrontis. Bring a stool over for him, please, and then you can go.’ Her eyes were fixed on a point to the left of my shoulder. They were covered with a white film, and I realized she was blind. ‘It’s good of you to come so quickly.’

‘I was in town anyway, and I bumped into Silius Nerva in the street,’ I said. ‘I’m sorry for your loss, Vatinia. You’re, uh, sure you want to talk to me now? I mean …’

‘I’ll grieve later, Valerius Corvinus. At present, the fact of Aulus’s death hasn’t really sunk in. I’d rather I talked to you now, if I must, before it does.’

The major-domo brought the stool, bowed, and left. I sat down.

‘Very well,’ I said. ‘Can you tell me anything about what happened? Anything at all?’

‘No. I keep mostly to my own room these days, even for meals. Aulus was a good son, in some ways at least, but although we occupied the same house we lived quite separate lives. According to Phrontis — and you can confirm this with him yourself, of course — he went out shortly after breakfast, which was the last time anyone saw him. Our neighbour Quintus Roscius came round about two hours later to say that he’d found his body in the grove of pines up beyond our topmost vineyard. That’s really all I can tell you.’

‘Your son didn’t say where he was going? Whether he was meeting someone, for example?’

‘Not to me, certainly. I hadn’t talked to him since he came to my room yesterday evening to say goodnight, as he usually did when he was sleeping at home. But Phrontis would know.’