David Wishart: Trade Secrets

‘And when the Watch officer arrived it turned out that he knew you. A Flavonius Lippillus.’

‘Lippillus? He’s in charge of the Public Pond district. What was he doing over on the Palatine?’

‘I don’t know. But you can ask him yourself when you see him. I said you might be interested, and he didn’t seem to mind. He’ll be at the Palatine Watch station on Tuscan Street, if you’d like to call in. I said you’d do that tomorrow.’

Hell; this I didn’t need! And Perilla wasn’t looking too happy either, to put it mildly. Which was understandable: there we were being careful to keep the young lady’s nose out of one murder, and she’d gone and stuck it into another off her own bat. Got me involved, too. One case I could handle, but two at the same time was pushing things.

‘So all in all,’ Marilla finished, ‘yes. We had a very nice day, thank you.’

Perilla had her mouth open again, but luckily at that moment Bathyllus shimmered in.

‘Dinner, sir?’ he said. ‘Meton says he’s ready whenever you are. No real hurry, though.’

Well, that was a nice change, anyway: our touchy chef normally had dinner timed to the second, and he took it very personally if we didn’t eat to order. At least that side of our domestic arrangements seemed to be going smoothly at present, if nothing else was. Which it decidedly wasn’t.

Fuck. Double fuck.

‘No, that’s OK, pal,’ I said, trying not to look at Perilla. ‘We’ll go through now. What’s on offer?’

‘He’s made a special effort, sir. Snails sauteed with fennel followed by roasted pigeons in a sweet onion sauce. With a custard tart and preserved fruits to follow.’

‘Oh, marvellous!’ Marilla said. She likes her food, does Marilla, and Meton’s always had a soft spot for her.

My stomach growled: the plate of cheese and olives I’d had for lunch in the wineshop had been hours ago, and there hadn’t been much of that, either. Not that, from the look on Perilla’s face, it was going to be a very comfortable family meal, despite Meton’s efforts. ‘Sounds great,’ I said, getting up quickly.

At least the Watch officer concerned had been Decimus Lippillus; all I had to do was pay the guy a short visit, explain the situation, that I was otherwise engaged at present and was keeping well clear. He’d understand, sure he would, and if she didn’t like it then Marilla would just have to lump it. Besides, if she thought she had a vested interest – which, to be fair, she did – then keeping the lady off my back would be difficult in spades.

Still, it was odd. And getting mixed up with two unconnected murders – or whatever you liked to call the second one – inside ten days was really pushing the boat out. Those evil-minded gods hovering around with their ears pricked were really working their socks off this time round. One way and another, the next day was going to be busy, busy, busy.

For the present, though, I’d settle for the roasted pigeons.

I was up betimes the next morning: Trigemina Gate Street is a fair way from the Caelian, on the south-west edge of the city where most of the big workshops and warehouses are so as to be handy for loading and unloading cargoes to and from Ostia, and if I wanted to fit in a visit to the Palatine Watch-house on Tuscan Street as well – which I didn’t, really, but there you go – I’d have to get my skates on. Plus there was the head of the Aventine Watch to see, re the details of the actual murder as far as he knew them.

Like I say, busy, busy, busy.

Added to all this, I wanted to be gone before Marilla put in an appearance, because the lady would take it as her natural right to tag along on the promised visit to Lippillus, at least. And that, considering it was going to be a thanks-but-no-thanks call, I could do without. The chances were there’d be serious ructions when she found out in any case, but at least it’d be a fait accompli.

Besides, so far she didn’t know anything about the Tullius business. How long we could keep to that happy state of affairs I didn’t know, but the longer the better.

So I grabbed a roll with a slice of cheese between the two halves to eat on the way and headed towards Tuscan Street.

I was lucky: Decimus Lippillus was at his desk in the Watch Commander’s office.

‘Hey, Marcus!’ he said when I came in. ‘I’ve been expecting you. How’s the lad?’

‘OK.’ Lippillus and me went way back, almost pre-Perilla: a good twenty years, in other words. Despite that, he still looked like he had a year or so to go before his first shave and adult mantle; not just because of his height, or lack of it, either. Even so, midget and fresh-faced kid lookalike or not, Decimus Flavonius Lippillus was the best Watch Commander in the city, bar none. ‘How’s Paullina?’

‘Flourishing. Putting on weight, but there you go.’ Lippillus’s common-law wife and former stepmother Marcina Paullina was African, twice his size and a real honey. ‘Perilla well?’

‘Yeah, she’s fine.’ I pulled up a stool and sat. ‘What’re you doing here at Tuscan Street? They kick you out of Public Pond?’

He laughed. ‘In a way. Old Titus Fannius retired last month and the City Prefect decided to move me. It’s a promotion, sure, but one I could do without. The air on the Palatine’s a bit rich for my taste.’

‘So. Tell me all about this murder over at the Pollio. Or stabbing, rather.’

‘ All is stretching it, Marcus, because we know practically zilch. The dead guy was an Ostian by the name of Correllius. Marcus Correllius.’

‘ Ostian ?’

‘Yeah. A businessman, seemingly, according to his slave. And no, you’re right; it wasn’t murder, not according to that smart-as-paint doctor son-in-law of yours, although that wasn’t for the want of trying on the part of the guy who put the knife in. What’s his name? Clarus?’

‘Cornelius Clarus. Yeah. He’s the local doctor down in Castrimoenium.’

‘So he said. Smart cookie, that. Well, he’s saved us a bit of work, anyway, and I’m grateful for that, at least. You can have the case if you want it, the whole boiling, with my blessing.’

Bugger; this didn’t sound good; I was glad that Marilla wasn’t here. ‘Hang on, pal,’ I said. ‘Death was from natural causes, fair enough. But if the guy was stabbed, then-’

He was shaking his head. ‘Marcus. Watch my lips here. I hate to say this, but it’s a question of the constructive use of Watch time.’

‘How do you mean?’

‘I mean that we’ll probably have to stamp this one “Unsolved”.’

‘Come on! That’s ridiculous!’

He held up his hands, palm out.

‘Yeah, I know, I know!’ he said. ‘I don’t like it any more than you do. OK, a crime’s involved, absolutely, no argument, and personally I’d love to take the thing up. But I’m short-staffed, I’m up to my eyeballs already. Between ourselves, old Fannius left things in a bit of a mess that it’ll take me months to sort out, and finding the guy who’s shoved a knife into someone who’s already a corpse comes pretty low on the list of priorities. Besides, I told you: the man was over from Ostia, and that’s the best part of a day’s journey each way for a start. Plus it’s technically beyond my jurisdiction, and I’d have to clear any investigation with the Ostian boys, or set up some sort of liaison arrangement. Frankly, there’re just too many complications. To tell you the truth, I was relieved when your Marilla suggested you might like to take it up.’

Shit; I was being ganged up on here. First Marilla, now Lippillus.

‘Truth is, pal,’ I said, ‘I’ve got enough on my plate myself to be going on with. Guy by the name of Gaius Tullius, killed a few days ago in Trigemina Gate Street, and I’m right at the start of things. When she volunteered me, Marilla didn’t know that.’ Not that, knowing the lady as I did, it would’ve made a blind bit of difference, mind, but still …