Kelli Stanley - The Curse-Maker

“I don’t know.”

“I could make a guess. They’d need someplace to launder money-and lead and silver. What better place to wash it clean than a new bath complex?”

She nodded her head. “Makes perfect sense.”

“Well, I do have my moments. Sometimes I can even string a bunch of them together and get a whole day. Now-anyone else you discussed? Vitellius?”

“Sulpicia’s boyfriend?” Her voice was puzzled. “What about him?”

“I don’t know, but she dropped him like last year’s favorite gladiator.”

“Nobody mentioned him. We talked about the other duovir, of course. Secundus.” She shuddered.

“Ah! So what did they say?”

“He was born and raised here. Made his money on sheep and horses, and then shipping.”

“Go on.”

“He operated out of Dubris and came back home as soon as he made enough money to impress the people he grew up with.”

“He’ll never have that much. What about-”

Her lips drew together in a tight line. “Materna. According to Crescentia, she’s become worse as Secunda’s grown up, and grown up to be pretty. She’s the only surviving child. Materna’s obsession with Faro is common talk. So is her resentment of attractive women-Sulpicia for one. She helped spread the rumors about Sulpicia’s husband.”

“Which turned out to be more than rumors.”

“That’s not why she told them.”

“Anything else?”

“They’ve never had a problem with their taxes.”

I rubbed my chin. I needed a shave again. “What about Philo, other than his infatuation with a certain married woman?”

“I’ve done nothing to encourage him.”

“You don’t have to.”

We stared at one another. The corners of her mouth curled up and stretched a little, like a cat in the sun. “I admit I enjoy it when you get jealous. But Ardur … you know I love you, and I think you know how much.”

We stared some more until the hair on my arms stood up and my throat made a frog noise. “Tell me what you heard.”

“Crescentia said he came from Hispania several years ago. He’s grown in status ever since. Pompeius repeated what she’d said about Philo and that proposed temple to Aesculapius near the other spring.”

“Does he pay his taxes?”

“Oh, yes. Cash.”

“He’s about sixty, you know.”

Her eyes enjoyed a small chuckle at my expense. “I know.” Then she leaned forward and spoke with some seriousness. “Why does he bother you so much? Philo’s been nothing but a friend to us since we’ve arrived. Look what he did this morning.”

I still wasn’t sure about this morning. Slapping Materna to keep her mouth shut about Gwyna was my job. Philo stepped in as my surrogate. A position he no doubt enjoyed.

Gwyna was still leaning toward me, her clasped hands encircling her knees, her eyes trying to read my face. The penmanship was messy. I was confused about the good doctor. Somehow he made me not feel-not feel like either the governor’s medicus or the man who married my wife. That wasn’t Philo’s fault, though. That was mine.

I smoothed out a wrinkle in my forehead and wished what was inside of me would straighten as easily. Maybe it would, if I could just catch my breath. I looked up at Gwyna, who was still watching me, worry nipping at the edges of her face.

“All right. Let’s go over the dangers of living in Aquae Sulis. Do you have any blank spots on that papyrus?”

“No, but I brought a wax tablet.”

“Can I have it?”

She handed it over, and I scribbled with the stylus and handed it back. “Read it out loud, if you would.”

She squinted at it. “Is that in Greek?”

“Very funny.”

“Let’s see-it says ‘Murders.’ Underneath, the first word is ‘Bibax.’

“Underneath ‘Bibax,’ write ‘blackmail.’ ”

She wrote it down in an elegant hand and asked: “Are you listing motives?”

So much for the mystery of my methods. “Well-yes.”

She tapped the stylus on her lips and thought a minute. “Under ‘blackmail’ we can list Sulpicia, of course. And Titus Ulpius Sestius.”

“The nephew of the old lady? Rusonia what’s-her-name?”

“Rusonia Aventina. I think he’s being blackmailed.”

“Why?”

“From something Crescentia mentioned I forgot to tell you. Sestius is running through his money too quickly.”

“From spending it on some dancing girl.”

“Not just that. He’s wildly overindulgent, owes everyone in town-and he’s always nervous, looking over his shoulder. He’s scared of something, Ardur.”

“He should be, if he killed his aunt.”

“So we’re not done with the Bibax business?”

“We never finished it. The mine and Faro interrupted us.”

“Do you think they might be connected? Bibax and what we think his scheme was-and the mine?”

I shrugged. “Certainly the mine seems connected to this new development project. And that friend of Drusius-the farmer who died? Killed because of the mine. Was he cursed by Bibax? I don’t know. Finding how everything fits together is a goddamn Gordian knot. Anyone else under ‘blackmail’?”

“Not that I can think of. But what about revenge? The note said ‘Ultor,’ after all. Someone like a relative of that young man-the one you just mentioned-”

“Aufidio.”

She wrote it down excitedly. “Yes-a relative would want revenge on Bibax.”

“Only if he knew Bibax was responsible, and right now it looks like the mine people were. The two I met would’ve slit their mother’s throat for a bottle of posca. ”

“I don’t care, I’m writing it down.”

“All right. Let’s move on to Calpurnius.”

“But Ardur-you haven’t listed the other motive.”

“What other motive?”

She drew her knees up to her chest and laced her fingers around them. “The ‘unknown.’ Perhaps Bibax’s accomplice became tired of sharing the profits. I suppose that would make greed the motive. But maybe it was someone we don’t even know-for reasons we haven’t discovered yet. It’s important to list, I think.”

“Go ahead. It’s a good idea.”

“Calpurnius. ‘Blackmail,’ of course.”

“And we don’t know who.”

“Any ideas?”

I said slowly: “At first I thought there were two different murderers, and that the ‘Ultor’ note was faked-planted on Calpurnius to confuse us. Now I’m not so sure. Maybe I was supposed to think that. Maybe I was supposed to notice the difference in the writing.”

“Maybe you’re overthinking it?” It was a tentative suggestion, and I grinned at her.

“Probably. Because I can’t figure out why someone would want revenge against Calpurnius. ‘Ultor’ doesn’t make sense, unless Papirius got really pissed off about a drain. No, I figure he was killed because someone saw him talking to me, and that person thought he knew enough to be a danger. But Calpurnius wanted money. He wouldn’t talk for free. Maybe he even tried to blackmail the murderer-and get paid twice for the same information. All I got out of it was ‘cui bono.’ We know what he got.”

“ Cui bono. You know, Ardur-that reminds me of the mine, and the development by the spring.”

“Now you know why my head hurts.”

“Poor baby. Let’s get back to categories. Calpurnius was probably killed for knowledge-that works, doesn’t it?”

“Yes. We should list that under Faro, as well.”

Her hand shook a little when she wrote the name down. I said: “Before I forget-that boy-Dewi. You can put him under your ‘unknown’ category.”

Gwyna looked up, pleased. Then she realized what I meant. “You mean he really was murdered?”