David Wishart - Old Bones

'Really?'

'Cut the sarcasm. You want to bet?'

Perilla sighed. 'No, dear, I don't. You have the most annoying habit of being right about things like that, completely against the run of common sense.'

I grinned. 'Last, Clusinus. In some ways he's the most obvious of all. Certainly he had opportunity. The murder happened on his own property, he'd arranged to meet Thupeltha at the same time but he didn't turn up. And finally he was the guy who most opportunely caught Priscus with the corpse. As far as motive's concerned -'

'He'd been hunting. Priscus said he had the game with him.'

'He could've been out all day. A pair of bustards isn't much, not this time of year. And whatever applies to Papatius applies to him. He could've arrived when Thupeltha and Navius were having their argument, stayed hidden to listen, then instead of keeping the appointment followed the kid and murdered him. The knife would make sense, too. He'd've overheard Navius threatening suicide, so even if he'd used his own knife he could've replaced it with Navius's to bolster up the story. Then all he'd've had to do was go away for half an hour and come back when it was all over.'

'Why should he?'

'Why should he what?'

'Come back. If he really was the murderer. If he knew the corpse was lying there surely it would have been safer to keep well away. How could he be sure it had already been found?'

Yeah; the lady had a point. I'd been up that bit of the track, from the bottom, at least, and the place where Navius's body was was tucked away out of sight of the higher reaches. Hell. 'Maybe he saw Priscus coming and let him get there first.'

'Or maybe he didn't know the corpse was there at all.'

Right. Bugger. Failing Papatius, I liked Clusinus, I liked him a lot. But Perilla was spot on; that was a problem. I wished now that I'd walked that last bit of track, the stretch between Navius's place and the summit of the hill, to check the line of sight absolutely. Still, I could always do that tomorrow.

Perilla was looking thoughtful again. 'Marcus,' she said, 'one thing does puzzle me about this business.'

'Just one?'

'What about alibis? Navius must have been killed within a very narrow space of time, an hour at most. Wouldn't it be sensible simply to ask everyone where they were and if anyone could confirm it?'

Fair question. 'Yeah, it would be,' I said. 'Very.'

'So why not do it?'

I sighed. 'Two reasons. First, because officially this isn't my investigation and if I tried the buggers would quite rightly tell me to go and stick my nose somewhere else. End of interview. Aternius might've got away with it, sure, but Aternius has his man already. Second, because at this time of year any self-respecting farmer's out in his own fields and his own boss. There wouldn't be anyone to confirm. Sure, if Clusinus had been at home his wife and kids might've…' I stopped. 'Shit.'

Perilla looked at me. 'What is it?'

I waved her to silence. Oh, Jupiter! Jupiter, it was beautiful! I didn't know whether to laugh or cry, and it was my own fault.

I'd been making one glaringly stupid mistake all along: I'd equated sex with love. And because I'd done that I'd missed an explanation that was so head-bangingly simple that a six-year-old kid would've thought of it straight off.

Papatius couldn't have killed Navius. Papatius was the only guy who couldn't have killed him because Papatius was the only one of the bunch with a cast-iron alibi.

His problem was he couldn't use it.

Clusinus's place was pretty dilapidated: there were tiles missing from the roof, the shutters looked like they hadn't had a lick of paint since Augustus had swapped his sun hat for a halo, and the yard was littered with the sort of junk that people collect thinking they might get round to fixing it one day if they have the time. It also stank seriously of goat and chicken-shit.

I picked a careful path to the entrance, banged on the door and waited. Finally a kid of about six -female – opened up and peered round the jamb. There was another one behind her – male – a couple of years younger. They stood looking at me like I was a blue-rinsed Briton.

'Is your father in?' I said.

The six-year-old shook her head. Her brother shoved a finger up his nose.

Yeah, well, that figured, and I was grateful: if Clusinus had been at home things might've been a little tricky.

'How about your mother?'

Nod.

Not one of nature's great talkers, this little lady. 'What's your name, Gabby?' I said.

'Trebbia.'

The kid with the finger didn't introduce himself, he just stared and poked. I reached into my purse, took out a couple of coppers and held them out.

'Okay, Trebbia,' I said. 'You think you and Porsenna here can use these?'

'His name's Sextus,' she said; but she took the coins.

'Whatever. I'd like to talk to your mother. Any chance of arranging that for me?'

'Who is it, Trebbia?' The voice came from inside. Trebbia stuck her chin over her shoulder.

'The Roman,' she said. 'The nosy one.'

I grinned. Well, there ain't nothing like a reputation.

There was the sound of light footsteps and the door was opened fully. Yeah, that was Bright-Eyes sure enough. And she looked even better without the cloak.

'My name's Corvinus,' I said. 'Marcus Valerius Corvinus.'

'Yes, I know.' Her voice suited her: barely a whisper. She didn't step aside, though. 'Titus isn't in at the moment. I don't know when he'll be back.'

'It was you I came to see.' That got me a quick, scared look. 'About Larth Papatius.'

I'd tried to make that last bit sound as unthreatening as possible, but she still went pale.

'Larth?'

'No hassle, lady.' I spoke quietly as if I were calming a frightened horse. 'None in the world. I swear it. But if you want to save the guy's neck we really do have to talk.'

She lifted the knuckle of her right forefinger to her mouth and nibbled on it. For an instant I thought she was going to slam the door in my face, but she didn't.

'Trebbia,' she said. 'Take Sextus and play with him in the yard for half an hour.'

The kids disappeared, with the smaller version being trailed along by the wrist looking back at me with huge eyes. Vesia stepped back from the threshold.

'You'd better come in,' she said.

The inside of the farmhouse was laid out like Vipena's, with an inner courtyard and fermenting vats; but these looked filthy and unused, and there was more junk piled around the walls. She took me through another area with a press that looked like it had been used for squeezing olives once upon a time and still had the pulp to prove it and then down a short passage to the kitchen.

That at least was clean; it was better than clean. The stone-flagged floor and the big wooden table gleamed at me. She'd even polished the skillets. Meton would've approved, and where kitchens are concerned that bastard's as pernickety as they come. I'd guess that the farmyard area and the workrooms were Clusinus's province, but this was Vesia's.

'Sit down, Valerius Corvinus,' she said. Her voice had been low before, but now it could've done service for a ghost's. 'Have you eaten?'

'Yeah. Yeah, thanks.' I pulled up a chair. The wooden back felt slippy under my hand, and I could smell the beeswax.

'Some wine, then.'

'That'd be great.'

She poured. It was foul stuff – maybe these vats were used after all, but Clusinus just didn't bother mucking them out between seasons – but I drank it. The lady had enough problems without a picky guest adding to them.

'Now,' she said, sitting down facing me. I'd seen that look before on the faces of dentists' customers in Cattlemarket Square while they're waiting to have a tooth pulled.

It would be easier if I told her rather than asked, and like with the dentist it was best done quickly. I was pretty sure of my facts, anyway.