Germanicus

13

Next morning I checked with Watch headquarters. They put me on to the guy who'd found Regulus's body. He was off duty, and I took the address: a tenement not far from the Appian aqueduct. When I found it there was a kid sitting on the step outside, shelling peas into a bowl.

'Hey, sonny,' I said. 'You happen to know where I can find Flavonius Lippillus?'

The kid set the bowl down. 'You already have. And less of the sonny.'

I did a double-take. He didn't look old enough to shave, let alone help keep order in one of the toughest districts of the city. 'You're Lippillus?' I said. 'Of the Aventine Watch?'

'That's right.' I could see him take in my narrow-striper mantle; you don't see many of those south of the racetrack. He sounded older than he looked. No slob, either. There were good vowels there.

'Uh, sorry, pal,' I said, trying a grin. 'No offence.'

'None taken. It happens all the time.' He hadn't smiled, though. 'So what can I do for you?'

'Name's Marcus Corvinus. I understand you came across a corpse yesterday night at the bottom of the Gemonian Stairs.'

'Livineius Regulus. Works at the Treasury.' His mouth twisted. 'Worked. He was a friend of yours?'

'No.' There were a few old wickerwork chairs against the wall, and I pulled one up and sat on it. Most tenement dwellers prefer living in the open air when they can, and there's more furniture outside these places than in. Stick your nose inside a city tenement flat and you'll realise why. 'Just an acquaintance. You were pretty quick off the mark identifying him.'

He shrugged. 'My brother's one of the junior clerks. You get to know a few faces. And a few names.'

The guy might look like he'd just dedicated his toy chariots to the household gods, but he was razor sharp. I blessed my luck. 'Can you tell me anything about how it was done?'

'You have a reason for asking?'

I had an unpleasant feeling that if I tried to lie he'd be on to me like a dog on a rabbit. And that that wouldn't be too good an idea. 'Not one I can give you straight out, no,' I said. 'Except that it's not friendship. And not just curiosity.'

The eyes gauged me.

'Okay,' he said at last. 'Regulus was stabbed once, in the back, at the top of the Stairs, some time between ten o'clock and midnight. He was then dragged down towards the Tiber by means of a hook under the chin. The hook stayed with the body. His purse was missing but that was done as a blind, or maybe it was taken later by some other bastard. He came alone, he knew the man who did it, and he trusted him. Probably he'd gone there specially for a meeting. And the murder was premeditated. That do you for starters?'

I whistled softly. 'You tell fortunes for an encore?'

The serious look vanished, and he laughed. 'It's simple enough. We found blood above the top step and traces all the way down. It was raining before ten, the ground under the body was wet and we got there ourselves just after midnight. Hence the timing.'

'Okay. What about the rest?'

'From what I've heard of him Regulus wouldn't be seen dead on the Aventine. No pun intended.' I grinned: I was beginning to like this guy. 'So he must've had a reason for being there. Especially somewhere out of the way like the Stairs. Hence the clandestine meeting. Right?'

'Right.'

'Also, he was a narrow-striper. Broad- and narrow-stripers don't go out alone at night because they can afford not to; they've got torchmen, probably a few hefty slaves with clubs. Aventine toughs go for easy pickings. Solitary drunks, that sort of thing. They steer clear of guys like that. Yet there was no sign of a fight, and no subsequent report. So Regulus came alone.'

I frowned. 'Wait a minute, friend. You can't have it both ways. Narrow-striper or not, if he was alone what was to prevent whoever put a knife into him being one of your local yobbos?'

'How many yobbos do you know who carry hooks around on the off chance? And how many would waste valuable drinking time dragging a corpse down a flight of steps?'

Yeah. Sharp as a new-ground razor. 'So you think the murderer brought the hook along specially? Meaning to use it?'

'Sure. Premeditated, like I said.'

'Why?'

'Search me. Ask me again when I've got more to go on.'

'Okay. And the bit about Regulus trusting the guy who killed him?'

'Would you turn your back on someone you didn't trust at that time of night? Alone? In a neighbourhood like the Stairs?'

'No. I wouldn't.' Shit. He had it all stitched up. I'd bet he was right, too, in every detail. Fresh faced kid, nothing. This guy had a future. 'So where does the case go from here?'

'We reported it to the city prefect's office, naturally. Regulus was an important man. There'll be an investigation.'

Sure there would. At least the start of one. But it wouldn't go very far before it was quashed, and when it was I'd pay good money to know who put the dampers on. 'Listen, Lippillus,' I said. 'The investigation may not happen. Don't ask me why, just take my word for it.'

