Trade Secrets

TWENTY

I set out for the port the next day.

If it came to twisting arms, I was in a better position with Nigrinus Senior than I would’ve been with Mamilia, or even Doccius: Tullius’s death had definitely been murder, it was being officially investigated by the Watch in Rome, and I could make a reasonable prima facie case to link it with the Nigrini brothers. Besides, there was the almost certainty of the trading scam, whatever form it took; that, I could use the threat of as well if a little extra muscle was needed. I just hoped that I’d have the opportunity.

The walk from the Laurentian Gate took me up the Hinge and through Market Square, passing Vinnia’s wineshop on the way. I’d got pretty much all I needed to know in that direction from old Cispius, sure, and it’d been a red herring in the end, at that, but the wine had been good – like I said, you didn’t see Veian all that often – and a quick stopover while I was in the neighbourhood wouldn’t do any harm.

I opened the door and went in. No Vinnia this time, just a big guy his late forties with short-cropped hair greying at the temples, sweeping the floor with a broom.

He leaned the broom against the wall and went behind the counter.

‘Yes, sir, what can I get you?’ he said. His eyes flicked to the stripe on my tunic, and I saw them narrow.

Uh-huh. Interesting; very interesting. And I could see the family resemblance; he and his sister were alike as two peas. If she’d been built like a carthorse and had muscles like ship’s hawsers.

‘A cup of your Veian would be fine, pal,’ I said easily, going over to the counter and taking a few coins from my belt-pouch.

He reached for a cup, hefted the wine flask, and poured in silence. I laid the coins down.

‘No Vinnia today?’ I said.

‘No.’ Nothing else, just that; chattiness clearly ran in the family. His eyes were still fixed on the purple stripe.

I picked up the cup and sipped.

‘You’ll be her brother, right?’ I said.

‘Gaius Vinnius. Yeah.’ He turned round and replaced the flask in its rack. Obviously I was being left to make the running here.

‘I heard you were in Germany,’ I said. ‘Serving with the Second Augusta.’

‘That’s right.’ He turned back. This time the eyes looked straight at me, challenging. ‘I was. Centurion in the Third Cohort. Got my discharge a couple of months ago.’

‘Back here for good?’

‘No. I’ve a family over there, in Belgica; Augusta Rauricorum. Wife and two kids, German girl; we got married properly after I was discharged. I’m just back on a visit.’

‘A long way to come just for a visit, isn’t it?’ I took another sip of my wine.

He shrugged. ‘I haven’t seen my sister for over twenty years. This was the only chance I’d get. Besides, I’m taking her back out with me when I go. We’ve got the room, and there’s nothing to keep her here.’

‘True,’ I said. I was still holding the cup. ‘Particularly when the guy responsible for killing her husband is dead.’

Our eyes locked, and for a moment I thought he’d go for me. I’d kept my voice neutral, and my other hand was resting in full sight on the counter top. Then he dropped his gaze, shrugged again, reached for a cloth, and began drying the already-dry wine-cups.

‘Vinnia told me there’d been a purple-striper from Rome in asking questions,’ he said.

‘Yeah, that’s me. So. You were the one who stabbed him, right?’

‘I’ve no regrets. The bastard deserved to die. Manutius wasn’t much, but he was Vinnia’s husband and my brother-in-law. It was a matter of honour, someone in the family had to do it, and there was only me. Once I was free of the legion I had my chance. I’d’ve had that bastard Doccius as well if he’d given me the opportunity, but I’ll settle for the man who gave the order.’

‘You know Correllius was dead before you stuck the knife in?’

The dishcloth paused, and his eyes came up.

‘What?’

‘Sure. Dead as mutton. Natural causes, my son-in-law said, and he’s a doctor, so he should know.’

‘No,’ he said slowly. ‘No, I didn’t know that.’

He was telling the truth, that was plain enough. No one was that good an actor, particularly an ex-legionary centurion.

I took another mouthful of wine and set the cup down. ‘So,’ I said. ‘If you think you’re a murderer you can think again.’

‘Gods!’ He reached behind him, picked up a wine flask at random, poured some into an empty cup, and downed it in a oner. ‘Gods!’

‘You want to tell me exactly what happened?’ I said gently. ‘Purely for the record.’

He refilled the cup and replaced the flask.

‘How much do you know?’ he said.

‘That you pretended to be a businessman by the name of Marcus Pullius. That you arranged to meet Correllius outside the Pollio Library in Rome. And that you stuck a knife into him while he was sitting on one of the benches then disappeared off the map. That’s about the sum of it.’

