David Wishart - White Murder

Fair enough. ‘You said that the money was only part of the price. What else was involved?’

‘Pegasus wanted a bigger say in what went on. He’d got round Dad – Dad’s no racer himself, and to be fair to the guy he knew the business inside out, especially where the Greens were concerned – but I was being difficult.’

‘Care to tell me why?’

‘Because right from the start I hated the bastard’s guts, and I didn’t trust him. It was that simple.’

‘But your father did? Trust him?’

‘Sure. It was one reason why he took him on in the first place, barring the driving, of course. Like I say, he knew the business inside out and he was no fool. Neither is Dad. Having Pegasus on the team gave us another edge, I don’t deny it. That was what made it worse. I felt I was being squeezed out already, and I didn’t like it.’

Well, at least he was being honest, and that impressed me. If Cammius was no fool then neither was his son; he must know that he was giving me yet one more good reason to think he was the killer. What he’d said took the heat off Cammius as a possible suspect, too, if he’d ever been in the running. My ears had pricked up when he’d mentioned Pegasus’s ambitions where the faction was concerned, but from the sound of it Cammius hadn’t minded; quite the reverse. Which fitted in with what I knew of the old guy. If we were thinking along the lines of cui bono then Pegasus’s death hurt him there as well. Besides, we were in a whole different ball game from the situation over at the Reds’ place. Cammius was in firm control of his faction, and although he might not have the long-term all-round experience of, say, Titus Natalis he was too much respected and too strong a character for Pegasus to mount any sort of take-over.

‘Okay,’ I said. ‘You want to tell me what happened the day of the murder? In detail?’

Cario laced his fingers together. He was looking a lot calmer now, but from the way he was twisting his signet ring I knew that appearances were deceptive. ‘We arranged to meet at Renatius’s, like I told you,’ he said. ‘Only something came up, a problem with one of the horses, and I was kept back. When I got to the wineshop there was a crowd outside, or rather outside the alley next to it. I asked a guy what was going on and he told me that Pegasus had been found knifed. I panicked and I ran. Maybe I passed Uranius on the way, but if so I can’t remember.’ He spread his hands. ‘That’s all.there was. I swear it.’

‘Anyone else know about the meeting?’ I knew the question was pretty pointless, but it had to be asked.

‘No. Not from me, anyway.’

No surprises there; I’d’ve been surprised if he had let it out. And I already knew that Pegasus hadn’t blabbed. I leaned back on the stool. Cario’s story fitted; too well for reasonable doubt, anyway. More, I recognised the truth when I heard it, and Cario wasn’t lying, not as far as I could tell. ‘You didn’t see anyone else you knew? On the way?’

Cario gave a lopsided grin. ‘Corvinus, believe me, at that point I couldn’t’ve said what day it was. I haven’t been so scared in my life.’

Yeah; I’d believe that too. So: we were back to raking among the suspects. Still, although I reckoned we could scratch Cario for the moment the fact remained that the guy had a cast-iron motive, he’d been in the area at the proper time and the only reason he’d admitted it was that he’d been rumbled. If he was a red herring then I wasn’t throwing him back altogether, just letting him swim around on the hook until I found a better prospect.

‘By the way,’ he said. ‘What was Uranius doing on Iugarius?’

‘Hmm?’

‘He doesn’t usually get back from the Aventine until a lot later and Iugarius isn’t on the usual route.’

‘Oh, the practice session finished ahead of time. And he had business in Market Square.’ I wasn’t going to betray Uranius’s confidence. It was too important that the existence of the affair with Natalis’s daughter didn’t get out. ‘So he said, anyway.’

‘Right.’ Cario nodded, not really interested. He smiled suddenly. ‘I’m glad I told you,’ he said. ‘It’s been worrying me.’

‘Yeah.’ I got up. ‘Well, thanks a lot. You want to see me to the gate?’

‘No, I think I can trust you. It’s the least I can do.’

I left. The kid with the mop had moved a few tiles further on. He didn’t look up as I passed.

Okay; so where did we go next? The Whites’ stable was played out for the moment. That left the Green and the Red connections. The one guy, though, that I really had to talk to because he’d be able to fill in the background to Pegasus’s life of crime with the Greens and possibly give me the reason why he’d shifted to the Whites, was Sopilys’s bugbear Eutacticus, the crooked cartel manager. Not that that little meeting was something I intended to rush into; even without Sopilys’s warning I’d’ve thought twice before heading gaily up to the Pincian and knocking on the bastard’s door, not without taking out some sort of insurance first. Something along the lines of half a dozen of my beefiest slaves and a note dropped to my old pal Gaius Secundus currently at the Mint but attached to the city judge’s office saying where I’d gone and how long I was likely to be there. The powers-that-be might turn a blind eye to cartel monkey business where unlicensed touts were concerned, but a missing purple-striper was another matter. I didn’t think Eutacticus would mess with a Roman noble, however little actual practical clout he’d got; not unless he felt himself threatened, of course, and that was something I’d be very careful to avoid. However, there was no point in taking risks. All I intended doing at this juncture was making a quick reconnaissance, just enough to get the guy’s actual address so I knew exactly where I was going, then clearing out until I’d made proper arrangements.

Triumph Road cuts across the north-west corner of the city, ending up at the Aemilian Bridge. Too far west, in other words. The best way to the Pincian was to go back a little towards the centre, take a left along the south side of the old Flaminian Circus, then join Broad Street half way between Capitol Hill and the Saepta. After that it was a straight line north along the far side of Mars Field towards Augustus’s mausoleum and the start of the Flaminian Road proper. A fair hike, sure, but it had to be done sometime: this was something I didn’t want to delegate. Besides, I still had half the morning left, it was a beautiful day and good weather for walking.

I was going past the row of upmarket tenements that front the line of the old racetrack – the Flaminian’s been out of use for years now, and most of it’s built up – when I remembered something. When I’d talked to Felicula she’d told me that Laomedon rented a flat on the Flaminian’s south side and used a wineshop there as his local. She hadn’t given me a name, but wineshops couldn’t be too plentiful along this stretch and I might as well check it out while I was in the area. Besides, if I was going to take a hike out as far as the Pincian I owed myself a bit of lubrication first.

There was only one contender: a tight little place with roses growing up the wall and two or three well-scrubbed tables out front. The only visible customers were a couple of guys chatting over a jug, but we were still two hours shy of lunch so that was about par for the course. A good time to ask questions, too, because the landlord’d be free to answer them. I nodded to the two punters and went in.

Nice place, at first glance anyway; I’d have to remember it. The inside tables and benches were just as clean and scrubbed as those outside and there was a fairly well executed humorous mural on the side wall, of three baboons picking grapes and operating a wine-press. No other bodies; I was on my own.