Solid Citizens

THIRTEEN

‘Back again, Valerius Corvinus?’ Anthus said when he joined me in the atrium. ‘You’re becoming a regular visitor.’

‘So it seems,’ I said. Interesting how freedom and the right to wear a freedman’s cap affects behaviour: the old guy was much more relaxed, much chattier now than he had been when I’d first met him as a slave, even though that had only been a couple of days before. It’s very easy to forget that the bought help are people, too, with their own thoughts and feelings. Too easy, maybe.

Mind you, I couldn’t quite see him behind the counter of a baker’s shop, hefting trays of rolls and passing the time of day with some chatty housewife over her morning Campanian Cob. That didn’t really seem the guy’s bag, somehow. Still, if he’d taken up with a baker’s widow in the first place he must have another facet to his personality, so maybe it wouldn’t be an issue.

‘Did you talk to Lucius Ampudius?’ he said. ‘About the old master’s will?’

‘Yeah. He was very helpful, and like you said everything seems to be above board there. No problems.’

‘Then why this visit, sir?’

‘I was just wondering if you could tell me a bit more about the old man himself.’

Anthus gave me a puzzled look. ‘I scarcely see why that should be relevant to the master’s murder,’ he said. ‘Particularly since Master Marcus has been dead for eleven years now.’

‘Maybe not. Still, there is a chance that there’s a connection. If you can fill in a few gaps for me I’d be very grateful.’

‘Then of course I’ll give you any information I can. Ask away.’

‘You were major-domo here when he was alive, right?’

‘Yes, sir. Of course. I’ve held the post for over thirty years now, and I’d been with the family all my life before that. In fact, I was born in this house.’

‘According to Ampudius he was, uh, failing mentally and physically in his latter years. Including the time he made the will disinheriting his son.’

‘Oh, no, sir. You must have misunderstood. As Lucius Ampudius will have told you, I expect, he was certainly showing some signs of frailty, both physical and mental, when he made the will, but he was in complete command of his faculties, at least where his powers of judgement were concerned. The real decline set in later, a year or two before his death, and it was very rapid, particularly in the final months.’

Yeah, well, that chimed with what Ampudius had said, right enough. Bugger. Still …

‘At the time he made the will, your master Quintus Caesius was managing the family’s business interests, is that so?’

‘Yes, sir. At the old master’s specific request. The interests were fairly widespread, and at times rather complicated. He was an intelligent man, Valerius Corvinus; he knew he was failing and he was unsure how far he could trust himself where matters of finance were concerned. Also, naturally, by that time Master Quintus was in his prime and an excellent, experienced man of business in his own right. Old Master Marcus decided that things were better left in his hands completely, and he never had cause to regret his decision.’

‘Uh-huh. Ah … Lucius Ampudius also said that your master eventually had his father certified. That true?’

‘Yes, indeed he did. Rightly so. He postponed things as long as he could, but in the end, regrettably, he had no choice; in fact, if anything he left it too late. As I said, the old master’s eventual decline was very rapid; in his final year he was unable to perform even the most basic of physical functions without help, and his mind had almost completely gone. The power of attorney which Master Quintus had been exercising for several years previously was only ever an ad hoc arrangement; it had no legal basis. By that time, of course, it was impossible to set it on a legal footing because old Master Marcus was beyond completing the paperwork involved, or even understanding what was required of him. So to avoid any possible legal complications my master’s lawyer Publius Novius advised formal certifying. It was only a technicality, making no difference whatever to the existing situation, and as I say the old master died shortly afterwards.’ He gave me a straight look. ‘There was nothing there, Valerius Corvinus, which should arouse your suspicions, should you be entertaining any. Everything my master did, he did reluctantly, as a last resort, and for the most honourable reasons. He was the most excellent of men.’

Yeah, well, that more or less put the lid on it, and to be truthful under the circumstances I hadn’t really expected anything else. So scrap the coercion theory. Bugger again.

‘Thanks, Anthus,’ I said. ‘Again, you’ve been a great help.’

‘I’m glad, sir.’ He hesitated. ‘Was there anything else? About the missing figurine, for example? You’ve talked to Quintus Baebius and raised the matter with him, I suppose?’

He was smart, Anthus, and no fool; but I already knew that.

‘Yeah,’ I said. ‘It seems they were going to do some sort of deal the day your master died involving a part-exchange — a physical part-exchange — but it fell through. When he went out that evening, is it possible he had the figurine on him?’

