David Wishart - No Cause for Concern

I blinked: twenty thousand plus was serious, serious gravy. And not the sort of money that a freedman accountant could come up with in a hurry. Not out of his own pocket, anyway. We’d got the bastard. ‘Can you let me have a list of the creditors concerned, and where I can reach them?’ I said. ‘That possible?’

‘Yes. Yes, of course.’ He was sweating now. He reached for a blank tablet and a pen and started scribbling frantically. We waited. Finally, he handed the tablet over to me. ‘There you are. I think that’s all of them.’

‘You had better be fucking sure about that, pal,’ Satrius said. ‘Because if we find out that it isn’t -’

‘It is! All of them! I swear!’

I glanced at the tablet. Four names. None of them meant anything to me, but I passed the tablet over to Satrius. He read it, his lips moving. Yeah, well: the guy had other, more germane professional qualities. Like the ability to intimidate the shit out of our sweating friend here. Those four names would be all there were, I was sure of that.

‘Any bells?’ I said.

‘Nah. They’re just ordinary punters, far as I can see.’ Satrius handed the tablet back to me. ‘Okay, Cicirrus, that’s it for the present. But the boss’ll expect you to drop round for a chat in the very near future. About how his accountant could run up a debt of twenty thousand and then pay it off without you letting him know. Understand?’

Cicirrus’s Adam’s apple worked its way up and down. ‘Of course. It’ll be a pleasure.’

Satrius grinned. ‘I doubt that, sunshine. But see it happens, okay? And if there’s anything else you feel like telling him in the meantime, don’t hesitate to get in touch.’

‘I will certainly do that.’

‘Fine.’ He glanced at me. ‘You finished, Corvinus? Got all you wanted?’

‘Sure.’

‘Then I’ll be getting back. You can find your own way home?’

Jupiter! Don’t tell me the guy was metamorphosing into some sort of horrendous baby-minder. ‘Yeah,’ I said. ‘Yeah, I think that I could just about manage that. So long as you point me in the right direction.’

Satrius grunted, and left. I left, too, but not directly for home: the man at the top of the list lived near Pearlmarket Porch, which was almost on the way back to the Caelian. While I was in this part of town I reckoned I might as well drop in on him and see what his story was.

‘ Would that be Sextilius Acceptus Senior or Junior, sir?’ the door-slave said when I asked if the guy was at home.

‘Uh…I’m not sure, pal,’ I said. ‘It’s about a gambling debt.’

The slave gave a sniff that was pure Bathyllus. ‘Junior, then. I’m not sure if he’s up yet. Your name, sir?’

I told him.

‘Very well. If you’d care to wait in the lobby I’ll find out.’

He went off to do that small thing while I kicked my heels in the Sextilii-Accepti-plural lobby. Evidently unshaven strangers – I hadn’t had a chance to get round to that before Laughing George had shown up – calling on the subject of the son and heir’s gambling debts didn’t rate the atrium. Not that the slave had shown much surprise.

The slave came back. ‘He’ll be down in a moment, sir. If you’d like to come through to the study.’

It took considerably longer than a moment, but Acceptus the Younger finally crept in. Crept being the operative word: if I knew a hangover when I saw it – and I did, believe me, from when I was this kid’s age – then this one was a beaut, the full don’t-speak-too-loudly-because-my-head’ll-fall-off catastrophe.

‘What did you say your name was?’ he said.

‘Corvinus. Valerius Corvinus.’

‘Never seen you before in my life.’ He frowned. ‘Have I?’

‘No.’

‘So what’s this about a gambling debt?’

‘It’s not to me, pal. And I’m not putting the bite on. All I want is some information.’

The frown vanished; he looked relieved. ‘About what?’

‘You know a guy by the name of Astrapton?’

‘Yeah, I know Gaius Astrapton. We play together regularly at the Fleece, us and a few friends.’

‘When did you last see him?’

‘A couple of days ago. He took a cool hundred off me.’

‘He, uh, reliable? Where money’s concerned?’

‘Sure, he’s reliable.’ The frown was back. ‘We wouldn’t cut him in if he wasn’t. What’s this about? He owe you money?’

‘No. But I was told that he took a real pasting about six months back. Twenty thousand plus.’

‘Yeah, that’s so. Twenty five, as a matter of fact. What business is it of yours?’

‘And that he settled the debt in full. I was just wondering where the money came from.’

Acceptus chuckled. ‘You saying you think it wasn’t his?’

‘It’s a possibility. I’m looking into things for his boss.’

‘His boss? ’

‘Yeah. Anything strange about that?’

‘It’s news to me, that’s all. I didn’t know he had a boss. Oh, he’s a freedman, sure, but I thought he had a business in his own right. A pretty thriving one, at that, import and export.’

‘Is that so, now?’

‘Sure. Not that he said so, in so many words, but that was the impression I got. That we all got. We didn’t ask outright. House etiquette: so long as he pays his way and settles his debts, outwith the Fleece a guy’s private life is his own affair. If he wants to keep it quiet, that’s his concern.’ He was frowning again. ‘You’re saying Astrapton’s been on the take? Dipping his hands in the till?’

‘So it would seem. He settle the debt in cash?’

‘Cash money, as ever is, silver piece for silver piece. No quibbles, no delays. So where is he now?’

‘I don’t know. He’s disappeared, and his boss is looking for him.’

‘Jupiter! You live and learn.’ Acceptus shook his head, then winced and shuddered. ‘He was okay, Astrapton. He was good company, and like I said he settled his debts. That was a once-off, he just hit an unlucky streak, happens to us all. So what was his boss’s name?’

‘Don’t worry about it, pal.’ I was already heading for the door. ‘Thanks for your help. I’ll see myself out.’

So. We’d got our proof. Forget the Caelian; I needed to have another talk with Eutacticus.

Eutacticus hit the desk with his fist, hard. ‘The bastard! The scheming, two-timing, treacherous bastard! ’

Yeah, well, I couldn’t argue with that. ‘At least you know for sure now,’ I said. ‘You got any hard evidence from this end?’

‘No, not yet. My people’re still working through his records, and I told you, he’s smart. It won’t be just a case of money left unaccounted for.’ He scowled. ‘So. What’s the connection with my stepson’s murder? You think there is one?’

‘Possibly.’ I gave him a rundown of Perilla’s theory, that Paetinius Senior had been behind the killing and Astrapton had been his son’s accomplice in exchange for the promise of a future bolt-hole.

‘That makes sense,’ Eutacticus said. His face was set. ‘I’ve lost out to Paetinius over two or three big deals this last few months. I thought it was just bad luck and coincidence, but if Astrapton was feeding him inside information he could’ve creamed me easy. Which he did.’ He hit the desk again. ‘Shit! We’re talking millions here, Corvinus! When I catch the bastard I’ll roast him alive! And as for Paetinius and that son of his -!’

‘Uh…it’s just a theory, pal,’ I said quickly. ‘We’ll need a lot more proof before we -

But I was talking to myself. Eutacticus was on his feet and heading for the door. He opened it.

‘Critias! ’

‘Hold on,’ I said. ‘What’re you doing?’