David Wishart - Solid Citizens

Gods! Why the hell hadn’t she told me then?

Unless, of course, she’d had a guilty secret of her own to keep. Which would make all kinds of sense …

‘You know that she used to be Quintus Caesius’s slave?’ I said to Carillus.

His surprise was obvious. ‘No, sir. I didn’t. That she’d been a slave, certainly, but as far as I knew she’d always belonged to the brothel owner Opilia Lucinda over in Tibur.’

‘This would’ve been before that. Twenty years or so back.’ Shit; there was something there, I just knew it. ‘Listen, pal, this is important. Is there anything you’re not saying? About your mistress and Caesius’s death?’

His face was set. ‘No, sir. Nothing.’

He was lying, that I was sure of. Still, putting the pressure on at this point wouldn’t do any good: the guy was tottering on the edge already. Past it.

‘Fine, I’ll take your word for it,’ I said. ‘But if you do think of something you’ve forgotten, you let me know, right? No comeback, I promise, and it can’t harm anyone now, can it?’ He didn’t answer. I sighed. ‘OK. Is there anything else you can tell me? About Andromeda’s death, I mean?’

‘No, sir.’

‘You wouldn’t happen to know something about a small bronze, would you? Pretty old? The figure of a runner? You ever see your mistress with that? Or Aulus Mettius, maybe?’

‘No, sir.’

He was beginning to clam up. Well, like I said, twisting arms wouldn’t help. We’d just have to let him think things over and hope that he changed his mind.

‘OK,’ I said. ‘That’s about all I can do for the present. My son-in-law Clarus should be here later on. He’s a doctor over in Castrimoenium, and he’ll want to look at the body. You fine with that?’

‘You mean I have to just leave her as she is, sir? That I can’t contact the undertakers and have her taken care of? That’s not decent.’

‘Clarus shouldn’t be long. And he’ll be pretty quick. But it’s important that nothing’s disturbed before he gets here.’

‘Yes, those were Master Nerva’s instructions too. I understand. Very well, I’ll do as you ask.’

‘Fine.’ I turned to go.

‘Valerius Corvinus?’

I turned back. ‘Yeah?’

‘Perhaps it’s not the time to raise the question, but the girls will be asking me. What will happen to the house now? With the mistress dead, I mean?’

Shit; you don’t think of these mundane things at a time like this. Unless, of course, you’re a slave and part of the property, to be disposed of as such. Then they rank pretty high.

‘I don’t know, pal,’ I said gently. ‘You’d better ask Nerva.’

‘I’ll do that, sir. Thank you.’

I left.

OK, I could talk to Clarus about the how and when of Andromeda’s death later, back at the villa. Meanwhile I’d carry on with the original plan of getting Baebius by the throat regarding the probably totally minor issue of the fake birthday present, plus a follow-up on the missing bronze front and the business of the Lotus. After that — and, ancient history or not, I’d a gut feeling that this was anything but minor — I might chase up the connection between Andromeda and Quintus Caesius, particularly in terms of why he’d sold her on to a brothel owner in Tibur. Anthus would be gone by now, sure, off to start his new life with his baker fiancée, but although I could probably get an address for him easily enough I suspected he wouldn’t be too forthcoming on the subject: when I’d talked to her, Caesius’s sister-in-law Vatinia had used the phrase ‘family scandal’ in connection with it, and I’d bet that the old guy would balk about repeating any story that showed his ex-master in a dishonourable light. Which, from all the indications, it would. So Vatinia herself it had to be.

Onwards and upwards. I found the antiques shop and went in. No Baebius in evidence, but the old freedman (Nausiphanes, wasn’t it?) was sitting behind the counter.

‘Good morning, sir,’ he said, getting up. ‘Back again?’

‘Yeah,’ I said. ‘Actually, I wanted to have a word with your boss. His door slave said he might be here.’

‘I’m afraid not. He hasn’t been in today at all; in fact I didn’t know he was back from a trip to Rome. Is there anything I can do for you? No problems with the plaque I sold you, I hope.’

There was no point in bawling out the hired help. ‘No, my stepfather was delighted with it,’ I said, which in its way was perfectly true. ‘It’s about something else entirely. So you wouldn’t know where I’d be likely to find him?’

‘No, I’m sorry. I can take a message, of course, if you’d like to leave one. He’s bound to drop by sooner or later.’

‘It doesn’t matter, pal. No hurry. Oh, by the way, though, while I’m in. That little bronze you talked about last time. The one of the runner, from what’s-his-name’s estate. The Roman ex-governor.’

‘Plautius Silvanus, sir. That’s right. What about it?’

‘How much would it have been worth?’

‘The going price on the open market would’ve been about twenty thousand, sir. It was, as I said, a very nice piece, although certainly not unique. Why do you ask?’

‘Just curiosity.’ Well, that checked with what Baebius himself had told me. And it cleared up one possibility, that the statuette was worth far more than he’d said it was. That would’ve upped the ante on how desperate he was to get his hands on it and provided him with a viable motive for at least the latest two murders, which, as the only one of the suspects with an acknowledged interest in the Runner, he might well have had. Twenty thousand was a large slice of cash, sure, but not enough for a guy in Baebius’s position to kill for, and if the bronze wasn’t a major collector’s item in itself, that side of things was a non-starter, too. If I was looking for a reason to finger Baebius as the perp, I’d have to do better than the missing Runner. ‘Thanks, Nausiphanes. I’ll see you around.’

‘Any time, sir. Have a good festival.’

So. Up to the Tiburtine Gate to collect my horse, and on to Mettius’s villa for another talk with his mother. I reckoned that would just about do me for the day. Besides, by the time I’d finished there, Clarus might be back to put in his report on the latest corpse.

At least this time I’d managed to avoid the slightly gut-churning forensic examination. That I could do without.

As she had been before, Vatinia was sitting in the atrium.

‘Valerius Corvinus,’ she said when the slave had shown me in and I’d sat down. ‘I didn’t expect you back so soon. Have you any news?’

‘No, I’m afraid not. Or not about your son’s death, anyway.’ I hesitated. ‘Opilia Andromeda. She was found dead this morning. Murdered.’

Her blank eyes stared at me. ‘Sweet Juno!’ she whispered. ‘The poor woman! I’d no liking for her, as you know, but I wouldn’t have wished her ill. What happened?’

‘From the looks of things, she was killed while she slept. By a blow to the head.’

‘Like Aulus, you mean?’

‘Yeah, more or less.’

‘Was there a connection?’ She frowned. ‘Forgive me, that was a silly question; of course, there must have been. And with poor Quintus’s death, too.’

‘Yeah. Actually, that’s what I came to ask you about,’ I said. ‘When we talked yesterday you mentioned something about a family scandal involving her. When she was your brother-in-law’s slave.’

Her lips tightened. ‘I was referring to her liaison with my son, of course,’ she said. ‘As you well know.’

‘Right. Right. Only I have the feeling, now, that maybe that wasn’t all there was to it.’

Her chin went up. ‘Where you got that impression from, Valerius Corvinus, I really can’t think. Certainly not from me.’