‘Very possible, sir. But if he did, as I told you, I wasn’t aware of it. You have no idea where it could have gone?’

‘No. No clear one, anyway. It’s still a mystery. If it does turn up you’ll let me know, right? You can always contact me through Silius Nerva. Or of course send direct to my son-in-law’s villa outside Castrimoenium.’

‘I’ll do that. Although it isn’t likely, I’m afraid.’

‘No, I don’t suppose it is.’ I held out my hand. ‘Thanks again, pal, for all your help. And if I don’t see you before your marriage, give my regards to your wife.’

‘Certainly.’ We shook. ‘As always, the best of luck to you, sir. I hope you bring the killer to justice.’

‘Yeah, well, I’ll try.’

I left. Enough for today; really enough.

Home.

Perilla was alone in the atrium when I got back, reading.

‘Oh, hello, dear,’ she said, putting the book down. ‘Back early again? You’re doing well.’

‘Yeah.’ I kissed her and lay down on the couch opposite. ‘Early-ish, anyway. No Clarus and Marilla?’

‘They’re both out. Marilla’s walking Placida and Clarus was called away into town about an hour ago to set a broken arm. They’ll be back in time for dinner. So how are things going?’

‘Pretty well, really.’ Bathyllus came in with the wine tray. ‘Thanks, little guy. Everything still fine below stairs?’

‘Yes, sir. Lupercus and I seem to have reached an acceptable modus vivendi, as I outlined to you.’

‘That’s great. Keep up the good work.’ He poured and buttled out. ‘I’ve solved the business of the fire in the wool store, anyway, lady. It was deliberate theft and arson right enough, and Manlius and Canidius were behind it.’ I gave her the details.

‘But, Marcus, that’s dreadful!’ she said when I’d finished. ‘You can’t be letting them get away with it, surely?’

I shrugged. ‘That side of things has nothing to do with me. As far as their getting away with it is concerned the cover-up is going to cost them an arm and a leg, and with guys like those two that’ll really hurt. Mind you, they’ll get their names on the plaque above the door of the new public hall they’re going to build and be well ahead on brownie points for elections in future, so they can’t complain they’ve been too hard done by.’

‘So you don’t think they were responsible, then? For the murder?’

I shook my head. ‘Uh-uh, lady, that’s a separate issue. What it does confirm is that they had a genuine motive. They needed to stop the enquiry, the only way that was going to happen was if Caesius wasn’t around in a month’s time to push it through the senate, and now both of them are firmly on the hook where opportunity’s concerned, too. At any rate, neither has a valid alibi for the time Caesius was killed. Canidius claimed that they were together at Manlius’s place for a business dinner until midnight, but according to the major-domo he left the house well before sunset. Which means he, at least, could’ve been anywhere at all that evening. Manlius too, because instead of providing a genuine alibi for himself, if he had one, he backed up his pal’s story.’

‘Why should he do that if he knew it wasn’t true?’

‘Maybe just out of solidarity, because from what I can see Canidius is the brains of the pair, the cool head, and Manlius just follows his lead. On the other hand, maybe it suited him.’

‘You mean he was elsewhere himself?’

‘Yeah.’ I sipped my wine. ‘It’s a possibility, anyway. I didn’t want to push things with the major-domo by asking if he’d gone out after Canidius had left, because he’d probably just have got suspicious and clammed up, or worse blown the whistle on me to his master. As it is, chances are that they don’t know they’ve been sussed. Definitely sussed, that is. So like I say the upshot is that at the time of the murder both Manlius and Canidius, together or separately, were running loose.’

‘You think they are likely prospects? Really?’

‘Really, lady, I don’t know. They’re a proper pair of chancers, no arguments there, crooks to the core, and for guys from their background like you said yourself the threat of exposure and the social disgrace involved might swing things, sure. For Canidius, certainly; that is one cool, calculating bastard. Given the opportunity, and if he thought there was no way he’d be found out, I reckon Canidius could and would’ve done it. Manlius, now, I doubt if he’d have either the brains or the guts. Not on his own, and not with premeditation. Still, they’re both in there with a shout, particularly after the fake alibi business.’

‘All right.’ She moved the cushion on her couch and settled herself more comfortably. ‘So what else did you get? Did you speak to the rival collector, what was his name, Baebius?’

