Finished Business

TEN

‘It was a set-up,’ I said to Perilla as Bathyllus served us our pre-dinner drinks in the atrium. ‘She planned the whole thing.’

‘Evidently so, dear.’ Perilla sipped her carrot-juice cocktail. The lady was experimenting with vegetables. You do not want to know. ‘But what I don’t understand is how she did it.’

‘How do you mean?’

‘Well, if she’d targeted Surdinus specifically then she must have known that he would be at the dinner party. That could be the only reason for swapping places with the other girl.’

‘Maybe she didn’t. Target him specifically. Maybe she sized him up when she was doing her act, reckoned he was a likely prospect, and took it from there.’

‘Marcus, that’s nonsense. If that had been the case there would’ve been no reason to make the swap in the first place. Men who can afford to hire musicians and dancers for their dinner parties are all likely to be wealthy — positively rich by someone of Tarquitia’s class’s standards. If she were simply planning to hook a wealthy protector, one set of customers would offer as good a chance as another. And Surdinus wasn’t even the one giving the party. She might conceivably have known the host’s name in advance, but not the names of his guests. No, the plan was aimed at Surdinus from the beginning. It had to be. But, as I said, I can’t see how she could’ve managed it.’

‘You’re assuming she didn’t have another reason for making the swap. A good one, not connected with Surdinus.’

‘Well, did she? You talked to her husband. What did he say?’

Bugger; she was right, of course. As far as I remembered, Otillius hadn’t said in so many words that Tarquitia hadn’t had a reason for getting the other girl to switch gigs, or at least offered one, but that was definitely the implication. And Otillius himself had called the whole thing ‘queer’.

‘Yeah, OK, lady,’ I said. ‘Point taken. Still, puzzle or not, manage it she did. And from there on in, she managed things pretty neatly. Oh, sure, according to Gallio everything was done perfectly legally, with Surdinus himself calling the shots, but six gets you ten that whatever he thought was the case himself, the idea behind the transfers came from her. And the upshot is that Tarquitia is now one seriously rich lady.’

Perilla frowned. ‘How could an intelligent man like Surdinus do that?’ she said. ‘He was very wealthy, yes, obviously, but half a million sesterces is a huge amount of money. It must represent a significant part of the estate. And to make a gift of it in the course of a single month to someone who’s only been his mistress for a year, with the promise of more to come … frankly, Marcus, I find it incredible.’

‘Yeah, well, from all accounts the guy was completely besotted.’ I topped up my wine cup. ‘Besides, there are contributing factors. Sullana told me that he looked on Tarquitia more as a daughter than a mistress. And he’d certainly far more time for her than for his real family. Wife divorced, one son estranged and the other, to his mind, mostly a waste of space.’

‘Hmm.’ Perilla was twisting a lock of hair. ‘You have thought in terms of him, haven’t you? Surdinus Junior?’

‘As the killer? Or at least the one behind the killing?’ I set down the jug. ‘Oh, yeah. I’m not stupid, lady. In fact, after what old Gallio told me, I’d say he was a pretty good bet. Certainly far and away the best we’ve got at present. Tarquitia — well, she’s a con artist seriously on the make, and for her to have Surdinus murdered just when the con is beginning to show a real profit wouldn’t make any sense. Even if he’d woken up to what she was doing and told her he was pulling the plug, he’d be too late; all the transactions had already gone through, she was legally half a million up and sitting pretty, and if she knew about the will she could afford to forget about that side of things. Murdering him just wouldn’t be worth the effort, and she’d be taking a terrible risk for very little reason. Surdinus Junior, now, he’s another kettle of fish altogether.’

‘Damage limitation,’ Perilla said.

‘Sure. Gallio told me he’d kept the guy informed about what his father was doing, and was planning to do. In effect, Surdinus Senior was giving away the family fortune hand over fist, and there was nothing anyone could do to stop him. Junior was down a cool half million of his inheritance already. The only way he wouldn’t be down a hell of a lot more was if his father were suddenly to die. And — conveniently — die he did. Plug pulled, end of problem.’

‘You could never prove it, dear.’

I sighed. ‘Yeah, I know. That’s what’s so frustrating. His hand wasn’t on the stone that killed the old guy, so it’s not a question of proving he was in the tower at the time. As far as this case is concerned, we can forget opportunity altogether; means, too, because we know how the murder was done and who did it, and anyone could’ve set that up. So it all comes down to motive, and that’ — I took a morose swig of wine — ‘is a real bugger.’

‘We have to find this freedman,’ Perilla said. ‘Make the connection there.’

‘No arguments, lady, none at all. You like to tell me how?’ Silence. ‘Exactly. If he was acting for Junior, he wasn’t one of the family’s own, because Cilix would’ve recognized him. Or Leonidas would’ve, from Cilix’s description, because a birthmarked or whatevered cheek is a pretty fair giveaway. Or some other smart bugger among the bought help would, when Cilix’s story became common knowledge, which it would about five minutes after he’d opened his mouth, with the result that by now we’d have the guy’s name and address. Plus if Junior had the common sense of a gnat he’d be perfectly well aware of the stupidity of using one of his own men to kill his father on his own estate in broad daylight, when he might be seen. Which, of course, he was. Ergo he’s a complete stranger, a once-off, who by now could be anywhere in Rome, or anywhere in the fucking whole of Italy for that matter. Not to mention the rest of the empire. Gods!’

‘Gently, Marcus, gently. And don’t forget that Surdinus Junior isn’t the only possibility. If someone else were responsible for the murder, none of that would necessarily apply.’