He gave me a slow, careful look. 'And just what the hell is that supposed to mean?'

I shook my head. 'I can't tell you. If I'm wrong then there's no harm done. But if I'm right I want to know. And I want a name.'

He wasn't smiling now. 'Look. I've been pretty patient, although none of what I've told you was a secret. You could've found it out anyway through your uncle.' Gods; on top of everything else the guy carried a copy of the social register around in his head. He was even smarter than I'd given him credit for. 'But the least you can do in return is tell me why a consul's nephew should be interested in the death of a Treasury official. Personally interested, I mean. You say he wasn't a friend.'

'No way!'

The frown vanished, and he grinned like a twelve year old.

'Yeah, okay,' he said. 'I believe you. But like I said Regulus was an important man. Even shits like him don't just get forgotten. So why should there be an official cover-up? That's what we're talking about, isn't it?'

'Yes, that's what we're talking about. But I'm sorry.' I was. Really sorry. 'I can't tell you. Not yet, anyway.'

'You mean it's political?'

'Very. At least I think so.'

'Dirty political?'

'The dirtiest.'

'Uh-huh.' He picked up the basin of peas again and began to shell them slowly and methodically. I could almost hear his brain tick. 'Okay. Maybe I'll trust you. Or half trust you. Provisionally, anyway.' Jupiter! Talk about hedging your bets! Still, if I'd been the guy I would've been cautious myself. 'So what do you want?'

'Nothing much. Keep your ear to the ground. If — when — the case is closed, let me know who's responsible for closing it. That and only that. And another thing.'

'Yeah?'

'Whatever you do, don't try to keep the investigation going single handed.'

His eyes came up, and I saw he believed me after all. He nodded, slowly. Maybe he swallowed. If so, I didn't blame him.

'Okay. You've got it.'

'Thanks.' I stood up and put the chair back. 'You know where to find me?'

'I'll find you.'

'Good. It was nice meeting you. A real pleasure.'

He grinned suddenly: fresh faced kid again. 'Likewise. Good luck with the sleuthing.'

As I turned to go another thought struck me. Not a pleasant one either. 'You said the hook was still in the body. What kind of hook was it?'

'Just the usual. The kind butchers use to hang up carcasses. Why?'

'No reason. See you, Lippillus.'

'Yeah. Yeah, well, let's hope so.'

I left with the hairs on the back of my neck crawling and a strong sense of guilt. The kind of hook butchers use to hang up carcasses. Jupiter and all the gods, I'd fingered Regulus myself.

Maybe I should have another talk with my butcher friend.

The shop was open, but the guy behind the counter was Carillus's boy Scaurus. I waited my turn.

'Your father around, son?' I said.

'He's away at the moment.' The kid's eyes didn't shift. He even smiled. 'Up north.'

'Yeah? Anywhere in particular?'

'Not that I know of.'

'When do you expect him back?'

'Ten days. Maybe twelve.'

'This happen often?'

'Now and again. He goes round the farms buying stock. Checking quality. Arranging delivery. You know the sort of thing.'

'Yeah, I know.' That made sense, especially since the guy owned his own slaughterhouse. He'd have more than his own business to supply. Still, it was too pat. Much too pat. 'So when did he leave?'

'Early this morning.' Scaurus looked past me. A queue was starting to form. I recognised the chitterlings lady; this time she'd been buying spring greens. 'Now what can I get you, mister?'

'Uh…you got any sows' wombs?'

'Sure. How many you want?'

'Two. No, make it three.' While he was fetching them I looked up at the meat rack. Hooks there and to spare: he'd never have missed one. Nice sharp knives, too.

Gods! And I'd believed the guy!

I took my sows' wombs wrapped in straw and paid for them. I thought of giving them away to the first passing dog but then I changed my mind. They looked fresh, and roast sows' wombs with a nut and sausage stuffing is something you don't see every day. Besides, if Meton ever found out I'd chucked them he'd probably poison the soufflé in revenge. The guy was like that. A real professional.

Okay. So if the murderer was Carillus then the bastard was either very careless or very confident. And I didn't think Carillus was the careless type. That hook had been part of the message. He was saying, in effect, ‘So I did it. So nail me if you can. But watch your back if you try because I've got friends.’ That didn't sound too good. Also there was the matter of the letter. If the murderer was Carillus then all the bets were off. Maybe the deed of transfer he'd shown me had been genuine. The date had certainly checked, but that didn't mean the deed had to be the letter Piso had written on his last night. Carillus could've got both from Piso at the same time. In which case we were back to square one, with a phantom note that'd been written and possibly delivered.

Or not, as the case might be.