In at the Death

12

Dinner, when it finally came, was worth waiting for. Meton may’ve been sulking, but the guy is a professional to his gorilla-sized fingertips, and the long-cooked pork in cumin and aniseed was a dream.

No dog, either. I insisted on that, and for once Perilla didn’t object; maybe our bath-time romp had soured her, too, just a little. Where the brute was exactly at that precise moment in time and what she was doing I didn’t know, and cared less. The screams weren’t reaching us here in the dining-room, anyway, and that was the main thing.

Bliss.

‘So.’ Perilla dipped a crust of poppy-seed roll into her sauce. ‘Did you find why the boy killed himself?’

‘I don’t know,’ I said.

‘How do you mean, you don’t know?’

I reached for the pureed lentils that had come with the pork and helped myself to more. ‘According to Laelius Balbus, he was on the take and knew he’d been caught out.’

She put the crust down. ‘Oh, Marcus!’

‘Yeah, well. He wouldn’t be the first to go that road. Kid in need of money finds himself in a job where there’re plenty of rich punters who want to get richer. They suggest that if he turns a blind eye to certain inflated figures on their claims sheets a few gold pieces might find their way into his purse. Where’s the harm? The only party to lose out is the state, and the state can afford it. So long as he’s careful and no one gets too greedy it wouldn’t be noticed.’

‘And you think Papinius wasn’t careful.’

‘No. Or that’s the theory to go with the scenario, anyway. In the event, he was doubly unlucky. First, his boss wasn’t the type who just signs things unread; which wouldn’t necessarily have been fatal, mind, because Balbus is a nice guy, he knew what the result would be if he blew the whistle, and he didn’t want things to go that far unless they had to. Second, though, and prior to this, he had a pal — a so-called pal — by the name of Mucius Soranus. And he is another thing altogether.’

‘Soranus found out somehow that the boy was taking bribes and decided to blackmail him.’

‘Yeah. Again, that’s the theory. Soranus is no Balbus. He’s greedy and he’s ruthless. One word in the wrong ear — like to Domitius Ahenobarbus, say, or one of the other commission bosses — and Papinius would be finished. Career over, next stop exile. So in exchange for not telling Soranus wants serious gravy: fifty thousand silver pieces. The only way Papinius can get that kind of money is to go to a loans shark, which he does and pays Soranus off. Only a month down the line he finds out from Balbus that he’s been sussed in any case.’

‘And so he kills himself. Marcus, that’s dreadful! The poor boy.’

‘Right. Problem is’ — I hesitated — ‘as a scenario, it stinks.’

Perilla had been helping herself to the stew. She put down her spoon.

‘I beg your pardon?’

‘It doesn’t work. No way does it work. Or if it does I’m a blue-rinsed monkey.’

‘But surely — ?’

‘Papinius was no crook, I’d bet my last copper on that. And if he was honest then there was no kickbacks scam and the whole scenario collapses. A priori, a fortiori, QED.’

She was staring at me. ‘Marcus, be reasonable! You can’t just dismiss the bribery aspect out of hand, because from what you say it’s central to all the facts. Without it Soranus had no grounds for blackmailing the boy, and if he wasn’t then why the money-lender? Not to mention that your Laelius Balbus confirmed it. Or do you think he’s lying? And if so then why on earth should he be?’

I sighed. ‘Look, I’ve been through all this myself, right? Sure, it all adds up, right down the line, no arguments. For everything to make sense Papinius had to be bent. Only, believe me, he wasn’t, and if he wasn’t on the fiddle then why should he kill himself?’

‘Very well. What proof do you have that he wasn’t crooked? Real proof, I mean.’

‘He’s just not the type.’

‘Oh, Marcus! Very objective! I’m afraid that’s not an answer, dear.’

‘Okay.’ I leaned back and pushed my plate away. ‘He’s got glowing character references all round. Titus Natalis, his mother, bribery accusation apart even Balbus. Young Marcus Atratinus practically threw me down the aediles’ office steps for suggesting he might be dishonest, his ex-girlfriend went all dewy-eyed when she talked about him and even that shit Soranus called him a nice kid.’

‘You don’t think they might all be rather biased as character witnesses? Soranus aside? After all — ’

‘Jupiter, Perilla! We’re talking unanimous here, and that doesn’t happen often, not to that degree, certainly. If it was all a front then as a con artist the guy must’ve been bloody brilliant. Besides, there’re other things that don’t fit either.’

‘Namely?’

