David Wishart - No Cause for Concern

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Put the word out. I want Satrius found. Tear the fucking city apart if you have to, but find him!’

The guy looked scared. ‘Yes, sir.’ He left.

‘He’ll’ve gone to Paetinius,’ I said. ‘Or at least that’s my best bet. Where else could he go?’

‘I’ll get him.’ Eutacticus came back to the desk and sat down. ‘Sooner or later. Don’t you worry about that. And when I do the bastard won’t die easy. As for Paetinius, I told you before, he’s dead meat.’

Well, I’d reckon the jury was still out on that one. When I’d talked to him, Paetinius Senior hadn’t seemed to be too concerned on that score, and Lippillus had said the guy had pretty considerable clout of his own. He’d’ve had to be fairly sure of his ground before he risked an all-out war with Eutacticus to begin with; he might even have decided the odds would be on his side when the shit hit the shovel and engineered the confrontation deliberately. Still, that was none of my concern; they were both crooks, and the pair of them could go to hell in a handcart with my blessing. In any event, I certainly wasn’t going to broach the subject with Eutacticus himself. I kept my mouth firmly shut.

‘You’ve done well, Corvinus.’ Eutacticus was giving me his crocodile smile. ‘Oh, sure, I wish things’d turned out different. Titus is dead, so is Astrapton, and like I said, I trusted that bastard Satrius, he was my right arm. And it appears I’ve lost a lot of cash, one way or another. But none of that’s your fault, you’ve lived up to expectations. You can leave things to me now. Call the case closed. Like I told you at the start, you’ll find me grateful.’

Fair enough. If the guy was happy – or at least the next thing to it – then he wasn’t going to get any argument from me. Still, I had my professional pride to think of.

‘Hang on, pal,’ I said. ‘There’s just one loose end to tie up. This business of Larus.’

He frowned. ‘Yes?’

‘My guess is that the Seagull’s a ship, not a person. That’s about as far as I’ve got at present, but I was planning to go down to Ostia, ask around at the harbour. There’re three possibilities I’d like to check out.’

‘Astrapton’s dead. Wherever he sent it, and however he did it, the money he stole’s gone. That part of the story doesn’t matter now. I’ve never been one to cry over spilt milk, Corvinus.’

‘Yeah, well, put it down to unsatisfied curiosity. But I’d be happier myself to finish things with a tick in all the boxes. And that last crate wasn’t sent until a few days ago. It could still be waiting for collection.’

‘Fair enough.’ He stood up and held out a hand. ‘Do what you like. My thanks, in any case. I’ll be in touch.’

I wouldn’t be holding my breath, that was for sure: if I never saw the dangerous bastard again this side of an urn I wouldn’t be crying either. Still, I shook the outstretched hand.

I was heading towards the stairs when the door to my left opened.

‘Corvinus?’

Bugger; it was Sempronia. Not that I’d’ve minded another cosy tete-a-tete, but the chances were that Cleia would be there as well, and I was feeling bad enough about her brother already without having those mousey eyes fixed on me throughout the interview.

Sempronia must’ve read the thought in my expression. ‘It’s all right,’ she said. ‘I’ve sent Cleia to her room. She’s very upset. She and Alexander were very close, and of course coming on top of Lynchus -’

‘Yeah. Right.’

‘Come in.’

I followed her inside and we sat on the facing couches.

‘I wanted to catch you before you left, just to tell you that you needn’t feel guilty about Alexander’s death,’ she said. ‘If anyone was responsible, I was; I sent her to you, and it must’ve happened just after she left. She told you Satrius had seen her?’ I nodded. ‘Right. If I hadn’t forced her to go he’d probably be still alive.’

‘Maybe so,’ I said. ‘Mind you, my guess is that the poor guy was a dead man walking from the start. Not that I’d’ve even hinted that to Cleia. Satrius couldn’t’ve let him live. It was too risky, because sooner or later, one way or another, the business of the time discrepancy would’ve got out, your father would get to hear of it, and his goose would be cooked.’

‘Not necessarily. My father wouldn’t’ve taken Alexander’s word over Satrius’s.’

‘Maybe not, lady. But what reason would Alexander have to lie? He’d have nothing to gain and a hell of a lot to lose. Your father’s no fool. He’d’ve known that.’

‘Possibly.’ She put her chin in her hands. ‘But why not kill him before? Or arranged things so that the death looked accidental, or something? Why wait until Alexander had told Cleia, let alone until Cleia had told me?’

I shrugged. ‘Pass. Although we don’t know for sure that Satrius knew the secret was out. He may’ve thought, or just hoped, maybe, that Alexander hadn’t spotted the discrepancy at all.’

‘Mm. That’s not very likely, is it? Alexander wasn’t stupid, and the whole household knew that Astrapton’s whereabouts were still supposed to be a mystery until the morning his body was found. Which was why he mentioned it to Cleia in the first place.’

‘Yeah. True.’

‘Still. I hope Father finds him. Satrius, I mean. And he will, eventually. It won’t bring Titus back, of course, but I’d like to see him dead. Very much so.’ I winced at the cool, matter-of-fact tone; they’d got a lot in common, father and daughter. ‘So what now, Corvinus?’

‘Not a lot. Your father says the case is closed, and that suits me. There’s something I want to check over in Ostia, but that’s just curiosity, a loose end. What about you?’

It was her turn to shrug. ‘Marriage, I suppose. To Statius Liber, in a few months’ time. I told you about him. Not something I’m particularly looking forward to, but I don’t have much choice.’ She stood up and held out a hand. ‘Goodbye, anyway, and thank you for everything.’

Yeah. Right. Not the best close to a case I’d ever had, but like the lady had said you can’t choose how things will pan out. I shook, and left.

Next morning, we went through to Ostia. We’d set off early, before first light, with me on the mare and Agron and Cass in the wagon they’d used for the outward trip, so after dropping my bag off in the empty upstairs flat there was enough of the day left to make a start on the business side of things. Agron had told me my best plan would be to check with the harbour-master whether the three possible Seagulls were in port. He’d have addresses, too. So that’s what I did. I was in luck: with less than a month of the sailing season left, they’d all finished their round trips and were berthed for the winter. I made a note of where to find the several owners and went back to settle in properly. Not, from the looks of things, that I’d have a very long stay; barring complications, I should be able to clear the thing up and be back home within a couple of days, easy.

I was up and out bright and early the next morning. Ostia isn’t a big place, compared with Rome, and like any other town families involved in the same line of business tend to gravitate to the same area; so all three addresses were pretty close, near the harbour itself. I’d no reason to think one name was more or less likely than another, so I planned on taking them in the order Agron had given me: Secundus, Imber and Florus.

I caught Secundus at breakfast; like Agron, in the bosom of his extremely large and boisterous family. In between the screams and general wrangling, I established that he’d never had a commission from anyone matching Astrapton’s name or description. Scratch Seagull Number One.