David Wishart - Trade Secrets

‘Mmm?’

‘You said, “First of all”. When you told me none of it makes sense.’

‘Oh, yes. Correllius’s stabbing itself. I’m sorry, dear, but that doesn’t seem to fit in in any way whatsoever. Not with the Porpoise business, certainly, because if Correllius was part of the scam, as he would have to be, then why on earth should Nigrinus kill him? Or Doccius, or any of them?’

I frowned; yeah, she was absolutely right, and to be fair I’d been dodging the issue myself. If the guy’s death – or at least planned death – was connected with the trade scam, and so with Tullius’s, then I couldn’t for the life of me see why or how.

‘Maybe it isn’t connected,’ I said. ‘Not with the Tullius side of things, anyway. It could just’ve been a coincidence of timing.’ Then, when she opened her mouth to say something: ‘Oh, sure, my money’s still on Nigrinus as being the hitman, because it keeps things nice and tidy, but I reckon we have a parallel plot here. For whatever reason – sexual attraction or good business practice – the guy’s wife and his rival Fundanius decided that the guy had outlived his usefulness, and like I say these people play rough. The original plan is to set him up – probably through Doccius – with a phoney business meeting where Nigrinus can take him out; minimum risk, because the thing’s done well away from Ostia and the phantom Pullius can disappear into the long grass, while everyone concerned can hold up their hands and deny all knowledge. Only then things go wrong: the killing turns out not to have been necessary after all, but the result is that shortly afterwards a nosey Roman shows up at the door and insists on an investigation. Complicated by the fact that there is an eyewitness who can give a description, and that the nosey Roman in question is also the guy shoving his nose into the other killing their hitman’s recently been involved in. Hence Nigrinus’s orders to take me out. That make better sense to you?’

‘Yes, actually, it does. Complete sense.’

‘No comeback?’

‘No. None whatsoever.’

Glory and trumpets! Well, there was always a first time. I grinned and finished my wine.

‘So. What’s the next step?’ she said.

‘Perilla, I don’t know,’ I said. ‘If the theory holds good then like it or not the case is stitched up as far as I can take it. Nigrinus is dead, so if he was the actual perp in both instances then he’s out of things. The same goes for Correllius, if he was the one who gave the original order to kill Tullius. Mamilia and Doccius could well have been involved, sure, they probably were, particularly him, but how I’d go about proving that I’ve no idea.’

‘There’s still the other Nigrinus brother. Titus, was it? The captain of the Porpoise .’

I blinked. Hey! Right! I’d mentally factored him out of things, because he wasn’t in Ostia to talk to, and if anyone still above ground knew the ins and outs of the Tullius business, then Titus Nigrinus was the lad. The Porpoise had been headed for Aleria in Corsica, or so the clerk in the shipping office had told me. No great distance, in other words. It could’ve been a blind, of course, on the captain’s part – like I say, I didn’t have any details, yet, of what the trading scam involved, so he could’ve given a false destination – or Corsica might only have been an intermediate stop; but if not, and it was a round trip, then he might well be back in Ostia by now. I doubted he’d be very cooperative, quite the reverse, particularly after his brother’s death, but beggars can’t be choosers, and he was the only game left in town. Maybe I could lean on him a little.

Clearly, another chat with the harbour-office clerk was in order.

I stood up and kissed the lady full on the lips.

‘Perilla, you’re a genius!’ I said. ‘I’ll find out tomorrow if he’s around yet. Meanwhile, you fancy a walk?’

‘Where to?’

‘Just a bit down the coast road. Fundanius mentioned a villa that was up for rent. I thought we might take a look at it.’

‘Marcus, what is going on?’ she said suspiciously. ‘Does this have anything to do with the case? Because if so-’

‘Uh-uh. Cross my heart, absolutely nothing whatsoever. I just thought you might be interested, that’s all. Plus it’s a nice day, there’s still plenty of it left, and you could do with the exercise.’

She laughed, and stood up. ‘Very well. But what brought this on?’

‘It just seemed a good idea, that’s all. And it’d be nice to have somewhere of our own to go when Rome gets too hot.’

‘It’s an excellent idea. Marcus Corvinus, you’re getting old and staid.’

‘Bugger that.’

‘True.’

We went to see the villa.

I set out for the port the next day.

If it came to twisting arms, I was in a better position with Nigrinus Senior than I would’ve been with Mamilia, or even Doccius: Tullius’s death had definitely been murder, it was being officially investigated by the Watch in Rome, and I could make a reasonable prima facie case to link it with the Nigrini brothers. Besides, there was the almost certainty of the trading scam, whatever form it took; that, I could use the threat of as well if a little extra muscle was needed. I just hoped that I’d have the opportunity.

The walk from the Laurentian Gate took me up the Hinge and through Market Square, passing Vinnia’s wineshop on the way. I’d got pretty much all I needed to know in that direction from old Cispius, sure, and it’d been a red herring in the end, at that, but the wine had been good – like I said, you didn’t see Veian all that often – and a quick stopover while I was in the neighbourhood wouldn’t do any harm.

I opened the door and went in. No Vinnia this time, just a big guy his late forties with short-cropped hair greying at the temples, sweeping the floor with a broom.

He leaned the broom against the wall and went behind the counter.

‘Yes, sir, what can I get you?’ he said. His eyes flicked to the stripe on my tunic, and I saw them narrow.

Uh-huh. Interesting; very interesting. And I could see the family resemblance; he and his sister were alike as two peas. If she’d been built like a carthorse and had muscles like ship’s hawsers.

‘A cup of your Veian would be fine, pal,’ I said easily, going over to the counter and taking a few coins from my belt-pouch.

He reached for a cup, hefted the wine flask, and poured in silence. I laid the coins down.

‘No Vinnia today?’ I said.

‘No.’ Nothing else, just that; chattiness clearly ran in the family. His eyes were still fixed on the purple stripe.

I picked up the cup and sipped.

‘You’ll be her brother, right?’ I said.

‘Gaius Vinnius. Yeah.’ He turned round and replaced the flask in its rack. Obviously I was being left to make the running here.

‘I heard you were in Germany,’ I said. ‘Serving with the Second Augusta.’

‘That’s right.’ He turned back. This time the eyes looked straight at me, challenging. ‘I was. Centurion in the Third Cohort. Got my discharge a couple of months ago.’

‘Back here for good?’

‘No. I’ve a family over there, in Belgica; Augusta Rauricorum. Wife and two kids, German girl; we got married properly after I was discharged. I’m just back on a visit.’

‘A long way to come just for a visit, isn’t it?’ I took another sip of my wine.

He shrugged. ‘I haven’t seen my sister for over twenty years. This was the only chance I’d get. Besides, I’m taking her back out with me when I go. We’ve got the room, and there’s nothing to keep her here.’

‘True,’ I said. I was still holding the cup. ‘Particularly when the guy responsible for killing her husband is dead.’