‘Yeah.’ I took another swallow of the Alban and topped up the cup from the jug. ‘Turns out he’d had a clandestine meeting arranged with Caesius for that evening at sunset, at the old wool store, practically right next door to the brothel. Only Caesius never showed.’

‘From what Baebius told you, you mean.’

I grinned. ‘Come on, Perilla! I’m not stupid! He could’ve been lying about that, sure, but the details checked out with what his door slave said, and him I believed. Plus, whatever the truth of the meeting story was, Baebius couldn’t have done the killing because at the time Caesius left the brothel he was safely back home up by the Alban Lake Gate.’

‘Again, according to his slave.’

‘The boy had no cause to lie, under the circumstances. And like I say, I believed him. If he was acting and telling porkies then he was damn good at it.’

‘So what was the meeting about?’

‘That’s the odd thing. You know that figurine they quarrelled over, that all the fuss was about originally? The little bronze of the Runner? Seemingly Caesius offered to do an exchange, a partial exchange, for a similar piece they’d wrangled over in the past, and he was going to bring the figurine along with him. Which, presumably, he did, because it’s gone missing.’

‘What?’ Perilla said sharply.

‘Yeah. His major-domo Anthus hasn’t seen it since the day his master died. And Baebius denies all knowledge.’

‘Again, he could be lying.’

‘Why would he bother? He’s off the hook for the murder, and although the whole business of the clandestine meeting was a bit silly the deal itself was perfectly legal, none of anyone’s business but his and Caesius’s. If Caesius turned up and it went ahead, why complicate the issue? Besides, I’m pretty sure he was telling the truth there, at least. And the bronze was worth at least twenty thousand. If Caesius had it on him when he was killed — and I’d bet that he did, because where else could it have gone — then the simplest explanation is that the murderer took it himself.’

‘Or herself. What about the brothel owner?’

‘Andromeda? Perilla, that is crazy! Why should Opilia Andromeda murder Caesius?’

‘For the figurine, of course. Just for that. If it was worth twenty thousand sesterces it would be a motive in itself.’

‘Jupiter, lady! How would she know he had it? And it might be worth twenty thousand to a collector, but she’d still have to find one prepared to buy it. That wouldn’t be too easy out here in the sticks. Besides, there’d be the question of provenance. Any reputable collector she approached would want to know how she’d got her hands on it in the first place. He might even recognize it for what it was, in which case she’d be properly up the creek.’

‘I can’t see any reason why either of these objections should be valid, dear. She did let Caesius in herself that evening, didn’t she? Why shouldn’t she have seen the statuette in the process, if he had it with him? Then, of course, it would have been easy to hit him from behind as he went out, steal it, close the door and leave the body to be found in the morning.’

‘She’s a woman, for the gods’ sakes!’

‘Petite? On the small, fragile side?’

‘No, not at all, in fact, but-’

‘Then it’s a tenable theory. And you can always ask Clarus if it would be physically possible when he comes in. As far as selling the thing is concerned, well, Rome’s not all that far away; there are plenty of art dealers in the city, not all of whom are scrupulous, and I’m sure the lady would be quite capable of mounting any deception she felt was necessary. Or don’t you agree?’

I was staring at her. Shit! It was possible, at that. It was even plausible: Andromeda was no fluff-ball; she was smart and ambitious, and if she was building up a business and looking to go upmarket then twenty thousand sesterces would buy a hell of a lot of prime interior decorating. And certainly where opportunity was concerned she’d’ve had that far more than most. Maybe I should have another word, see which way she jumped. If she jumped.

‘OK,’ I said cautiously. ‘Andromeda is a possibility, I’ll give you that. Albeit an outside one. Proving it would be another matter, though.’

‘Very well.’ Perilla shifted on her couch. ‘Let’s move on. The brother, Lucius, and the nephew. Anything new there?’

‘Not a lot, no. At least, nothing positive. As far as Lucius being behind the killing is concerned, sure, he’s still very much our front runner, both in terms of motive and opportunity. Particularly if you bracket him with Roscius as the actual perp supplying the muscle and assume the murder wasn’t premeditated. Marilla was right about that; it’s the simplest explanation and it was something I hadn’t thought of. Oh, I would’ve got round to it soon enough, but the kid was there first.’ I glanced at Perilla over the rim of my wine cup. ‘She’s got a good brain in her head, that girl.’

