David Wishart - Trade Secrets

‘Sure. Easiest thing in the world. It’s too late today, but I’ll go round to the harbour master’s office first thing tomorrow morning.’

Perhaps we were on to a winner after all.

I walked into the harbour office bright and early next day, just after it opened. Everything hinged on the answer to one question, but I was pretty sure now what that would be. Or at least that it would be one of two possibilities.

I found the clerk I’d talked to before at his desk. The guy didn’t exactly look over the moon to see me, mind. Not that I blamed him.

‘Good morning yet again, sir,’ he said. ‘And how perchance may I help you today?’

Sarcastic as hell. But in the mood I was in sarcasm slid off me like water from a duck’s back. ‘It’s about the Porpoise again,’ I said. ‘I was wondering if you could give me the name of the owner. If he’s different from the ship’s captain, that is. And an address for him, if you’ve got it.’

‘Nothing easier, sir. It’ll be entered on the file I looked out for you previously. Unless, under the circumstances, it’s been destroyed, as it may well have been.’ Bugger; I hadn’t thought of that! Oh, gods, no; please, please, no! ‘If you’ll just wait a moment, I’ll go and check.’

He went off, and I spent the next five minutes biting my nails. Then he came back holding the document. I breathed a sigh of relief. Thank heavens for bureaucratic inertia.

‘Here you are, sir,’ he said. ‘The Porpoise , ninety tons when it was a viable proposition.’ He chuckled: obviously a clerical in-joke. ‘Captain, Titus Nigrinus. Owner …’

He told me the name. Well, well, well: bullseye!

‘I’ve only an office address for him, I’m afraid,’ the clerk said. ‘Will that do? It’s in Rome, naturally, the gentleman being Roman.’

‘Yeah. Yeah, that’ll be fine.’

He told me that, as well. Double bullseye! Case closed, barring the mopping-up.

‘Thanks, pal,’ I said. ‘I’m grateful.’ That was an understatement, if ever there was one. ‘You’ve been really, really helpful.’

‘Don’t mention it.’

‘You mind if I take that with me?’ I pointed at the flimsy he was holding.

‘Not at all. As I said, it would have been destroyed in any case.’

‘Thanks.’ I took it and tucked it into my belt. I was turning away when another thought struck me. ‘Oh; one last question,’ I said, ‘and I’m out of your hair for good.’

He sighed. ‘Really, sir?’

‘Yeah. I absolutely guarantee it. You know if anyone else was in here after the same information? It would’ve been the day the ship was being loaded.’

He was frowning. ‘Yes, actually, now you mention it, there was,’ he said. ‘I can’t give you his name, though; I told you, I’m not too good with names, but faces I do remember. He was Roman, too, by the look of him. Youngish, smart dresser. The sort the ladies might take a fancy to, if you know what I mean. A friend of yours? Business colleague, perhaps?’

‘No, not exactly.’ I’d never seen Tullius in the flesh, so the description didn’t tell me much; but it’d been him, all right, I was as certain of that as of the next day’s sunrise, and it explained everything. If I needed further explanation at this point, which I didn’t. ‘Perfect. Thanks again for your help, friend. I’ll see you around.’ I caught the look on his face. ‘Or perhaps not.’

‘Goodbye, sir. Have a nice day.’

I left.

Back to Rome, ASAP. Perilla would be disappointed to cut short the holiday, sure, but into every life a little rain must fall. And we might well take that villa.

The case was cracked wide open.

Next day I left Perilla organizing her more leisurely return, sent a skivvy round to Agron’s to apologize for cancelling the dinner invitation – I doubted that, under the circumstances, Fundanius’s to me still held good, so that one I didn’t bother about – and rode straight back to Rome.

I had a couple of bread-and-butter arrangements to make before I confronted Tullius’s killer. The first of these was to call in on Gaius Memmius, the Aventine Watch Commander who’d been handling the case, explain things to him, and borrow a couple of his squaddies, including the one who’d originally been dispatched to the scene of the crime. I’d only get one shot at this, and I wasn’t taking any chances.

The Shrine of Melobosis in the alleyway off Trigemina Gate Street was exactly as I’d left it the last time I’d been there; the little bunch of wild flowers – withered, now – lay undisturbed where I’d put them on her altar, and it didn’t look like anyone had been inside the gate since. Not the courting couple who’d found the body, certainly: they’d’ve gone somewhere else for their evening meetings.

Sad.

I swept the top of the altar clear with my hand, filled the lamp from the small bottle of oil I’d brought with me, lit it with a fire striker, ditto, and burned a pinch or two of incense: there’d been a strong sea connection in this case, and who was I to say that a sea-nymph like Melobosis hadn’t been helping out behind the scenes? At any rate, a drop of oil and a couple of pinches of incense wouldn’t break me, and I reckoned I owed the lady something, at least. Just on the off-chance.

The two squaddies had been watching me curiously. I turned and went over to the right-hand wall, directly under one of the buildings which flanked the shrine precinct.

‘This was where the body was lying, right?’ I said to the guy who’d been there before.

‘Yeah.’ He pointed. ‘Down there. Just clear of the wall.’

Uh-huh; I could still see the traces in the long, partially flattened grass. I looked up at the building; there was a window two floors directly above us. Check. It fitted, all the way along the line. Last box well and truly ticked.

‘OK,’ I said. ‘Let’s go and get it over with.’

The address the clerk at the harbour office had given me was on the second floor. We climbed the stairs. I pushed open the door and went in.

‘Good morning, sir. What can I-?’ The chief clerk in the outer office froze when he saw the squaddies behind me. The other clerks gaped, pens poised.

‘The boss around, pal?’ I said.

He swallowed. ‘Yes, sir. I’ll just see if he’s free.’

‘No, that’s OK. We can manage.’ I pushed past him and opened the communicating door.

Quintus Annius was at his desk in front of the window. If I’d gone over and looked through it and down, I’d’ve seen Melobosis’s shrine.

‘Corvinus, this is a surprise,’ he said. He smiled at the squaddies. ‘How can I help you?’

‘You killed Gaius Tullius,’ I said. ‘Or maybe your pal Doccius did.’

The smile disappeared. He stared at me. ‘That’s nonsense,’ he said. ‘Who the hell is Doccius?’

‘Uh-uh. It’s not nonsense. And you know who Doccius is perfectly well.’ There was a stool next to me. I pulled it up and sat down while the squaddies stationed themselves either side of the door. ‘You want to tell me the story yourself, or should I save you the trouble?’

He leaned back against the wall. ‘This is silly,’ he said.

I shrugged. ‘OK. Have it your way. Let’s start with the Porpoise .’ His eyelids twitched, but he just stared at me. ‘Captain Titus Nigrinus. You’re her owner, for what that’s worth, because she was a worm-eaten tub that was held together by no more than spit and a lick of paint. Which, basically, was the whole idea, because the Porpoise is at the bottom of the sea off Corsica. Or rather, close enough to Corsica for Nigrinus to have got himself and his crew safely ashore.’