‘I thought he was asleep.’

‘Uh-uh. I said: he was dead as a doornail. So what’s the full story? From the beginning.’

‘From the beginning?’ He took another swallow of wine. ‘Like I say, killing Correllius was the point of the visit, the first chance I’d had to out the bastard since Manutius died ten years back, and I wasn’t going to bungle it. I’d written to Vinnia telling her I was coming, sure, but no one else knew, and I’d told her to keep her mouth shut. She wasn’t even to mention I’d left the legion.’ He drained his cup, then refilled it from the flask of Veian and topped mine up at the same time. ‘We didn’t meet, either. All the arrangements’d already been made by letter, and although I’d never been to Ostia in my life – never been outside Gaul and Germany, for that matter – we thought it’d be safer. Besides, we look pretty much alike, her and me. Enough to be taken for brother and sister, anyway.’

‘Yeah,’ I said. ‘Yeah, you are. I spotted that straight off.’

He grunted. ‘So. I kept well clear of this place, took a room in town under the name of Marcus Pullius, and had a message delivered to Correllius. To Correllius, personally; that was important. I’d a good mate in the legion, came up the ranks with me; he’s in line for First Spear now. He was originally from Massilia, tough background, grew up round the docks. He knew the set-up there where the shady side of things was concerned, and he clued me in, gave me a few names to drop. People and places. I was betting Correllius’d never been to Massilia himself, but I wasn’t taking any chances. I did my homework before I came.’ His lips twisted. ‘Well enough to pass on short acquaintance, anyway.’

‘Doccius didn’t know anything about this? Or Mamilia?’

He frowned. ‘Who’s Mamilia?’

‘Correllius’s wife.’

‘Nah, not a thing. I told you, I sent the message to the bastard personally. I needed to keep things simple, and the fewer people on his side who knew the better.’

‘So.’ I sipped my wine. ‘What was the message?’

‘I told him I represented one of the local Massilian organizations in the same line of business as he was. Not the legit side of things, naturally. Gave him a name that I knew he’d recognize; it was real enough, thanks to my pal, and the guy it belonged to had serious clout. The idea was, I said, that the two of them would set up a working partnership, the Ostian side and the Massilian. One hand washes the other, you know what I mean?’

‘Yeah,’ I said.

‘Only I said it was strictly hush-hush at present. My boss didn’t want anyone else knowing about it until it was a done deal. So it would just be me as the rep and him, settled on a handshake, details to follow after I’d reported back. That was the reason for choosing Rome for the meeting, as well. Neutral ground, anonymous as we could make it.’

‘Why the Pollio?’

He shrugged. ‘Vinnia’d suggested it in her last letter. Me, I didn’t know Rome from Sardis, but she said she’d overheard a couple of customers talking about it as a good place to meet in the middle of the city. Not that I ever intended to kill the bastard there, it was too public: I travelled up from Ostia a couple of days beforehand and found a room to rent in a tenement building not far away, near the Circus. The plan was that once we’d made contact I’d take him there for the confab and do the job at my leisure.’

Yeah, I could see all this working. And Correllius would’ve jumped at it; the guy had been running his own organization for years, and I would guess that, suspecting he was being edged out, he’d grabbed the chance of putting one over on Doccius, and probably Mamilia, by cutting a prime deal off his own bat. This Gaius Vinnius was no fool. Mind you, if he’d got to be a centurion in a crack legion then he wouldn’t be.

‘So,’ I said. ‘When you turned up for the meeting you found him asleep on the bench.’

‘That’s right. It made things a lot simpler. There was no one around, no reason to wake him, so I just stepped behind him and let him have it in the back there and then.’ He frowned again. ‘Which was when the girl came round the corner and spotted me. You talk to her?’

‘Yeah. She didn’t think anything of it at the time.’

‘Well, I wasn’t hanging around to find out, that was for sure.’ His lips formed a wry smile. ‘I’d done what I came for and I got the hell out of it. I couldn’t go back to the original tenement room – too risky, as Gaius Pullius – but I found a shakedown near the Tiber wharves where they don’t need names or ask questions so long as you pay up front. Then, when I reckoned I’d be safe enough, I cadged a lift to Ostia and walked through that door there as the long-lost brother home from the wars, just off the boat and with the Belgic mud still on my sandals. That was yesterday evening. Only it seems I was wrong about the safety part of things, doesn’t it?’ I didn’t reply. He shrugged, drank the rest of his wine, and set the cup down on the counter with an audible click. ‘So. That’s it, the whole story, first to last. I’ve no regrets, either way. What happens now?’