‘How and where he died. By rights the kid should’ve slit his wrists in comfort at home. Diving from an Aventine tenement just doesn’t make sense. And you can add the fact that he’d just paid the loan off, as well.’

She sat up. ‘He had what?’

‘Yeah. Right, that’s what I thought. Vestorius told me himself, the loans shark. Principal and interest, sixty thousand sesterces. Where the hell did the money come from?’

‘The bribes. Naturally.’ A fighter, Perilla.

‘Sixty thousand sesterces? That’s some whack, lady. And if he was raking it in to that extent he wouldn’t’ve needed a loan in the first place, would he?’

‘Hmm. You’re right, it is rather strange.’ She went quiet for a moment. ‘Then…Marcus…’

‘Yeah?’

‘What you’re actually saying is that you don’t think Sextus Papinius committed suicide after all. That he was murdered.’

Well, it was nice to hear it first from someone else. It didn’t sound so stupid that way.

‘Yeah,’ I said. ‘Yeah, I suppose I am.’

Bathyllus came in with the skivvies. ‘Have you finished, sir?’

‘Clear away, Bathyllus, but give us ten minutes before the dessert. And tell Meton that was excellent. As usual.’ Nothing wrong with a bit of unsolicited smarm when you have a sulking chef to contend with.

‘Yes, sir.’ He lifted plates. ‘He’ll be extremely gratified.’

Which reminded me. ‘Oh, Bathyllus. Incidentally, before I forget. Decimus Lippillus and his wife are coming round for dinner the day after tomorrow.’

‘Very well, sir. I’ll pass on the message.’

‘Lippillus asked if we could have fish.’

‘Ah.’

‘Right. Tell the stroppy bugger from me it’s non-negotiable. If he wants to brawl with half the fishmarket and get himself slugged with a tunny that’s his concern.’

‘I’ll…work on it, sir. Perhaps a little more tact and some rephrasing would be in order.’

I grinned and reached for my wine-cup. Bathyllus buttled out.

‘So,’ Perilla said. ‘If it was murder then why was it murder?’

‘I haven’t a fucking clue.’

‘Marcus!’

‘Yeah, well. Look, lady, you said it yourself: all the hard evidence points to suicide. All I’ve got on the murder front is a half-baked gut feeling.’

‘Don’t mix your metaphors. Or whatever that was.’

‘Okay, Aristotle. You want to indulge in a bit of unscientific theorising yourself, then?’

‘Certainly not. Even so, you need to start somewhere. A list of questions would help.’

I lifted the wine jug and refilled the cup. The lady was right, and if I put the googlies into words maybe something would suggest itself. ‘Okay,’ I said. ‘First question: why choose the tenement as a place to kill himself?’

‘It could have been a spur-of-the-moment decision. And if he was visiting it in any case as part of his job — ’

‘No.’ I shook my head. ‘He wasn’t, or not by prearrangement. Not according to Caepio the factor, anyway. Caepio said he’d only called in on spec to check on a couple of figures, and it turned out that that was only an excuse to get the top-flat key. Whatever his reasons for going up there the kid had everything planned beforehand.’

‘This is assuming, of course, that the factor is telling the truth.’

‘Perilla, look, I know that, okay? We’re drawing in crayons here. Just keep things simple at this point, fine?’

‘If you say so.’

Shit; I hated it when she put on that demure look. She was right, sure; dead right: Caepio could be lying through his ears, especially since he hadn’t mentioned the missing key until circumstances forced him to. But like I said we were on the nursery slopes. ‘Connected with that,’ I said. ‘Why the window? If he was planning on suicide from the start and just wanted a quiet place to do it, then why the hell didn’t he bring a knife or a razor with him and go out like a proper Roman gentleman? Why choose to take a nose-dive into a fucking crowded street?’

‘Marcus, if you’re going to swear then — ’

‘Yeah, yeah, right. Sorry. The answer’s obvious, anyway, given the murder option. He didn’t, he was pushed; probably knocked unconscious first, because he didn’t shout or scream. Only then we’re into a whole new can of worms. Who killed him and why? How did they know he’d be there? Why was he there? A dozen new questions and then some. Make them up for yourself, lady, but if you can give me a hard answer to any of them I’ll eat this fucking napkin.’

‘There’s no point in getting annoyed, Marcus. I can actually see the problem. What’s your second question?’

‘The bribes. If Papinius wasn’t taking bribes then why was Laelius Balbus so sure that he was?’

‘Discounting completely the possibility that Balbus might be lying?’

‘Come on, Perilla! Crayons, remember?’

