David Wishart: Trade Secrets

‘So what’s your problem?’ I said. ‘The safety net or the tightrope?’

Poetelius didn’t smile. ‘Very good, Corvinus. The tightrope. I told you: Gaius effectively controlled the company’s finances. He also, by extension, had the final say where suppliers were concerned. I drew up the contracts and worked out the profit margins, certainly, but he did the actual hiring and firing. We’ve been having complaints from customers recently about the quality and general saleability of the goods we’re sending them. Some – quite a number, in fact – have taken their business elsewhere, which means the momentum’s gone, or going at least. To change the metaphor, we’ve been living on our fat.’

‘So what you’re saying is that Tullius was choosing the wrong suppliers.’

‘Yes. Or rather, from a list of possibles, not choosing the best available.’

‘And why would he do that, now?’

Poetelius’s eyes shifted. ‘Gaius wasn’t really a businessman, a proper one, I mean. His judgement was flawed, and he made mistakes. That can happen to anyone in the trade from time to time, of course, but in Gaius’s case it happened too regularly not to matter. And as I said the final decision regarding suppliers was his.’

‘Come on, pal! Give! There was more to it than that, right?’

A pause; a long one. ‘Yes. Yes, there was. But I’m afraid I can’t-’

‘Did it have anything to do with his women?’

Poetelius looked startled. ‘You know about them?’

‘Yeah. From both his sister and his wife, so you’re not breaking any confidences. If that’s what’s worrying you.’

‘Very well.’ He took a deep breath. ‘Just as an example. I mentioned we had a supplier – a pottery supplier – called Lucilius Festus.’

‘With a workshop in Trigemina Gate Street. Right.’

‘Yes. Our previous supplier was a man named Titus Vibius. He produced good stuff, popular with the customers, and he was reasonably priced and reliable. A year ago when the contract came up for renewal Gaius decided to award it to Festus instead. Oh, I’ve nothing against Festus. He’s a good man and a fine potter. But he isn’t in Vibius’s league.’

I was beginning to get the picture here. ‘On the other hand, he’s got a good-looking and compliant wife. Or a daughter, maybe.’

Poetelius nodded. He was not looking happy. ‘Wife,’ he said.

‘Would that be Marcia or Hermia?’

His eyes widened. ‘Who told you?’

‘Annia. I said, pal: there’s no need to be coy. The lady knows already.’

‘Marcia, then.’ He hesitated. ‘And Hermia is the wife of Titus Vecilius.’

‘Who has a workshop in the same street?’

‘Yes. He’s even more recent, within the last couple of months. Although to be fair he’s at least as good as the man we used before, if not better.’

Uh-huh. ‘Do the husbands know?’

‘Oh, yes. I’m absolutely sure they do.’

‘How so?’

Poetelius hesitated again, for longer this time. Finally he said:

‘Because they both came here, separately, four days ago, out for Gaius’s blood. Fortunately he wasn’t in the office, or the situation would’ve been even more unpleasant than it was. I told them I’d pass on the message, which I did.’

‘Four days ago? The day before the murder?’

‘Yes. Mid-morning in Festus’s case. Vecilius an hour or so later.’

Jupiter! ‘ Both of them? The same day?’

‘That’s right.’

‘They say how they knew? That Tullius was carrying on with their wives, I mean?’

‘No. And I didn’t ask. My main concern was to get them calmed down and out of my life. I didn’t go into the matter with Gaius, either, when he turned up.’

Yeah, well; it looked like we had two prime suspects at least with motive in plenty for zeroing the guy. A visit to Trigemina Gate Street was definitely a priority. But, gods alive! Two angry cuckolded husbands in the one day! Either the bastard had been really, really unlucky or someone was out to get him.

Which reminded me.

‘Uh … By the way,’ I said, ‘Annia said that Tullius mentioned an accident he’d had six days ago in Ostia. He tell you anything about that at all?’

Poetelius’s face clouded. ‘No. Gaius was in Ostia that day, certainly, supervising the loading of a crate of glassware. But he never mentioned any sort of accident. Not to me, anyway.’

Odd. Still, we could think about the ins and outs of that one later. I told him what the lady had said.

‘It should be easy enough to check,’ he said when I’d finished. ‘Just give me a moment.’ He reached over to the records cubby on his left and pulled out one of the thin beechwood sheets. ‘Here we are. The glassware was being loaded into the Circe , berthed at Quay Twenty-five A. If there was an accident involving a crane nearby, the quay-master would know. They’re pretty strict about that sort of thing at Ostia, for obvious reasons.’

‘Fair enough.’ I stood up. ‘Oh, maybe one more thing, just for completeness’ sake. You mentioned a guy named Vibius.’

‘Titus Vibius. Yes.’

‘You happen to have an address for him?’

Poetelius frowned. ‘Of course. But why would you want to talk to Vibius? Like I said, he isn’t one of our suppliers any longer.’

I shrugged. ‘Call it dotting the i’s and crossing the t’s, pal. I told you, I’m only at the gathering-information stage here.’

‘Very well. His yard’s opposite the Emporium, facing the end of the Aemilian Porch.’

Same part of town, in other words, further along Trigemina Gate Street, beyond where it turned away from the river. Interesting. Maybe I’d drop in on Vibius while I was at it. Tomorrow looked like being a busy day.

‘What about Tullius’s brother-in-law?’ If I was going to be thorough, I might as well go the whole hog. And I hadn’t missed how quickly the guy had clammed up when I’d walked in on him and Annia earlier that morning.

‘Quintus? He lives somewhere on the Esquiline, I think. I don’t know where exactly, but Annia would be able to tell you. He and Gaius haven’t had anything to do with each other for years, certainly not in the line of business. I don’t think I’ve seen him since the wedding.’

‘Isn’t that a bit surprising? I mean, Annia said that your fathers – yours, hers, and Tullius’s – were good friends and that you’d known each other since you were children. If he’s in business himself then I’d’ve thought-’

‘Gaius and Quintus never liked each other even as children, Corvinus. And when Annia’ – he hesitated – ‘chose to marry Gaius he broke off all connection with him. Not that I was all that sorry myself. Gaius had his faults, certainly, but I’m afraid I had about as little time for Quintus as he did. He was a smug, self-opinionated prig as a child and he’s carried these qualities into adulthood.’

Happy families, indeed, both in the immediate and the extended form. Well, as the guy had said, if necessary I could check on his address with Annia. I said my goodbyes, and went home.

There was a definite tang of woodsmoke in the air of our street when I got back, plus a faint smell of roasting meat overlaid with a touch of incense and perfume. I glanced in passing at the Petillius wall, from the garden behind which rose a thin spiral of smoke.

Bathyllus opened the front door as usual as soon as I’d got my foot on the first step.

‘Hi, little guy,’ I said, taking the obligatory wine-cup. ‘What’s going on next door?’

‘That’ll be the funeral, sir. Or the tail end of it, rather.’

I goggled. ‘The what ?’

‘The funeral. Admetus’s, sir.’ No one can look and sound as bland as Bathyllus when he wants to. ‘It was held a few hours ago.’