David Wishart - Trade Secrets

‘Was it Fundanius?’ Then, when I shook my head: ‘Doccius?’

Interesting again; she was no fool, this lady. And it suggested that she’d been up front about the bastard having been got rid of. I added it to my list of things to think about.

‘No,’ I said. ‘Believe me, you wouldn’t know the guy, or even recognize his name, so that side of things isn’t important. Like you keep saying, there was no murder, your husband was dead already. All I’ll tell you is that, yes, the man thought at the time he’d murdered him, he even thought so when I faced him with it, but it wasn’t a killing for … well, call them for the sake of argument business reasons.’ She had the grace to blink. ‘It was purely personal. He did it out of revenge. Not for something that your husband did to him but on behalf of one of his family.’

I’d used the feminine form, of course, and she was staring at me.

‘A woman?’ she said.

‘Uh … yeah,’ I said cautiously. ‘His sister, as it happens. But it wasn’t what-’

Completely unexpectedly, Mamilia laughed, and she went on laughing. All I could do was look on amazed until she finally stopped.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said when she’d finished and dried her eyes with her mantle. ‘That was quite unforgivable. But Marcus ? You never knew my husband, Corvinus, so you won’t see how funny it is. I never knew he had it in him. And there was always such a lot of Marcus for something to be in. Such a terrible lot, even when he was younger.’ She giggled again; it was like watching a caryatid have hysterics. ‘I am so glad you told me. That is possibly the first laugh I’ve had out of the man since I married him. Thank you.’

‘Uh … you’re welcome,’ I said, getting up. Strange woman, Mamilia. Well, if she got a kick – in whatever form – out of the thought that her husband had been a philanderer and been murdered, or practically murdered, as a result, then who was I to disillusion her?

On the other side – the black side – she must’ve really hated the guy. Or no, not hated; hated was too positive. Despised came close, but I wondered if even that was too strong. I suspected that Mamilia hadn’t been totally conscious of her husband’s existence as part of her life. Which was sad, but it explained a lot. It explained everything, really.

Mamilia had stood up too. ‘So you’re off back to Rome?’ she said; she was almost chatty now.

‘No, not straight away,’ I said cautiously. ‘I’ve got one or two other things to see to before that happens.’

‘Oh, yes, the villa. Of course. I hope you find it suits. And naturally, if you do find yourself an Ostian resident, albeit a part-time one, you must let me know. I think we might come to like each other.’

‘I’ll do that,’ I lied; caryatids have never been my bag, particularly ones prone to sudden giggling fits or bouts of hysteria. And I still wasn’t hundred per cent certain of Mamilia’s bona fides where the case was concerned. Eighty per cent, sure, but still.

She saw me out.

So; a fairly short morning, but one full of incident. And if we had to do a drastic rethink where the overall picture of things was concerned, at least we’d got some of the dead wood cleared away.

I went back to the villa, where Bathyllus’s minions were just laying the outside table for lunch. Me, if I’m out and about, I usually settle for a quick snack at a wineshop counter, and because lunch is made up of cold leftovers from dinner the day before, Meton’s perfectly OK about that. Perilla, though, tends to go for the sit-down variety. When I came through onto the terrace she was ensconced in her favourite wickerwork chair with her book and a stiff pre-lunch barley-water and honey.

‘Back early again, Marcus,’ she said when I’d kissed her. ‘This is getting to be a habit.’

‘I’ve got news,’ I said. ‘The stabbing business is solved.’

She laid the book down on the side table. ‘Really? That’s marvellous! You’re certain?’

‘Hundred per cent cast-iron sure. I’ve seen the guy himself, our elusive Pullius, and he gave me the whole story.’ I told her about Gaius Vinnius. ‘So we can forget about that aspect of things. The shipping scam, though, that’s another matter. There’ve been developments there too. I called in at the harbour office and seemingly the Porpoise went down before it reached port.’

‘Did it, indeed?’ she said. ‘Interesting. You don’t think it was an accident?’

‘The jury’s out on that one, but my gut feeling says no. Absolutely, no. According to the clerk, the ship sank just short of the Corsican coast and all the crew made it safely ashore.’

‘Convenient.’

‘Right. The only problem – and it’s a clincher – is that if the sinking was done deliberately then it makes no sense.’

‘Why not?’

‘Come on, Perilla! Nigrinus owned the ship and Correllius owned the cargo. The whole cargo. When the Porpoise went down they’d both’ve lost out in spades, however you slice it. Nigrinus would’ve lost his ship and Correllius would be down the value of eight hundred amphoras’ worth of wine and oil. That’s no fleabite, however big a businessman you are.’ Something was niggling at the back of my mind; I reached for it, but it wouldn’t come. ‘Just the idea of it’s silly. As things stand, they’d be cutting their own noses off for no reason.’

‘So if they did do it, then why?’

I sighed. ‘Search me. Maybe the sky is full of flying pigs and it was a genuine accident after all. We’ll just have to-’

‘Hey, Corvinus. I was hoping I’d catch you.’

I looked round. Agron was coming through the peristyle opening towards us, Bathyllus hovering behind him.

‘Oh, hi, pal,’ I said. ‘Yeah, well, you have. Sit down, take the weight off your sandals. Bathyllus? The wine, little guy.’ He buttled out. ‘You staying for lunch?’

‘Sure.’ He pulled up another of the wicker chairs. ‘Hi, Perilla.’

‘This a social visit?’

‘Partly,’ he said. ‘I wanted to see for myself how the other half live.’ He looked around. ‘Nice place.’

‘Yeah, it is. Only partly?’

‘Uh-huh. You’ll be glad to know I’ve finally managed to trace your Gaius Siddius for you. The crane operator.’

I sat up straight. ‘Have you, indeed?’

‘Yeah. Turns out he’s working for one of the local stonemasons. Just along the road from my yard, as it happens, so I’m kicking myself I didn’t find him sooner.’

‘That’s OK.’ Great! Siddius was someone I really had to talk to. ‘Absolutely OK. If you give me directions, I’ll go and see him this afternoon.’

‘No problem. In fact, I’ll take you there myself when I go back. I left Sextus minding the store, but like I told you we’re pretty busy at present, so we’re working flat out.’

‘Right.’ Bathyllus came back with the wine, and two cups. I waited while he poured. ‘By the way, I should’ve thanked you for the babysitter. You were right; it could’ve been nasty.’

He shrugged. ‘Don’t mention it. Big Titus enjoyed the break. He said it made a change from hefting cement bags. And at least it meant that that bastard Nigrinus is off your back permanently.’

‘Yeah.’ I glanced at Perilla; she was looking pretty tight-lipped, but she didn’t say anything. ‘True.’

Agron took a sip of his wine. ‘So. How’s the case going?’

‘Not too badly. You interrupted a bit of head-scratching; we’re not there yet, not by a long chalk, but things are moving. And a chat with this Siddius character should help a lot, or I hope it will, anyway. At least quite a slice of the Correllius side of things has cleared itself up. Just this morning, in fact.’