It was my turn to shrug. ‘Nothing.’

He looked at me in surprise. ‘Nothing?’

‘Not as far as I’m concerned. I told you: there’s been no crime, you’re no murderer, I’ve got no authority anyway, and the Watch in Rome couldn’t care less.’ A slur on my pal Watch Commander Decimus, but I was sure he’d understand if I told him. Which, just in case, I’d no intention of doing. ‘So nothing. What had you got planned yourself?’

‘Go back home, taking Vinnia with me. Like I said.’

‘Fine with me, pal.’ I finished my own wine and stood up. ‘Safe journey, and have a good life. Give my regards to your sister.’

I held out my hand, and he shook it, automatically. Then I walked out, leaving him staring.

Well, so much for that aspect of the case. Rubrius would be disappointed, mind.

So. Onward and upward. We’d cleared up the Correllius side of things, at least where the stabbing was concerned, although naturally there was still the far more important matter of the scam. Over to the harbour offices for my chat with the clerk re the Porpoise and her captain.

I’d have to fit in another visit to Mamilia as well, of course. Not that I’d blow the whistle on Gaius Vinnius; there was no point, because for one reason or another the lady clearly couldn’t care less who’d stuck the knife into her husband, and I reckoned I didn’t owe her anything along those lines. But however she figured otherwise in this case – and she wasn’t off the hook yet, let alone Doccius and Fundanius, not by a long chalk – I owed her a mental apology: in part, at least, the theory about what was going on was out the window.

I carried on up Tiber Gate Road and through the gate itself to the main docks and the harbour office. The same freedman clerk I’d talked to on the other two occasions was on duty behind the desk. He gave me a rather strained smile.

‘Ah,’ he said. ‘The gentleman who was asking about the Porpoise.’

‘Yeah. You’ve got a good memory, pal.’

‘Never forget a face, sir.’ The brittle cheerfulness in his voice suggested that he’d gladly forget mine, given the chance. ‘How can I help you this time?’

‘Same subject, really. She back in port from Corsica yet?’

‘No. Nor likely to be. She went down just off Palla, in the south of the island.’

I stared at him. ‘She did what?’

‘Sank, sir. The crew, I understand, all managed to reach land safely, but the ship herself was lost. It happens, even at the best time of the sailing year.’

‘How do you know?’

‘Another ship calling in at Aleria brought the news a few days ago. I forget the name. Faces, yes; names, no.’

Gods! ‘What about the captain? Titus Nigrinus?’

‘I told you, sir.’ The clerk was getting just a little tetchy. ‘He made it to shore along with the rest of the crew. I’d imagine that he’s still in Corsica, because he’d have to notify whoever was taking delivery of the cargo and make his own report. No doubt he’ll get passage on another ship when he’s completed the formalities at that end, if he hasn’t already done so, but that’s his own affair. I have and would have no knowledge of the matter.’

‘Those are all the details you have?’

‘For the present, yes. But as I say it’s no business of mine.’

‘You have an address for him? Just in case he is back?’

‘No, sir. That’s not information that we keep on record. I’m sorry.’

Jupiter on wheels! ‘Fine,’ I said. ‘Thanks for your trouble.’

‘No trouble, sir. Any time.’

I left. So, that was that. The question was, was the sinking part of the scam, or was it a genuine accident? Like the man had said, these things happen, and I didn’t know enough about the ins and outs of the shipping trade or the dangers involved in that part of the Med to know how likely an accident was. The fact that the entire crew had escaped drowning, mind, was more than a tad suspicious: a lot of sailors, I knew, made a point of not learning to swim, because then if their ship went down at least they’d die quickly.

Complication on complication. It meant that I wasn’t going to be having my little talk with Titus Nigrinus in the near future, anyway.

So. Since there didn’t seem to be all that many options available I might as well pay my call on Mamilia. I retraced my steps to Tiber Gate and the centre of town.

The big bouncer was still on door duty at the house.

‘The mistress at home, pal? I said.

‘Yeah. You want to see her?’

‘That’s the general idea, yes.’

‘What was the name again?’

‘Corvinus. Valerius Corvinus.’ Then, as he turned to go in: ‘Hang on a minute. Publius Fundanius. He been round again since I was here last?’

He gave me a look like he was a septuagenarian spinster I’d shown a dirty picture to. ‘No. Orders from the mistress was if the bastard showed his face I was to laugh in it and tell him to piss off.’

