David Wishart - Trade Secrets

I held out my hand, and he shook it, automatically. Then I walked out, leaving him staring.

Well, so much for that aspect of the case. Rubrius would be disappointed, mind.

So. Onward and upward. We’d cleared up the Correllius side of things, at least where the stabbing was concerned, although naturally there was still the far more important matter of the scam. Over to the harbour offices for my chat with the clerk re the Porpoise and her captain.

I’d have to fit in another visit to Mamilia as well, of course. Not that I’d blow the whistle on Gaius Vinnius; there was no point, because for one reason or another the lady clearly couldn’t care less who’d stuck the knife into her husband, and I reckoned I didn’t owe her anything along those lines. But however she figured otherwise in this case – and she wasn’t off the hook yet, let alone Doccius and Fundanius, not by a long chalk – I owed her a mental apology: in part, at least, the theory about what was going on was out the window.

I carried on up Tiber Gate Road and through the gate itself to the main docks and the harbour office. The same freedman clerk I’d talked to on the other two occasions was on duty behind the desk. He gave me a rather strained smile.

‘Ah,’ he said. ‘The gentleman who was asking about the Porpoise .’

‘Yeah. You’ve got a good memory, pal.’

‘Never forget a face, sir.’ The brittle cheerfulness in his voice suggested that he’d gladly forget mine, given the chance. ‘How can I help you this time?’

‘Same subject, really. She back in port from Corsica yet?’

‘No. Nor likely to be. She went down just off Palla, in the south of the island.’

I stared at him. ‘She did what ? ’

‘Sank, sir. The crew, I understand, all managed to reach land safely, but the ship herself was lost. It happens, even at the best time of the sailing year.’

‘How do you know?’

‘Another ship calling in at Aleria brought the news a few days ago. I forget the name. Faces, yes; names, no.’

Gods! ‘What about the captain? Titus Nigrinus?’

‘I told you, sir.’ The clerk was getting just a little tetchy. ‘He made it to shore along with the rest of the crew. I’d imagine that he’s still in Corsica, because he’d have to notify whoever was taking delivery of the cargo and make his own report. No doubt he’ll get passage on another ship when he’s completed the formalities at that end, if he hasn’t already done so, but that’s his own affair. I have and would have no knowledge of the matter.’

‘Those are all the details you have?’

‘For the present, yes. But as I say it’s no business of mine.’

‘You have an address for him? Just in case he is back?’

‘No, sir. That’s not information that we keep on record. I’m sorry.’

Jupiter on wheels! ‘Fine,’ I said. ‘Thanks for your trouble.’

‘No trouble, sir. Any time.’

I left. So, that was that. The question was, was the sinking part of the scam, or was it a genuine accident? Like the man had said, these things happen, and I didn’t know enough about the ins and outs of the shipping trade or the dangers involved in that part of the Med to know how likely an accident was. The fact that the entire crew had escaped drowning, mind, was more than a tad suspicious: a lot of sailors, I knew, made a point of not learning to swim, because then if their ship went down at least they’d die quickly.

Complication on complication. It meant that I wasn’t going to be having my little talk with Titus Nigrinus in the near future, anyway.

So. Since there didn’t seem to be all that many options available I might as well pay my call on Mamilia. I retraced my steps to Tiber Gate and the centre of town.

The big bouncer was still on door duty at the house.

‘The mistress at home, pal? I said.

‘Yeah. You want to see her?’

‘That’s the general idea, yes.’

‘What was the name again?’

‘Corvinus. Valerius Corvinus.’ Then, as he turned to go in: ‘Hang on a minute. Publius Fundanius. He been round again since I was here last?’

He gave me a look like he was a septuagenarian spinster I’d shown a dirty picture to. ‘No. Orders from the mistress was if the bastard showed his face I was to laugh in it and tell him to piss off.’

Interesting. And it didn’t sit well with what was left of the theory, either. I was getting the distinct impression that we’d been ploughing the wrong furrow here altogether. ‘Fair enough,’ I said.

‘Business, was it?’

‘Business’ll do.’

‘OK. Wait there.’

I waited there. Five minutes later, he came back out.

‘The mistress’ll see you,’ he said, and stepped aside.

She was sitting in the atrium. Not quite so dolled up this time, but still wearing a mantle that was the height of fashion.

‘Well, Valerius Corvinus,’ she said. You could’ve used the tone to pickle eggs. ‘You’re still here, I see.’

‘Yeah. Evidently. In fact, we’re thinking of taking the let of a villa of our own along the coast. The Rusticellius place. You know it?’

‘Not offhand, no.’ She didn’t sound exactly thrilled with the prospect.

‘Your friend Fundanius recommended it to me when I dropped in on him yesterday morning,’ I said.

That got me a glare. ‘Publius Fundanius is no friend of mine,’ she snapped. Forget the pickled eggs; make that mummies, with an extra dose of natron thrown in for good measure.

‘Business associate, then.’

‘Not that either. And if he told you, or implied, any differently then it was an outright lie.’

Hmm. That came across as genuine, particularly after what I’d heard from the Last of the Titans at the front door. Either she was playing a very close game really, really well or the theory – what poor ragged tatters were left of it – was definitely up the creek. ‘Strange,’ I said. ‘I could’ve sworn I saw your man Doccius on the premises as I was leaving. I wondered if you’d maybe sent him over there for some reason.

Her face … set . That was the only word for it. The expression on it was pure concrete. ‘Publius Doccius,’ she said, ‘is no longer in my employ, or a member of this household. You may well have seen him at Fundanius’s, since I know nothing of his whereabouts. He may just as well be there as anywhere else.’

I tried not to let the surprise show on my face. ‘Your doing, or his?’ I said.

Another glare, hundred-candelabra strength. ‘Valerius Corvinus, that is absolutely none of your business,’ she said. ‘But since you ask, at mine. I found that he had been … not strictly honest.’ I had to stop a smile. ‘Over a considerable period.’

‘You care to give me some examples?’

‘I most certainly would not. I told you, it is no business of yours. However, it involved the company’s finances.’ She straightened her mantle with a savage jerk of her hand. ‘Apropos of which. Why exactly are you here? I said: my husband was not murdered, and I regard the matter of his stabbing as closed. I can’t see what other business you’d have with me.’

Couldn’t she? Well, maybe not after all; that news about Doccius leaving had been a facer, and no mistake. At the very least, it needed thinking about.

Unless, of course, he hadn’t left at all, as such, and she was still playing games …

‘Actually, Mamilia, I came to tell you just that,’ I said mildly. ‘I know now who stabbed your husband and why.’

She was rocked, I could see that. And, despite herself, curious.

‘Tell me,’ she snapped.

‘Uh-uh.’ I shook my head. ‘That wasn’t part of the deal. Quite the reverse. But I didn’t think it was altogether fair just to go back to Rome and leave you thinking the mystery was unsolved.’