‘Very well. Was he sure?’

‘He said he didn’t have definite proof, but yeah, I’d say so. And Balbus is a smart cookie.’

‘Did he talk to the boy about it?’

‘Yeah. Yeah, he did.’

‘And Papinius admitted it?’

I opened my mouth to answer, then stopped. Shit; I hadn’t thought of that. ‘I don’t know,’ I said. ‘Not for certain. Balbus didn’t say; he only said it had registered.’

‘“Registered”? Isn’t that an odd word to use? I would have expected either an admission or a denial.’ She shook her head. ‘Never mind. Leave it for now. Carry on.’

‘Fine.’ I took another swallow of the Setinian. ‘Three: if Papinius wasn’t taking bribes then why the loan? No bribes, no blackmail, right?’

‘Unless — as you say — the suspicion, and the proof, of guilt were strong enough to justify it, true or not. Or perhaps Soranus was blackmailing him for something else.’

‘Gods alive, he was an ordinary nineteen-year-old kid! What else could he put his hand up to that was worth fifty thousand sesterces to keep under wraps?’

‘Hmm.’ She was twisting a lock of her hair. ‘You’re certain he did pay the money to Soranus?’

‘Lady, I told you. I’m not certain of anything. Soranus denied it, but then he would, wouldn’t he? And if it didn’t go to him then who did it go to?’

‘All right,’ Perilla said. ‘Fourth question.’

‘Four’s just that: the sixty thousand payback. Where would a kid like Papinius get that sort of cash?’

‘Strictly speaking, Marcus, he wouldn’t have to. Given certain circumstances.’

I stared at her. ‘What? But — ’

‘If we’re being absolutely accurate, he’d only have to find the ten thousand interest. That is, if he still had the principal intact.’

I let that sink in, at least, as far as it went, which wasn’t saying much at this point. Bugger, she was right; technically, at least. Although then we’d be left with the problem of why he’d needed the fifty thousand in the first place, and why he hadn’t paid it over.

‘Question five,’ Perilla said.

‘Five is — ’ I started, but then I stopped as the yawn hit me. ‘Look, I don’t know about you, but I’m whacked and my brain’s beginning to hurt. Let’s call it a night, shall we?’

‘If you insist.’

I kissed her. ‘Come on, Aristotle. Bed. Tomorrow’s another day.’

‘Mmm.’

There was a cough behind me. Bathyllus had oozed in on my blind side. Impeccably timed, as always. ‘Will you be wanting the dessert now, sir?’ he said.

‘No, I think we’ll skip it after all, sunshine.’ I took a last swallow of wine, just to empty the cup. ‘Oh, Bathyllus. One thing, little guy. Before we pack in.’

‘Yes, sir?’

‘A lady by the name of Albucilla. Ring any bells?’

‘No, sir. I’m afraid not.’

‘Lucia Albucilla?’ Perilla said. ‘Satrius Secundus’s widow?’

I turned back. ‘You know her?’

‘Not personally. But I have heard the name, and I’ve seen her about once or twice. She uses the Apollo library.’

Hey! ‘You know where she lives?’

‘No. Why would you be interested in Lucia Albucilla?’

‘Papinius’s ex-girlfriend mentioned her as the reason why she is an ex. And Albucilla, seemingly, is a pal of Soranus’s.’

‘Ah.’ Perilla was frowning. ‘I’d’ve thought she would be a little old for Papinius, myself. She must be in her thirties. Early thirties, at least.’

‘That so, now?’ The library came as a surprise, too: Albucilla could be no society bubblehead, which was what I’d thought originally. But then Cluvia hadn’t been that type either, she was about the same age, and from all accounts Papinius wasn’t your lack-brained young Market Square dandy. ‘She have a reputation as a cradle-snatcher at all?

‘Albucilla? I’ve no idea. But then as I say I don’t know the woman personally.’

Hmm; well, I’d just have to add a chat with her to my things-to-do list. If she frequented the Apollo Library on a regular basis then they should be able to help me with an address. But that was for tomorrow, and I felt another yawn coming. I took Perilla’s elbow and eased her off the couch.

‘Let’s hit the stairs, lady,’ I said, ‘before my head opens up round the ears. Goodnight, Bathyllus.’

‘Goodnight, sir. Pleasant dreams.’

Frustrations or not, I still felt happier. Suicide’s tricky, but you know where you are with a murder.

Apropos of which, I hadn’t mentioned the feeling that I was being followed; but then Perilla wouldn’t’ve understood that.