David Wishart - Trade Secrets

‘Look forward to it. Say hello to Perilla for me.’ He turned to go, then turned back. ‘And Corvinus. One last warning: no heroics, agreed? If you can’t be smart then be sensible.’

‘You’ve got it.’

He left. I finished my own wine, took the cups back to the counter, and set off for the villa.

I got back in time for a quick steam in the bathhouse before the dinner gong went. Then, changed into a fresh tunic, I joined Perilla in the garden. Bathyllus had had the local minions carry out the requisite furniture, and he was currently supervising the ferrying of the starters.

‘We eating al fresco then, little guy?’ I asked him as I stretched out on the other couch.

‘That was my idea, Marcus,’ Perilla said. ‘It’s a lovely evening, and it’d be a shame to eat inside. Besides, it’s part of the holiday.’

‘Fair enough.’ I held up my wine-cup for Bathyllus to pour. ‘So what are we having tonight, Bathyllus?’

‘Braised chicken with a pungent ginger dressing, pureed greens with a lovage-savory sauce, and a chickpea and fennel casserole, sir. Meton brought the ingredients in the coach with us from Rome.’

Yeah; that made sense: Meton likes to do his market shopping first thing, as soon as the stalls open for the day. And he would’ve as soon sent out for a takeaway from the nearest cookshop as trust the local staff to order in before we arrived. He might be a surly bugger when he liked, which was most of the time, but where food was concerned he was a professional to his grubby fingernails.

‘Great.’ I reached out for a quail’s egg and dipped it in fish sauce.

‘So.’ Perilla did the same. ‘How did your afternoon go?’

I gave her the rundown. ‘The Correllius menage is a weird set-up. And my informants – Agron and my butcher pal – were pretty much agreed that the guy was crooked as they come, or the next thing to it.’

‘It’s odd that his wife wasn’t interested in finding out who stabbed him, isn’t it?’

‘Yeah, well, there could be several reasons for that. Barring the simplest one that she’s just a cold-hearted bitch.’ I leaned over for the wine jug and topped up my cup. ‘Which she is, no question. Mind you, from what I know of Correllius they weren’t exactly a well-matched couple. He had a good twenty years on her for a start, and he was a real barrel of lard, while she wouldn’t’ve been out of place at a Top Five Hundred get-together. Soignee . That the Greek word?’

‘It’ll do.’

‘Right. That lady was soignee in spades.’

Perilla selected a fried broad-bean rissole. ‘Do you think she might’ve been behind the stabbing herself?’ she said.

‘It’s the most obvious explanation, sure.’ I took a swallow of the wine: if Meton had brought along a stock of culinary supplies with us, I’d had Bathyllus do the same on the liquid side, and we were well-fixed. Oh, the villa would have a pretty good cellar, no question, and Fulvina’s husband would keep it stocked, but you can take cadging too far. Besides, I wouldn’t altogether trust a guy whose metier was Aqueducts and Sewers to have a good nose for wine. ‘The fact that he hadn’t actually been murdered and the authorities weren’t interested in an investigation would be a godsend to her. And we wouldn’t have to look far for the actual perp. His exec, Doccius, fits the maid’s description perfectly, Mamilia clearly has him eating out of her hand, and equally clearly he’s not too cut up about his boss’s death either.’

Perilla set the remaining half of the rissole down on her plate.

‘You’re saying that Doccius and the missing businessman, Marcus Pullius, are the same person?’ she said.

‘Yeah. Why not?’

‘But, Marcus, dear, that’s impossible!’

‘Oh? How so?’

‘Well, obviously it is! Correllius saw Doccius every day. He was hardly likely to get away with arranging a meeting with him under another name, now, was he?’

‘Hang on, lady. We don’t know that Correllius set the meeting up with this Pullius guy personally, or even that he’d ever clapped eyes on him. He might’ve done it at second hand. In which case as his deputy Doccius could well have made the arrangements himself.’

‘That’s hardly likely. Not if whatever deal Pullius wanted, or claimed he wanted, to discuss was important enough to warrant a sick old man travelling all the way to Rome in person. Either he’d have been personally involved at the start or sent Doccius in his stead.’ Perilla dipped the second half of the rissole into the fish sauce. ‘Besides, Doccius couldn’t have known that Correllius would fall asleep – call it that – on the Pollio bench. The chances were that he’d be in full possession of his faculties when they met face-to-face, as they’d have to do, and he’d certainly know him then.’ She popped the rissole into her mouth and chewed. ‘No, it’s just silly.’

The lady was absolutely right, of course; put like that it was silly. Still-

‘OK,’ I said. ‘Maybe Pullius wasn’t Doccius himself. But the principle holds good. Doccius – with or without Mamilia’s collusion – could’ve arranged the phoney meeting to manoeuvre Correllius into a position where he was on his own and they could take him out in relative safety, using a hitman. The phantom Pullius. After all, why Rome anyway, if it wasn’t to get the guy off his usual patch?’

‘But why should Doccius – or Mamilia, for that matter – want Correllius dead?’

I sighed. ‘Come on, Perilla! Doccius was Correllius’s right-hand man, from the looks of things he’s the one actually running the business on a day-to-day basis, and he’s a good-looking devil in himself. Mamilia’s not all that much older than he is, she may not be a stunner, exactly, but she’s well set-up all the same and knows it, and she was married to a fat sixty-odd-year-old slob. Probably a seriously rich fat sixty-odd-year-old slob, at that. Do the maths yourself.’

‘Correllius was also not a well man.’

‘According to Doccius, sure, but-’

‘Marcus, he died a natural death, and Clarus was of the opinion that that wasn’t surprising in the case of a man of his age and in his physical condition.’

‘OK,’ I said grudgingly. ‘So?’

‘So if it were a case of dead man’s shoes, sexual attraction, whatever, then why go to the trouble of murdering him? After all, the situation would resolve itself before very long. It just wouldn’t be worth the risk. I think we can give Doccius the benefit of the doubt here, don’t you?’

True. At least on present showing. Bugger.

We’d finished with the nibbles, and Bathyllus was wheeling in the main course. I helped myself to some of the braised chicken and the pureed greens.

‘Yeah, well,’ I said. ‘The Mamilia-Doccius pairing’s too good just to let slide. And we’re only at the start of things here.’ I passed her the chicken, and she spooned some onto her plate with a helping of the chickpea casserole. Not a great one for greens, Perilla.

‘Fair enough,’ she said. ‘Leave that aspect of it for the moment. What else have you got?’

‘The most interesting thing is a guy by the name of Fundanius. Publius Fundanius. Turns out he’s a crook as well and that he and Correllius had been at daggers drawn for years.’

‘Hmm.’ She held up her cup for Bathyllus to pour in some of the fruit juice and mint concoction she was currently favouring. ‘Same objection, surely. If the man hadn’t gone the length of murder before, then why do it now?’

‘I don’t know, lady. Like I say, it’s early days to be theorizing. Maybe the situation had changed somehow recently, or Correllius had done something that really got up his nose. Maybe he’d just got out of the wrong side of bed one morning and decided he might as well stiff the guy and be done with him. In any case, Fundanius is a front runner, and from what I saw he might well be up for it.’