Perilla sniffed. ‘I’m not denying it, dear. All I’m saying is that encouraging her to use it in theorizing about who committed a murder and how and why they did it is perhaps not such a good idea at her time of life and in her position.’

‘Yeah. Like I did with you.’

‘What?’

‘Come on, lady! You know what I mean! How old were you when you asked me to sub for you in getting your stepfather’s ashes back from Tomi? Twenty, was it? Twenty-one, tops. More or less the same age Marilla is now, anyway. And I seem to remember you didn’t have all that many scruples about getting involved with the case yourself at the time. Quite the reverse.’

‘Marcus, that is simply not fair!’

‘Sure it’s fair. And relevant.’

‘The situation was completely different! I had a vested interest!’ I just grinned at her, until finally she ducked her head and smiled. ‘Very well, dear, you have made your point; we won’t quibble. And you’re right; she does seem to have an aptitude. Unfortunately. Carry on. What about Mettius? Did you find out anything else on the will side of things?’

I hesitated. ‘Mettius is still a puzzle,’ I said. ‘The guy’s got secrets, that’s certain, and he’s dishonest as a Suburan horse trader. No arguments there. But that’s “dishonest”, not “crooked”; he’s no Manlius, let alone a Canidius. He may be an outsider who plays by his own rules, but my gut feeling is that he plays fair and more for the sake of the game than anything else. That’s what his pal Ulpius said, the guy who moved the wool bales for our two upright magistrate friends, and I’d say it was a pretty fair assessment.’

Perilla smiled. ‘You like him, don’t you?’

‘Liking has nothing to do with it. I’ve liked guys who’ve turned out to be murderers before, and as far as motive goes — probably opportunity too — he’s still well within the frame. But as far as the business with the will is concerned, I’m afraid that’s a complete washout. I talked to the old guy who witnessed it, and he was adamant that it was genuine.’

‘He was sure? It wasn’t just an opinion?’

‘Uh-uh. Marcus Caesius himself told him at the time that he was disinheriting his son, and he read the document before the old man signed it.’

‘Damn!’

I grinned. ‘Yeah. That’s what I thought. Naturally, it blows that part of the case against Mettius to hell. If there was no skulduggery between Caesius and Publius Novius then he’d no grounds for blackmailing them, and in that case they’d no need to trump up a fake embezzlement charge to get rid of him.’

‘So you think that was genuine, then?’ Perilla was twisting a lock of her hair.

‘It looks that way, sure. Like I say, Mettius is hardly squeaky-clean in the honesty department, and the only evidence to the contrary — if you can call it evidence — is his own claim that he was set up. On the other hand, everything I hear about Caesius confirms that he was straight where the law and business was concerned. Hard, yes, but straight. And by his own admission Mettius hated his uncle, there’s no getting past that.’

‘So where does that leave us?’

‘I don’t know, lady.’ I sighed. ‘He certainly went out of his way to finger Manlius and Canidius for me, which is suspicious in itself.’

‘That isn’t quite enough to make him a potential murderer, dear.’

‘Yeah. Agreed. And it might well’ve been that he had a personal axe to grind. According to Ulpius again, Manlius’s father was the aedile on the bench who sentenced him to relegation. Plus, he’s got a definite down on Bovillae’s Great and Good in general, so he could’ve done it simply out of pure devilment. That I’d believe, too.’ I took a morose swallow of wine. ‘Hell. Leave it for now. It’ll all work out eventually, no doubt.’

‘Hmm.’ Perilla frowned, then said, ‘Oh, by the way, we’ve had word from your mother and Priscus. They’ve decided to come early, so they should be here in three days’ time.’

Oh, great. Joy in the morning. Only a scant four days left of not being told I drank too much and not being bored to death on the subject of Etruscan modal verbs.

‘That’s nice,’ I said.

‘Don’t be sarcastic, Marcus. Personally, I’m looking forward to it.’

Yeah, sure; the lady had never been a good liar, and there was just a tinge of red in her cheeks.

Still, maybe there’d be another murder that’d keep me out of the house. I could always hope. Meanwhile, I reckoned sleuthing had had its whack out of me for the present and I was owed a bit of quality time doing bugger all. There was enough of the day left before dinner to stroll down the road to Pontius’s wine shop in the village for a quiet cup or two and a gossip with the locals.

So that’s what I did.