‘You have any theories, lady? I’m open to suggestions.’

‘You don’t think it was this Otillius? Tarquitia’s husband?’

I shrugged. ‘It could’ve been. He’d have motive enough; he was obviously more than fond of Tarquitia, and he knew where to find Surdinus. Plus he’s got enough of a violent streak in him to commit a murder, that much is pretty obvious.’

‘But?’

‘Right. Definitely but. First of all, he’d’ve done the killing personally, not sent someone else to do it. Someone like Otillius would want the satisfaction of bashing the old guy’s head in himself.’

‘We can’t be absolutely sure he did send anyone else.’

‘Come again?’

‘Cilix only said he saw a strange freedman acting suspiciously and coming from the direction of the tower at approximately the right time. He didn’t see him actually leave the tower, let alone commit the murder. At first he thought the man was a poacher. Why shouldn’t he have been right?’

I sat back. Shit. True; absolutely true. We were assuming the freedman Cilix saw was the killer, but that’s all it was: an assumption. If he’d been what was effectively an innocent bystander, then the whole thing was up for grabs.

Thank you for that, clever-clogs. Thank you so very much. Just what I needed.

‘Even so, lady,’ I said, ‘Otillius wasn’t a planner. He’s a porter in the vegetable market, for the gods’ sakes.’

‘So?’

‘Jupiter, Perilla, intelligence in a job like that is a positive drawback. Some of the cabbages are smarter than those guys.’

‘Marcus, that is judgmental and completely unfair.’

‘Yeah, well, maybe. But he didn’t seem much of an intellectual giant to me. And he was genuinely surprised that Surdinus was dead. Either that or he was a bloody good actor.’

‘Are you so certain that he wasn’t?’

‘Come on, lady! Give me a break! Trust me, Otillius isn’t the one we want.’

‘Very well. What about Naevius Gallio?’

I just stared at her. ‘What?’

‘He’s a possibility. Not as good a one as Surdinus Junior, I admit, but far better, to my mind, than anyone else. And for much the same reasons.’

‘You care to elucidate, maybe?’ I tried to keep the sarcasm out of my voice.

‘Certainly. His family have managed the Naevius estate finances for three generations, and he clearly takes considerable pride in the fact. How do you think he felt when the current head of the Naevius family started dismantling the estate and effectively giving and continuing to give away large parts of it to a common nightclub dancer?’

Bugger; I could see where she was heading. Put like that, it was obvious. A client/patron link that went that far back would be pretty much bred in the bone, and its loyalties would be to the family as a whole, not to any of the individual members. Furthermore, those loyalties would override everything, absolutely everything, even the moral and legal concepts of right and wrong. Pace Perilla, Gallio had a motive that, in its own way, was at least as strong as Junior’s.

‘Pretty hacked off,’ I said. ‘Particularly when he was forced to sit on his hands and watch it happening. Or, even worse, organize the transactions himself.’ Hell. ‘Yeah, fair enough, lady. Add him to the pot. Anyone else, while we’re about it? You haven’t got an axe to grind regarding Sullana, have you?’

‘No, dear. Not so far. But then I’m keeping an open mind.’

I grinned. ‘OK. Fair enough. Just get off my back, will you?’

She smiled and ducked her head. ‘There’s the other son, of course. He’s a completely unknown quantity at present.’

‘Yeah, right.’ I emptied my wine cup and refilled it. ‘Actually, I’ve got him scheduled. He’s tomorrow’s assignment.’

‘Do you know where to find him?’

‘Not exactly. Postuma said he’s got a place — a workshop or whatever — near the Circus.’

‘She couldn’t be more specific?’

‘I didn’t ask her at the time, but I’d guess not. Even so, tracking him down shouldn’t be too difficult.’

‘Oh, really?’ Perilla sniffed. ‘Marcus, dear, be sensible! The phrase near the Circus covers everything bounded by the Caelian, the Palatine and the Aventine. That is an appreciable chunk of the city.’

‘Yeah, I know. But he’s an artist, right?’

‘So?’

‘So where do you find artists — artists of a kind, anyway — in the neighbourhood of the Circus?’

I could see the answer registering. Perilla grinned.

‘In the arcades beside the entrances to the Circus itself,’ she said. ‘Marcus, that is brilliant!’

‘Yeah, well,’ I said smugly, and took a modest swig of wine, ‘score one for the boys.’ Of course, most of the hucksters who sold the cheap pottery models of the top chariot drivers were just that — hucksters, without an artistic bone in their bodies, and a lot of the stalls only opened on race days when there were plenty of punters around, but you did see a few booths run by genuine artists and craftsmen who produced their own stuff, mainly for the quality end of the market. Better, some of them — and I hoped that Marcus Surdinus was one — were fixed up more permanently in ground-floor properties opposite the arcades themselves: potters, sculptors, jewellers, bronze-workers and the like. Even if I struck out there, the art-and-craft community in Rome, as happens with any other trade or profession, is a small world where everyone knows everyone else. If I asked around long enough, someone was sure to know where the guy was based.

I was giving myself another top-up when Bathyllus tooled in to say that dinner was ready. Well, I couldn’t really complain about how things were going. There were plenty of possible angles to explore still, and even if Surdinus Junior was our man, maybe we’d strike lucky. In any case, after a day traipsing round more than half of Rome and a lunch that’d consisted of a few olives, a hunk of bread, and a bit of cheese, I was starving.

Time for dinner. Tomorrow was another day.