David Wishart - Solid Citizens

Yeah, I fancied Manlius, certainly as a comfortable side bet. Particularly with Canidius in the background as an éminence grise .

Maybe, though, if I was pushing that angle I should rope in Silius Nerva. I wasn’t exactly persona grata with Bovillae’s aedile, and I certainly wasn’t going to ask him straight out if his tame gorilla had zeroed Mettius: Nerva could arrange things more subtly, and with a better chance of a satisfactory result. Besides, the bastard was getting his penny’s worth of effort out of me where this case was concerned as it was.

So. First stop the town offices. If Nerva wasn’t there — which as an ordinary senator he probably wouldn’t be — the public clerk would be able to point me in the right direction.

In the event, I didn’t have to bother looking for him: Nerva was in the square itself, chatting to a guy in a sharp plain mantle who had his back to me. I went over.

‘Ah, Corvinus,’ he said. ‘How did things go at the Mettius villa?’

The other guy turned round. Canidius.

‘Uh, OK,’ I said. ‘Do you have a moment to spare? In private?’

‘Of course.’ He frowned and turned to Canidius. ‘I’ll talk to you later, Sextus, if that’s convenient. But tomorrow evening should be fine. We’ll call it a date, shall we?’

Canidius was giving me a jaundiced stare, which after the circumstances of our last meeting wasn’t surprising.

‘The Mettius villa?’ he said.

Nerva hesitated, and glanced sideways at me. ‘Poor Aulus Mettius has … met with an accident,’ he said. ‘A fatal accident. You hadn’t heard?’

‘No, I hadn’t.’ Canidius didn’t seem too surprised, mind. Or all that shocked, or even interested. ‘Oh, dear. What a pity. Tomorrow evening it is, then, Publius. I look forward to it. Corvinus.’ He gave me the briefest of nods and moved off.

I watched him go. ‘So what’s happening tomorrow evening?’ I said to Nerva.

‘Just a dinner invitation. He and his wife are coming over for a meal.’ Yeah, of course: in a small town like Bovillae, the Great and the Good of the social network would be in and out of each other’s houses all the time, particularly in the festival period. Still, it was a salutary reminder that I couldn’t be absolutely sure of even Nerva’s objectivity. ‘Now, Corvinus, what can I do for you?’

‘I was wondering if you could check on something,’ I said. ‘Manlius’s rod man, or one of them. Would anyone know whether he was doing anything in particular earlier this morning?’

Nerva frowned again. ‘Do you have a reason for asking?’

‘Just checking, like I say. Mettius had his head beaten in, as you know. My son-in-law Clarus says it could’ve been done with some sort of long, weighted stick. The kind that rod men carry.’

‘And you think this man might have been responsible?’

‘It’s … a possibility,’ I said cautiously. ‘If he was elsewhere at the time it’d definitely rule him out.’

‘But why on earth would Marcus Manlius’s rod man want to kill Aulus Mettius?’ Nerva asked. I said nothing. Nerva sighed. ‘Very well, I won’t pry. You’re dealing with the case; you have your reasons for suspecting him, no doubt, and presumably you think they’re valid, or sufficiently so. But as I told you, it’s a bad business.’ He patted my arm. ‘Still. As far as checking on the fellow’s whereabouts is concerned, we can find those out easily enough, in fact we’ll do it now. The lictors are public servants. The clerk over at the town offices should be able to say whether he was on duty today. Follow me.’

The offices were just the other side of the square. We crossed over through the crowd and I followed Nerva up the steps and inside.

‘Ah, Salvius,’ he said to the slave on the desk. ‘This is Valerius Corvinus. He wants to know if one of Aedile Manlius’s lictors by the name of …?’ He glanced at me interrogatively.

‘Decimus,’ I said.

‘By the name of Decimus had any formal duties this morning.’

‘No, sir,’ the slave said. ‘Not today. The aedile was at home, so he wasn’t needed.’

Nerva grunted and turned back to me. ‘There you are, Corvinus,’ he said. ‘Question answered. Of course, Manlius might have told him otherwise, as he has a perfect right to do. If he’s at home at present we can always go over and check. It wouldn’t take long; he doesn’t live far away.’

‘No, that’s OK,’ I said. There was no point: if Decimus had been moonlighting on instructions from his boss, Manlius wasn’t likely to admit it just for the asking, was he? I turned to the clerk. ‘One more thing, pal, while I’m here. You know the night the censor-elect was murdered? Could you happen to tell me if the guy was on duty then?’

‘That’d be after sunset, sir, so no, he wouldn’t be, definitely not. Under normal circumstances, a lictor’s duties fall only between sunrise and sunset.’

Under normal circumstances . Right.

‘Thanks,’ I said, turning away.

‘Well, Corvinus,’ Nerva said as we left. ‘So your “possibility” is still possible. For what it’s worth, I’m compelled to say.’

‘Yeah, it seems so. Still, it’s only one of several.’ I glanced up at the sky, to where the sun was peeking through the clouds. Getting towards the middle of the afternoon. Well, there wasn’t anything to keep me in Bovillae for the moment, not if Carillus over at the brothel was acting watchdog for his mistress. I really, really needed to talk to her, but it seemed that was going to be difficult now. I just hoped she hadn’t skipped town altogether, which was a distinct possibility. ‘Thanks for your help, Nerva. We’ll leave it there for the present.’

‘I’ll be getting home, then,’ Nerva said. ‘Good luck with the continued investigation. Libanius was quite right to suggest contacting you. You appear to be doing very well.’

Uh-huh. It didn’t exactly feel like that from my side; in fact I’d describe my progress as like wading through glue. The usual problem: too many theories, not enough hard evidence. Still, glue or not we were moving forwards, and at least I was able now to make a case for Decimus the rod man being a possible perp for both murders, with his boss — and, by implication, Canidius — the guiding brains.

Unless, of course, the killer had been Roscius, who together with Brother Lucius was equally if not a hell of a lot more possible where motive and opportunity went. Or Opilia Andromeda, using the second murder of her lover as a cover-up for the first. Then again, ignoring the alibi his door slave had given him, there was always Quintus Baebius …

Glue, pure and simple. Sod it. I was going home, too.

Bathyllus met me in the villa’s entrance lobby with the wine tray, his black eye very much in evidence.

‘Here you are, sir,’ he said, handing me the welcome-home cup of wine. ‘And let me just say I have given my solemn, binding promise to Master Clarus and Mistress Marilla that if I am allowed to stay for the duration of your visit you will have no further cause for complaint. Lupercus has given his word, too. Will that be satisfactory?’

I grinned. ‘Yeah, OK, Bathyllus. You’re off the hook, pal. It is the Winter Festival, after all, and so long as you and Lupercus behave yourselves and get along nicely that’s all I ask. But you’re on strict probation, right?’

‘“Share”, sir, shall henceforth be my watchword.’

‘Good.’ I kept my face straight and made a move towards the atrium. ‘See you keep it that way.’

‘Ah … sir?’

I turned. ‘Yeah, Bathyllus? Was there something else?’

‘I should tell you that your mother and Helvius Priscus have just arrived. About ten minutes ago, in fact.’