David Wishart - Trade Secrets

‘No one I can think of offhand, certainly.’ His tone was bland. ‘He had his enemies, business rivals, rather, as do I and all of us, yes, of course he did. None of them would go to that extreme. But where Pullius himself is concerned surely you’ve already asked Publius Doccius if he can shed any light? After all, he is – was, now, I suppose – poor Correllius’s right-hand man. He would be the natural person to ask.’

‘I did. Doccius had never heard of him. Nor had Mamilia, for that matter.’ I paused, then added, casually again: ‘She was closely involved with her husband’s business, wasn’t she? At least, that was the impression I got.’

‘Did you, indeed? I can’t imagine how. Naturally, as I say, I have only an outsider’s knowledge of Correllius’s affairs, but I think it’s most unlikely.’ He was frowning again, and his fingers – maybe unconsciously – were tapping the table in front of him. For all the smooth exterior, the guy was perceptibly rattled. ‘Mamilia has many excellent qualities, but she is a woman, after all. I doubt that she has much of a head for business, or very much interest in it.’

‘Yes, well, maybe you’re right.’ I’d got what I wanted, and there was no sense in pushing things past the point of safety. Time to back off; seriously back off. ‘I was probably mistaken. My wife Perilla’s the same. Lovely lady, but a head full of fluff.’

He laughed. ‘Best arrangement, I always think,’ he said. ‘My own was no different.’

Uh-huh; was , eh? Interesting, in view of the Mamilia side of things. ‘I’m sorry,’ I said. ‘You’re a widower?’

‘Divorced, thank goodness. As of eighteen months ago. It was very civilized, and quite amicable. If you’re from Rome, you’ll readily understand that these things happen.’

So; as far as the feasibility of the in-it-together theory went we could tick another box, couldn’t we? ‘Yes. Yes, I do,’ I said. ‘Best thing for all concerned, sometimes. I’m all in favour of a civilized parting of the ways myself.’ I paused, to take the weight off the next question. ‘So. If not property then what sort of business are you in? If you don’t mind my asking?’

‘This and that,’ he said. Blandly, again. ‘Like Correllius, a lot of my dealings involve the import and export trade. Which explains the friendly rivalry. And you?’

Evidently, that was all I was going to get. Which wasn’t too unexpected.

‘I’ve no head for business, I’m afraid,’ I said. ‘Hardly a better one than my wife, to be honest. I’m a bit of a dilettante, really. Some property here and there, in Rome and elsewhere, that I inherited from my grandfather. The income keeps the wolf from the door, so I’m not complaining.’

All perfectly true; he smiled slightly, and rather contemptuously. Which was absolutely fine by me. If he’d marked me down as a lightweight upper-class bubble-brain with more money than sense then I’d created the impression I wanted to create.

‘So,’ he said. ‘How long are you planning on staying in Ostia? On this occasion, at least.’

‘Oh, we’re quite open on that,’ I said. ‘Me, just as long as it takes to do everything I want to do. Or maybe, which is more likely, until I’m satisfied the investigation’s going nowhere or I get bored with it. On the other hand, Perilla’s really enjoying the break, and there’s the villa-hunting aspect of things now to think about. We’re in no particular hurry, and it’s just nice to get out of Rome for a change. Any excuse, right?’

‘Quite. Quite.’ He was completely relaxed now, and his tone of voice was just a polite smidgeon away from the outright contemptuous. ‘It’s always best not to let these things take too firm a grip and become obsessions. And if you’re not acting for a third party or have a genuine vested interest, then there isn’t really much point, is there? So what comes next?’

‘In the investigation, you mean? Actually, I haven’t really thought about that. I’ll probably just bumble around like I usually do, asking stupid questions and not listening to the answers.’

He nodded benignly: impression of bubble-headedness confirmed. ‘Then I wish you luck,’ he said. ‘It’s a strange business, as I said, but ultimately perhaps under the circumstances it’s better to let sleeping dogs lie. After all, what does it really matter? Poor Correllius is dead, and despite the curious business of the stabbing, from natural causes. It’s none of my concern, of course, but I really do think it’d be best just to draw a line.’

‘Yes. His widow feels the same way. Quite understandable. Still, I’ve got to go through the motions, if only for my own satisfaction, haven’t I?’

‘Of course you do, my dear fellow. And it’s highly commendable. Needless to say, should you find the explanation I’d be very grateful – and interested – to know what it was. And it goes without saying that if I can help in any way-’

‘I’ll be sure to ask.’ I stood up. ‘Well, thanks for your patience with me. I’ve disturbed you long enough.’

He stood up too. ‘Not at all, Valerius Corvinus, it was a pleasure. In fact, if your wife doesn’t mind a bachelor’s establishment she and you must come to dinner one evening before you leave. Oh … but I was forgetting. I promised to give you the contact details for the agent handling the Rusticellius let. If you can wait just a moment-’

‘No, that’s OK,’ I said. ‘Like I told you, it’s only an idea at present. We’ll take a stroll over there within the next few days and have a look at the place from the outside, see what my wife thinks. Plenty of time to contact the agent when we decide we’re interested.’

‘Very well. Don’t leave it too long, mind. It really is a first-class bargain, and it’s bound to be snapped up quickly.’ He held out his hand. ‘Delighted to meet you properly. Enjoy your stay, and don’t forget the dinner invitation. We’ll leave it open. Any day suits me, just send one of your slaves over to say you’re coming.’

We shook, and I left.

Yeah, that had gone OK, in the end. And there had been some interesting scraps of food for thought.

I was making my way round the corner of the villa towards the gate in the wall when I happened to glance in the direction of the other wing. There was a door in the side, and as I looked it opened and a man came out. He saw me, did a double-take, and ducked back quickly inside, shutting the door behind him, but not before I’d seen who it was.

Doccius.

Well, well, well.

So. Time to dot the i’s and cross the t’s before we sat down and had a really hard think about how to go about things from here, and if that meant fishing for red herrings, maybe landing one or two, then so be it. Starting with the Vinnia side of things.

Oh, sure, the coincidence of the two dockyard accidents – Tullius’s and Vinnia’s ex-husband, Manutius’s – might just be that, a pure coincidence, especially since they were ten years apart; but the fact that the name Correllius figured in both of them lifted the thing just that necessary smidgeon clear of the bracket. If I was lucky, a talk with Manutius’s old pal Cispius, who’d worked for Correllius himself, might throw up some useful information. I needed badly to talk to someone on the inside, and that wasn’t likely to happen any other way, was it? The explanation of why Gaius Tullius had been stiffed lay here, at the Ostian end, I’d bet my last copper piece on that; the business with the Porpoise and its master’s brother Sextus Nigrinus – that bastard I knew I hadn’t seen the last of, unfortunately, but we’d cross that particular bridge when we came to it – made it a virtual certainty. How Correllius fitted in, mind, barring that his name was on the manifest as the cargo’s owner and that he’d been crooked as a Suburan dice game, I hadn’t the faintest idea as yet; but fit in he did, sure as eggs is eggs. It was just a question, as usual, of furkling around in the dark and seeing what I could turn up.