David Wishart: White Murder

The two men turned, and I recognised Eutacticus and Typhon. The guy standing was my old pal Laughing George, and he was obviously on duty. My stomach went cold.

‘Ah, Corvinus.’ Eutacticus smiled. ‘I did call round at your house earlier but they told me you were out. Never mind, we seem to have an errand in common after all.’ He nodded to the others. ‘Gentlemen.’

I glanced at Typhon. The little runt’s face was grey and his mouth and hands were twitching like he had a fever. Not a happy man. I’d guess that his presence here wasn’t of his own choosing and if it hadn’t been for Laughing George a foot from his elbow he’d be several miles off and still running.

‘How are you, Eutacticus?’ Natalis was stiffly polite. Acceptus was staring at Typhon. If the guy could’ve looked any sicker he’d’ve been for the urn himself.

‘Oh, quite bonny. Quite bonny.’ Eutacticus’s smile widened. He stood up. ‘I see you have business with Lucius Cammius here. We’ve just this moment arrived ourselves, but my own business with him can wait. I’ll withdraw inside and allow you some privacy, shall I? No, Typhon, not you’ – the runt had got up as well – ‘I promised Valerius Corvinus an opportunity of talking with you at the end, and I suspect this is as good a time as any. I don’t, though, advise attempting to leave.’ He turned to Laughing George. ‘Watch him. From a distance, but watch him.’

He went back in the direction of the house, passing a couple of slaves carrying folding stools. Laughing George ignored me. There was a stone bench a dozen yards off between two espaliered peach trees. He crossed to it and sat down.

Cammius hadn’t moved. I looked at his eyes, and then wished I hadn’t. What stared back at me was a trapped animal. Cario was looking at him too. I saw his mouth open, then close as he darted a glance between his father and Eutacticus’s retreating back.

The slaves set the stools down and waited, but they weren’t going to get anything from either Cammius or Cario so I said quietly: ‘That’s all, lads. Off you go.’ They gawped at me and left.

We sat, all except Typhon. The guy was still shaking, and his eyes were as wild as Cammius’s. The gods knew what was going on inside his head, but for my part they were welcome to the knowledge.

There wasn’t any point in going round the houses, not at this stage. ‘You killed Pegasus, didn’t you?’ I said softly to Cammius.

‘Yes.’

The word came out as a whisper, and it was almost lost behind Cario’s shout of: ‘No! ’ How the other two reacted I don’t know, because I wasn’t watching them, but I had the impression that Natalis had grabbed Cario’s arm and forced him down.

I hesitated. I had the admission, but I owed the guy more than that. ‘You want to explain?’ I said.

‘He’d found out about Polydoxus. You know about Polydoxus?’ I nodded. ‘He was threatening to tell the Greens.’

‘So you followed him to Renatius’s wineshop where he was meeting your son, waited your chance and stabbed him.’

Cammius smiled: on that face, with these eyes, the effect was horrible. I felt my scalp crawl. ‘There was nothing else to be done,’ he said. ‘I’d willingly have paid, or paid more, rather, but that kind of man is never satisfied. Worse, as part of the price he wanted control of my faction. My faction. However great his loss as a driver, that I couldn’t have. He had to die. Of course he did. You see that, Corvinus, don’t you?’

I shivered; we could’ve been discussing the price of fish. ‘Yeah. Yeah, I see that.’

‘So as you say I followed him to the wineshop. Not, of course, that I knew where he was going, or why, but he was leaving the stables and killing him there would have been too much of a risk. I was lucky. There was an empty tenement just opposite that was being renovated.’ He looked down at his tunic: he wasn’t wearing a mantle. ‘I got wet plaster all over my clothes. Ruined, quite ruined. You remember remarking on that, Cario, when I got back.’

I glanced at Cario and saw for the first time the horror of realisation dawn. I felt sorry for the guy, bitterly sorry. No, he hadn’t known about the blackmailing, or the murder. He hadn’t known about the significance of the plaster, either, because I hadn’t mentioned it to him. If I had, the realisation would’ve come sooner.

‘The Eighth District Watch,’ I said. ‘How did you square them?’

‘I didn’t.’ The smile disappeared and he frowned. ‘You mean the business of the purse.’ I nodded. ‘Taking it to ascribe the motive for the killing to simple theft must have been the Watch commander’s own idea.’ His eyes flicked towards Natalis. ‘I understand he’s a keen Greens supporter. Pegasus wasn’t too popular in that quarter either. If I’d thought to remove the purse I would have done so, but it didn’t occur to me. Unlucky, of course, since it got you involved, but that’s fate. I thought I’d got away with it until you forced Valgius into a proper enquiry and he came round to the stables asking questions.’

Uh-huh; so that was what had triggered the rest of it. I’d been wondering about that myself. Valgius must’ve taken my threat to go to the city judge’s office seriously after all; seriously enough to get up off his backside and go through the motions, anyway. And the effect on the Whites’ boss of the threat of an official investigation on top of my private one must’ve been like a basin of ice-water in the face. ‘So you had to dispose of the last piece of evidence,’ I said. ‘You had to poison Polydoxus.’

I’d been concentrating on Cammius, naturally, but the indrawn breath behind me pulled me round. Typhon was staring at the old guy like he’d sprouted horns. Two seconds later he’d shouldered past me and had his hands locked round Cammius’s throat.

I moved fast, but Cario was faster. I’d hardly got a grip on the runt’s tunic before he’d pulled him away and tossed him down like a doll, his fist bunched and raised to smash the guy’s face in.

‘Cario! Wait!’ I snapped.

I didn’t think he’d obey, let alone that he’d heard me, but his arm stopped and the fist unclenched. He slowly straightened, then stood over Typhon glaring down at him.

Typhon struggled to his knees, eyes fixed on Cammius, and shot out a finger.

‘You bastard!’ he screamed. ‘You bastard! You fucking set me up!’

I glanced over at Laughing George, but he hadn’t moved. Watch him , Eutacticus had said. Well, Laughing George was watching. It must be nice to be so uncomplicated. I looked back at Typhon. He was on his feet again; Acceptus too, his face the colour of parchment. They were both staring at Cammius slumped against the arm of his bench.

The last piece of the puzzle slipped into place. Yeah; that had to be how it had happened. It’d been a possibility, but I hadn’t been sure until now.

‘Tell them,’ I said to Typhon.

The dull, desperate look was gone. The little guy was pure, hundred-percent undiluted venom. His eyes never left Cammius’s face. ‘I’m going to be fucking killed,’ he said to him softly. ‘And you knew all the time. All the fucking time.’

‘Tell them!’

Typhon took a deep breath. ‘I’d agreed.’ He jerked his thumb at Acceptus. ‘With him there. For fifty gold pieces, paid in advance.’

Acceptus had sat down again. His face was set, and he was still staring at Cammius, but he didn’t speak.

‘Tell it from the beginning, Typhon,’ I said.

‘Three days before the race he ’ – another stab of the finger at Cammius – ‘sends me round to the Blues stable with a message. Private, to Acceptus himself.’