David Wishart - Trade Secrets

I was getting the picture here. Money-lenders aren’t known for their generous and philanthropic natures, and the interest rates for a big loan advanced at short notice would be crippling; Vibius would’ve had to pay through the nose. ‘And then Tullius suddenly cancelled the contract, right?’ I said. ‘Leaving you with a debt you couldn’t service.’

‘We could, just, although it wasn’t easy. I had other customers, of course, Tullius’s firm wasn’t the only one, but their order was the biggest on our books by a long chalk, and because it had been coming in regularly for the past ten years we’d got into the habit of relying on it to keep things turning over. It takes time to build up a replacement market, and the sudden fall in sales and the wait to bring them up again nearly broke us. Certainly it swallowed every copper piece I had in savings. We’re over the worst now, but things are still difficult, and will be for years to come.’ He gave me a straight look. ‘Which is why, Valerius Corvinus, you will not catch me shedding any tears for Gaius Tullius. And now, if that’s all you need to know’ – he stood up – ‘I’ll let you go about your business. I’m sorry, but I can’t wish you luck.’

I stood up too. ‘Right,’ I said. ‘Thanks for your time.’ I paused, my hand on the door handle. ‘That your daughter, by the way? The girl upstairs.’

He frowned. ‘Yes. Yes, it is. My daughter, Vibia.’

‘She’s a lovely-looking girl. You and your wife must be proud.’

A pause. ‘I am, certainly. My wife is dead.’

‘I’m sorry to hear that.’ I opened the door. ‘Thanks again. And my apologies for disturbing you.’

‘Don’t mention it.’

I left.

Interesting, yes?

I got back to the Caelian well before dinner time, to find Perilla in the atrium babysitting, with the Sprog on the couch beside her and Mysta in attendance; evidently the currently sprogless Clarus and Marilla hadn’t rolled in yet from whatever junketing they were indulging in today, which suited me fine, because I could fill the lady in on recent developments. Not, I knew, that the blessed status quo would hold for much longer; at the very least, when I told Marilla – as I’d have to straight off, because she was sure to ask – that I’d turned my nose up at her murder the shit was going to hit the fan in no uncertain terms. So a bit of quiet before the storm was welcome.

‘Oh, hello, Marcus, you’re back,’ Perilla said. ‘Look, he can almost sit up on his own now. Isn’t that marvellous?’ Then, to the Sprog: ‘Who’s a clever boy? Grandad’s home.’ The Sprog blew a respectable raspberry at me and tried to stuff the little wooden horse he was holding into his mouth. ‘He’s getting on really well for his age. And I think he might be teething.’

‘Is that so?’ I lay down on the couch opposite and set the full wine-cup that Bathyllus had given me on the table. It’s always amazed me how even when they’ve no kids of their own women turn into hands-on experts inside of five minutes where babies are concerned. That, and pick up the gooey voice which seems to be an essential part of the communication process.

‘Do you want him for a bit?’ Perilla said.

‘Uh-uh. Not me.’

‘He won’t break, dear. And he’s really very amenable.’

‘Yeah, I’m sure he is.’ I eyed the Sprog warily. He’d evidently got the horse’s head just where he wanted it and was giving it a thorough gumming while he stared back at me with fascinated interest. ‘Even so.’

‘Well, have it your own way. Actually, though, he is feeling a bit moist underneath, so I think he might need changing.’ She turned round to Mysta. ‘Would you, Mysta? You can bring him back down again later when your mistress gets home.’

‘Yes, madam.’ Mysta collected the Sprog from her and carried him off, holding the wooden horse in place. Perilla smoothed her tunic – I was sure I saw a damp patch there; a lucky escape, then – and turned back towards me.

‘So,’ she said. ‘How was your day?’

‘Pretty successful, all told,’ I said. ‘I talked to the husbands. Vecilius is our boy.’

‘You’re sure?’ Perilla said.

‘He said he’d been at the workshop all day, which was a complete out-and-out porky. There was at least an hour unaccounted for, which would’ve been plenty of time to commit the murder.’ I told her what the wineshop owner had told me. ‘Chances are he came on Tullius sniffing around again and knifed him.’

‘But, Marcus, that doesn’t make any sense.’

‘Oh? Why not?’

‘First of all, Tullius would have to be a complete fool to go anywhere near Vecilius’s wife, particularly since he knew that Vecilius knew about the affair. Secondly, how would Vecilius have got him into the shrine? Tullius would’ve known that to agree to a private encounter off the beaten track would be simply asking for trouble.’

‘You got a better suggestion?’

‘No, but-’

‘Then clam up. Look. The scenario’s simple. Vecilius has spent the morning shifting the booze in the local wineshop and sounding off about his wife’s lover. He gets thrown out and on his way home he sees Tullius near Melobosis Alley.’ Then, when she opened her mouth to protest: ‘OK; maybe he was a complete fool. The point is he was there, whether you like it or not, and the logical assumption – which would be Vecilius’s as well – is that the guy was tomcatting. Vecilius straight-arms him, takes him to the shrine for a private word, there’s a frank exchange of views, and Tullius ends up stiffed. Vecilius goes back to the wineshop and gets properly stewed. Now me, I can’t see what the problem is here.’

‘All right.’ Perilla sniffed. ‘Have it your own way. Only it is a little obvious, isn’t it?’

‘Jupiter and all the gods, lady!’

‘Yes, I know. But let’s assume for the sake of argument that Vecilius wasn’t the killer. What else have you got? What about the other outraged husband? You spoke to him, too, yes?’

‘Sure. Lucilius Festus. He seemed pretty straight.’

‘Could he have done it? In terms of opportunity, I mean?’

‘Maybe. I had a talk with the local Watch Commander, and the body could’ve lain there the whole day, so we’ve no time slot. Festus claimed he took a couple of hours off in the afternoon to go to the Temple of Mercury.’

‘And did he?’

‘Possibly. But my chances of checking are zilch, because half the merchants and tradesmen in Rome were paying their respects that day. The place would’ve been heaving.’

‘What was he like as a person?’

‘I said: he seemed pretty straight, solid family type. Not the murdering kind. That was Watch Commander Memmius’s view, too.’

‘Hmm.’ Perilla was twisting a strand of her hair. ‘Perhaps all the more reason, then, if he’d found out Tullius had seduced his wife. How long had he known, by the way?’

‘Seemingly Marcia – that’s the wife – got an anonymous letter shoved under the door the day before the murder, and he’d intercepted it. The day he and Vecilius went round to alter the guy’s face for him at his office, in other words.’ I told her the story. ‘Me, I don’t think we need look far for the person who sent it. Annia told me she knew the two women’s names, and if she was pushing for a divorce – which she was – then stirring things might’ve seemed a good idea.’

‘Or it might have been Poetelius.’

‘ What? ’

Perilla shrugged. ‘It’s just as possible, in practical terms. He knew the situation as well. And he knew where Festus and Marcia lived. Did Annia know that?’

‘Why the hell would Poetelius want to blow the whistle on Tullius? Particularly since it’d set two of the company’s suppliers at a partner’s throat.’