David Wishart - Last Rites

The woman reddened. ‘She’s only nineteen, sir,’ she said. ‘Aulus and me, we had a daughter of our own once, but she died. I don’t need thanks.’

‘Even so, unless I’m wrong you saved the kid’s life. Literally.’ Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Aegle giving me a sharp look. ‘Last thing. If Myrrhine calls round again, or anyone else for that matter, you play dumb, right? And tell the local Watch. Mention my name’ – I gave it to her in full, plus the address – ‘give the guy in charge Myrrhine’s description and ask him to get his lads to keep an eye out for her, pick her up if they can.’

Aquillia frowned. ‘You don’t know the Watch around here, sir,’ she said. ‘It wouldn’t do a lot of good, believe me. As for the rest of it, whatever happens across the river in this neighbourhood we look after our own. If the woman makes any more trouble there won’t be a third time. My Aulus’ll see to that.’

Ouch; that had the quiet sound of a promise, not a threat. Dumpling or not, the lady had a core that was pure steel. You don’t mess with Transtibbies.

‘Fine,’ I said. ‘Just take care, you and Aulus both. And let me know, right?’

‘Where to now?’ Aegle said as we left the building. ‘Pottery Mountain?’

‘Yeah.’

I was looking around carefully, but I couldn’t see any sign of a homicidal fluteplayer in the vicinity. Even so – and call it paranoia if you like – I wasn’t taking any chances: if Harmodia had lived this long it was because her new girlfriend didn’t know where she was, and the logical thing for Myrrhine to do in that case was to stake out the girl’s flat and wait for her to come back. And if Myrrhine was watching then it made getting to Harmodia without running the risk of taking the bitch with us in the form of a tail a real bugger.

Being where we were, and going where we were going, of course, the solution was obvious. And that was unfortunate…

Yeah, well, there was no way round it; walking was out anyway, and, besides, Pottery Mountain was a long way off. Bite the strap, Corvinus.

I turned back to Aegle.

‘Hey,’ I said. ‘Litters make you seasick, right?’

‘Right.’

‘Fine. You want the good news or the bad news?’

‘Come on, Corvinus, stop messing! What is this?’

‘Just answer the question.’

‘Okay,’ she said cautiously. ‘The good news.’

I grinned. ‘We’re not taking a litter.’

I hate boats. Sea boats are the absolute pits, but river boats I can live without as well. I don’t think Aegle was too keen on them either, although by the time we’d cleared the tip of the island she’d gone the colour of a bad mussel and wasn’t communicating much. At least the skiff or the punt or whatever the hell it was that we’d hired at the Cestian was fast, and we were travelling with the current: even in winter when the river’s high the Tiber’s no place to be for longer than you can help, not if you like to do your breathing through your nose. I noticed that the guy who owned the thing and was propelling us downriver breathed with his mouth. Probably an old seadog’s trick, like never pissing into the wind.

He dropped us at a wharf just upstream of the mountain itself. I asked directions from a couple of guys fishing – Jupiter knew what they expected to catch, and why: this far down, below the exits for the city’s drains, the water looked like soup – and we headed off for Bakers’ Market.

Aegle was a better colour now, but she was still looking pretty queasy. ‘You think this Myrrhine would really have killed Harmodia?’ she said as we walked past the long line of state granaries: this is corn country, the main unloading stretch for the grain barges ferrying the city’s life-blood from the big transports down at Ostia.

‘Sure she would. That was why she came back.’

‘But why kill her at all?’

‘Use your head, lady!’ I said. ‘Harmodia was the first victim; or she should have been, rather. It was a set-up. For the mechanics of Cornelia’s murder to work Myrrhine needed an in with one of the girls playing at the rites. She stakes out that cookshop near the guildhouse you mentioned…’

‘Maenalus’s.’

‘Right. Once she’s found her mark she makes friends with her; the idea being when the time comes she zeroes the girl and takes her place.’

‘So Thalia died instead.’ Aegle was looking sick, and it wasn’t sea-sickness now. ‘Because she was standing in.’

‘Yeah. That sore throat saved the girl’s life. Myrrhine had set the scam up nicely, only it went down the tubes at the last minute when Harmodia told her she’d cancelled out. She had to cut her losses there and then and go for the replacement.’

‘Why didn’t she kill Harmodia anyway?’

‘She couldn’t run the risk of being caught. Also she’d other fish to fry. Besides, Harmodia was no threat, she didn’t know nothing from nowhere. Later, after the murder, things were different, especially since Thalia was dead too. Harmodia would’ve been a fool if she hadn’t put two and two together. If she’d still been around when Myrrhine came calling the girl would’ve died. Myrrhine had to kill her to shut her mouth.’

‘That’s horrible.’

‘Sure it’s horrible. The kid can just thank Aquillia and her husband that it didn’t happen.’

Aegle went very quiet after that, and she looked even sicker.

We were getting close. I could see Bakers’ Market up ahead; smell it, too, a combination of fresh bread, herbs and spices. The street trade in sweet and savoury buns, bread-rings and honey cake, like every other trade in Rome, is run by families who’ve been in the business for generations, and most of them had set up here to be near the corn supply and save on freight charges. Harmodia’s mother would belong to one of these. Jupiter knew why the girl had gone for a fluteplayer rather than sticking with the family trade, but you get these mavericks at every level. Look at me. If I’d stuck with tradition and done things the way Dad wanted me to I’d’ve had my place in the senate by now, maybe even made city judge, and be spending my time hobnobbing with slick bastards like Nomentanus and buttering up sleazeballs like Galba. Yeah, well; it’s nice to get something right now and again.

I’d forgotten to ask Aquillia for the mother’s name, but Aegle knew it anyway so we found the particular bakery no bother: a small concern in an alleyway off the main square. There was a slim, dark-haired girl inside, pulling a tray of hot bread-rings from the oven.

‘Hi, Harmy,’ Aegle said.

The girl almost dropped the tray. ‘Aegle!’

‘Yeah. How’s it going?’

Harmodia didn’t answer, just brushed a lock of hair out of her eyes and looked at me. I noticed she had a purple bruise on her jaw.

‘Who’s this?’ she said.

‘A friend. Marcus Corvinus. He wants to ask you a few questions.’

I thought she was going to run: her eyes slid left and right like she was deciding which way offered the better chance.

‘No hassle, sister,’ I said gently. ‘Only we have to talk about your pal Myrrhine.’

Harmodia set the tray down on the big stone table that took up most of the floor space. Her hands were shaking. ‘She didn’t tell me nothing,’ she said. ‘I swear she didn’t.’

‘It’s okay.’ Aegle moved forward and gave the other girl a hug. ‘Corvinus knows you weren’t involved.’

‘Is Thalia all right?’

My spine went cold. Shit; of course, she wouldn’t know.

‘No,’ Aegle said softly. ‘Thalia’s dead.’

The girl gave a sort of whimper and her hands went up to her face. Aegle led her to a bench and sat her down. I waited.