David Wishart - Trade Secrets

‘Hi again, pal,’ I said. ‘Can you spare a minute?’

He was bent down fixing the padlock to its hasp. He straightened and turned, and there was no surprise in his face.

‘Oh, it’s you, sir,’ he said. ‘I thought it wouldn’t be long before you looked me up.’ Then, to the woman: ‘You get yourself off home, girl. I’ll follow you directly.’ She gave me a quick, curious look – the purple stripe again – nodded and left. ‘By the horse trough do you? I could do with a sit-down.’

‘Sure,’ I said. ‘Wherever you like.’

We went over to the horse trough and sat side by side on the stone lip.

‘How did he die?’ Rubrius said.

‘I told you, it’s complicated. But basically he was stabbed from behind, on a bench outside the Pollio Library in Rome.’

‘Uh-huh.’ He nodded. ‘And the family want you to find out who did it, right?’

‘Not exactly.’

I thought the answer would surprise him, but he just grunted.

‘Vinnia’s a widow,’ he said. ‘Has been for the past ten years. Her husband’s name was Manutius, Gaius Manutius, and he worked for your Marcus Correllius.’

Uh-huh; it had to be something along those lines, because I couldn’t really see the lady in the role of a jilted mistress. Mind you, it wasn’t altogether beyond the bounds of possibility; there was no accounting for personal taste, and from what I’d heard of him so far Correllius hadn’t exactly been an Adonis himself.

‘Is that so, now?’ I said. ‘Doing what?’

He hesitated. ‘Well, sir, that I can’t rightly say, and Vinnia’s never told me. That’s if she knows herself, of course. It was nothing too grand, but it brought in the silver pieces hand over fist, and no mistake. Which was how she had the money to buy the wineshop after Manutius died.’

‘You’re telling me there was something shady going on, yes?’

Another hesitation. ‘As to that, I wouldn’t like to swear,’ he said. ‘But, well, it’s more than likely, under the circumstances and given the gentleman in question. Not where Vinnia was concerned, mind, I’d not believe that for a moment. She’s a good girl, is Vinnia, hard as nails, sure. She keeps herself to herself and no mistake, like you saw, and she has a tongue like a razor. But she’s straight, straight as they come. Manutius, now, he was another thing altogether. A bit of a bad lot all round, by all accounts. She wouldn’t thank me for saying so but she’s better off without him.’

‘So what exactly happened? How did he die?’

‘There was an accident. Over at the docks.’

‘An accident?’

‘That’s the story, at any rate, and me, I couldn’t tell you no different. Vinnia, now … well, she’s always been sure it was Correllius’s doing.’

‘She say why?’

‘No. Like I said, she’s close-mouthed at the best of times, and that goes double where Manutius is concerned. But she hates Correllius like poison, that I can say.’

‘You have any details? About the accident, I mean.’

‘Nah. I never knew the man myself. I only know Vinnia through the wineshop.’

‘You know of anyone who did?’

He considered. ‘She’s talked about a Cispius once or twice. Him and Manutius worked together, and they were close mates, seemingly. The place was pretty run down when she bought it, and he did a few odd jobs for her as a favour when she was putting it to rights. Plastering and that.’

‘Where would I find him?’

‘Haven’t a clue, sir. That was before my day, and he was no spring chicken even then. He’s probably retired now, or maybe even dead himself.’ Bugger. ‘Except-’ He frowned. ‘Hold on, hold on! Let me think.’ I waited, while he stared into space. ‘There was a daughter that Vinnia mentioned once. I can’t recall her name, but she was married to a fuller with a shop up by the river near Guildsmen’s Square.’

Yeah, well, it was better than nothing. And a fuller’s shop in that part of town shouldn’t be too difficult to trace; I could give it a shot, at any rate.

‘Vinnia runs the wineshop on her own, right?’ I said. ‘No family?’

‘Not in Ostia. Not even in Italy, for all I know; she’s from Gaul originally, Narbo, I think, down in the south. Her first husband – there was one before Manutius, but I can’t even tell you his name – emigrated to Ostia with her and died a year or two later. Then she took up with Manutius, the gods know why, and remarried. She has a brother, that I do know, but he’s in the army. He signed up twenty-odd years back, so he’s in Germany now, on the Rhine with the Second Augustan, and liable to stay there.’

‘No kids?’

‘Not by the first marriage, no. She and Manutius had two, but they died young.’

‘And she didn’t think of marrying again after his accident?’ A fair question; it’d been ten years, after all, and for someone in Vinnia’s position getting by as a woman on her own wouldn’t be easy.

He shook his head. ‘No,’ he said. ‘It hasn’t been for want of asking, neither; it’s eight years since my Atellia died, and I’d’ve taken the lass on myself like a shot, still would if she’d have me.’

Uh-huh. Well, I reckoned I’d got just about all that was going at present where our taciturn wineshop lady was concerned. Not that I was complaining, mind: at least I’d got another strand to follow up, and you never knew; something might come of it in the end.

I stood up. ‘Thanks, pal. You’ve been really helpful.’

‘You’re welcome. Don’t mention it. I mean, really don’t mention it. If she found out I’d been blabbing she’d have the skin off me. And I’ve still hopes in that direction.’

I nodded. ‘Fair enough,’ I said. ‘You’ve got it, friend; my lips are sealed. And good luck with the lady, OK?’ I paused. ‘Oh – one more thing, before I go. You happen to know a guy by the name of Fundanius?’

He frowned. ‘I’ve heard of him.’

‘Businessman, right?’

‘Not the kind I’d care to do business with, or any of mine.’

‘Crooked?’

Rubrius hesitated and tugged at his ear. ‘Well, now, sir, that I wouldn’t like to say, not in so many words, like. He’s a big wheel locally, he has a finger in quite a few pies on the business side, and he’s well in with the gentlemen that run the guilds. A past president himself, as it happens, a year or two back. But the word on the street is that he can sail pretty close to the wind, and he’s not above cutting corners when he can get away with it. Him and Correllius are a pair, if you want the truth. I’d not trust either of them to tell me the time of day.’ He glanced up at me. ‘You have a reason for asking?’

‘Not particularly. It’s just when I was at Correllius’s house earlier on talking to his widow the guy showed up to offer his condolences.’

Rubrius chuckled. ‘Is that so, now?’ he said. ‘Well, there’s a turn-up!’

‘Yeah? How so?’

‘From what I’ve heard the buggers couldn’t stand each other. Famous for it. They’ve been at daggers drawn for years.’

‘Really?’

‘Sure. Personal and business both. Give either of them the chance to do the other down and they’d grab it with both hands any day of the month. I said they were a pair, but cat and dog’s more like it. Or maybe two dogs after the same bone. “Condolences”, right? Me, I’d’ve thought Fundanius was more likely to spit on Correllius’s grave.’

Uh-huh. Interesting. And it might explain Mamilia’s reaction, too, when the guy had walked in; there was no love lost there, from what I could tell. Mind you, if that was the case it didn’t explain why Fundanius had called round in the first place. Quite the reverse, in fact …