David Wishart: No Cause for Concern

The owner – that had to be him, sitting at one of the tables, tucking into a late breakfast or early lunch of bread and bean stew – fitted the place. Sleazy, greasy and with as much visible appeal as a snot-filled handkerchief.

‘Yeah?’ he said through a mouthful of the local cookshop’s best. ‘What’s your business?’

‘The name’s Marcus Corvinus, pal,’ I said. ‘I’m representing Sempronius Eutacticus.’

The magic words again. He swallowed, stood up and brushed crumbs and stray beans off his tunic. I could grow to like this.

‘Eutacticus?’

‘That’s right. He understands you’ve got a girl working here. A dancer. Name of Lysidice.’

‘What does Eutacticus want with her?’

‘Just a five-minute chat. Or rather, I do as his rep. She does work here, then?’

‘Did. I haven’t seen her for days. Not since her boyfriend was found stiff in her room with his throat cut. She’s cleared out completely.’ He belched. ‘That what this is about?’

‘More or less. The boyfriend was Eutacticus’s accountant.’

‘Oh, fuck!’ The guy swallowed again. Not beans this time; he just swallowed. ‘He thinks she did it?’

‘No. He knows who was responsible. He’s just curious about the details. Hence the visit.’

‘Me, I don’t know nothing.’

It could be true, of course. If I’d been the Watch, sure, it would’ve been the instinctive reply from any Suburan worth his salt, the verbal equivalent of a knee-jerk, and I’d’ve discounted it as such on principle. On the other hand, when one of Eutacticus’s reps – self-styled, naturally, but he wasn’t to know that – was the person doing the asking it was more believable. Not completely believable, mind, but there you went. A little pressure might do it.

‘Come on, pal,’ I said. ‘You can do better than that, surely? The boss really, really wants hard information here. If I ask around, maybe the girl’s neighbours, and find you were holding out on me then when I tell him he isn’t going to be very pleased, is he?’

The guy practically whimpered. ‘Okay,’ he said. ‘She was back in here not long after she’d finished her stint and gone home, in a bit of a state, saying she was in trouble and asking for money.’

‘This was the night before? Before the body was discovered, I mean?’

‘That’s right.’

‘You give her it? The money?’

‘Lysidice’s a nice girl. Never any trouble, like most of them are, never asked for a sub before. And she was desperate, I could see that. I paid her the wages she was owed, maybe a touch more.’

Okay; so that fixed the time of the murder to the previous night. It also let the girl off the hook as far as pocketing any cash Astrapton had brought with him was concerned. The person who’d taken that, Satrius or whoever, must’ve been the guy’s killer. ‘She didn’t say what the trouble was? Or where she was going?’

‘No. I swear. I didn’t know nothing about her boyfriend until the next day, when one of the other girls who works here went round to visit and found the body.’

‘What about the neighbours? That late in the evening they’d be at home, right? No one saw or heard anything?’

He looked at me as if I’d grown an extra head. ‘This is the Subura,’ he said. ‘Here you keep your doors locked after dark. You don’t look outside them. And if you do hear anything that sounds like trouble you forget about it as soon as you hear it, because trouble is catching. Besides, the flat opposite’s empty.’

‘Right. Thanks for your help, pal. You’ve been very informative.’ I turned to go. ‘By the way, you happen to know someone called Satrius?’

‘Eutacticus’s man?’ He looked, suddenly, nervous. ‘Yeah. Not personally, just the name.’

‘You ever see him around here? Has anyone?’

‘He the one who did it?’

Well, disreputable blot on the landscape the guy might be, but he was quick enough on the uptake. ‘Just answer the question, pal.’

‘No. No, I’m sorry. Can’t help you there.’

I tried the magic word again. ‘Not even if it’s Eutacticus doing the asking?’

He was sweating, but he looked me straight in the eye. ‘I’ve never even seen the man,’ he said. ‘That’s the gods’ honest truth. I swear it.’

Yeah, maybe. Still, I’d seen the effect Laughing George had on people like this poor bastard. Scylla and Charybdis came to mind: getting on the wrong side of either of them from choice was a bad, bad idea. And until the boss of Cupid’s Bow personally saw Satrius’s ashes shovelled into an urn I’d bet he wouldn’t dare peach on him. Even then he’d probably think twice.

I left the guy to his beans.

Right. The Pincian. Only I wouldn’t hurry, to give Cleia a bit of breathing space and some time to talk things over with her brother. Not that I’d any fears that this would turn out a bum lead: the circumstantial side of her story had checked out at every turn, it fitted in with all the other facts and with the theory as well. Besides, the girl had been genuinely terrified at the thought of coming to see me at all.

So I killed a few hours in a friendly wineshop I knew on the way that had some decent wines on the board and rolled up at Eutacticus’s gate when the sun was well into its third quarter.

‘Go straight on in,’ the guy on the gate said. ‘The master’s expecting you.’

‘He is?’

‘Yeah. Has been for the last couple of hours, at least.’

Shit; I didn’t like the sound of this.

Eutacticus was in his study, talking to – or at, rather – a couple of guys I didn’t know but who looked like heavies. He looked up with a face like thunder.

‘What kept you, Corvinus?’ he snarled.

‘Uh…’

‘Never mind, you’re here now. You get the message?’

‘What message?’

He sent the heavies out with a flick of a finger. They trooped past me with set faces. ‘There’ve been developments. One of my clerks’s been found dead with a knife wound in his belly and Satrius is missing.’

Oh, gods. ‘Alexander?’

He stared. ‘How the fuck did you know that? Sit down. We have to talk.’

I did. ‘Okay. So tell me. What happened?’

‘Not much to tell. One of the garden slaves found the body earlier this morning stashed behind a tree at the back of the house. I sent for Satrius to get him to fetch you but Critias couldn’t trace him. The gate slave said he’d left the premises. What the fuck is going on here? And how the hell did you know about Alexander?’

I felt sick. ‘Your daughter’s maid came to see me this morning,’ I said. ‘She’s Alexander’s sister. She said that he’d told Satrius where to find Astrapton, the day before we went to the Subura and discovered the body.’

‘The day before? But Satrius told me -’

‘Right. Only he’d already killed the guy himself, the previous evening. I’ve just checked and it all works out.’

‘Satrius killed Astrapton?’

‘Yeah. Your stepson as well. At least, that’s what it looks like.’

‘Gods!’ Eutacticus sat back in his chair. ‘That doesn’t make sense.’

‘Sure it does. Satrius was working for Paetinius. My guess is that he and Astrapton did the job together, on Paetinius’s orders.’

‘Satrius has been with me for years! I trusted the bastard!’

I shrugged. ‘That’s the theory. And it fits the facts, right down the line.’

‘You’re sure about this? One hundred percent, cast iron sure?’

‘Yeah.’

He got up, made for the door, opened it and bellowed:

‘Critias! ’

The major-domo must’ve been waiting in the corridor, because he was straight in.