Interesting. And it didn’t sit well with what was left of the theory, either. I was getting the distinct impression that we’d been ploughing the wrong furrow here altogether. ‘Fair enough,’ I said.

‘Business, was it?’

‘Business’ll do.’

‘OK. Wait there.’

I waited there. Five minutes later, he came back out.

‘The mistress’ll see you,’ he said, and stepped aside.

She was sitting in the atrium. Not quite so dolled up this time, but still wearing a mantle that was the height of fashion.

‘Well, Valerius Corvinus,’ she said. You could’ve used the tone to pickle eggs. ‘You’re still here, I see.’

‘Yeah. Evidently. In fact, we’re thinking of taking the let of a villa of our own along the coast. The Rusticellius place. You know it?’

‘Not offhand, no.’ She didn’t sound exactly thrilled with the prospect.

‘Your friend Fundanius recommended it to me when I dropped in on him yesterday morning,’ I said.

That got me a glare. ‘Publius Fundanius is no friend of mine,’ she snapped. Forget the pickled eggs; make that mummies, with an extra dose of natron thrown in for good measure.

‘Business associate, then.’

‘Not that either. And if he told you, or implied, any differently then it was an outright lie.’

Hmm. That came across as genuine, particularly after what I’d heard from the Last of the Titans at the front door. Either she was playing a very close game really, really well or the theory – what poor ragged tatters were left of it – was definitely up the creek. ‘Strange,’ I said. ‘I could’ve sworn I saw your man Doccius on the premises as I was leaving. I wondered if you’d maybe sent him over there for some reason.

Her face … set. That was the only word for it. The expression on it was pure concrete. ‘Publius Doccius,’ she said, ‘is no longer in my employ, or a member of this household. You may well have seen him at Fundanius’s, since I know nothing of his whereabouts. He may just as well be there as anywhere else.’

I tried not to let the surprise show on my face. ‘Your doing, or his?’ I said.

Another glare, hundred-candelabra strength. ‘Valerius Corvinus, that is absolutely none of your business,’ she said. ‘But since you ask, at mine. I found that he had been … not strictly honest.’ I had to stop a smile. ‘Over a considerable period.’

‘You care to give me some examples?’

‘I most certainly would not. I told you, it is no business of yours. However, it involved the company’s finances.’ She straightened her mantle with a savage jerk of her hand. ‘Apropos of which. Why exactly are you here? I said: my husband was not murdered, and I regard the matter of his stabbing as closed. I can’t see what other business you’d have with me.’

Couldn’t she? Well, maybe not after all; that news about Doccius leaving had been a facer, and no mistake. At the very least, it needed thinking about.

Unless, of course, he hadn’t left at all, as such, and she was still playing games …

‘Actually, Mamilia, I came to tell you just that,’ I said mildly. ‘I know now who stabbed your husband and why.’

She was rocked, I could see that. And, despite herself, curious.

‘Tell me,’ she snapped.

‘Uh-uh.’ I shook my head. ‘That wasn’t part of the deal. Quite the reverse. But I didn’t think it was altogether fair just to go back to Rome and leave you thinking the mystery was unsolved.’

‘Was it Fundanius?’ Then, when I shook my head: ‘Doccius?’

Interesting again; she was no fool, this lady. And it suggested that she’d been up front about the bastard having been got rid of. I added it to my list of things to think about.

‘No,’ I said. ‘Believe me, you wouldn’t know the guy, or even recognize his name, so that side of things isn’t important. Like you keep saying, there was no murder, your husband was dead already. All I’ll tell you is that, yes, the man thought at the time he’d murdered him, he even thought so when I faced him with it, but it wasn’t a killing for … well, call them for the sake of argument business reasons.’ She had the grace to blink. ‘It was purely personal. He did it out of revenge. Not for something that your husband did to him but on behalf of one of his family.’

I’d used the feminine form, of course, and she was staring at me.

‘A woman?’ she said.

‘Uh … yeah,’ I said cautiously. ‘His sister, as it happens. But it wasn’t what-’

Completely unexpectedly, Mamilia laughed, and she went on laughing. All I could do was look on amazed until she finally stopped.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said when she’d finished and dried her eyes with her mantle. ‘That was quite unforgivable. But Marcus? You never knew my husband, Corvinus, so you won’t see how funny it is. I never knew he had it in him. And there was always such a lot of Marcus for something to be in. Such a terrible lot, even when he was younger.’ She giggled again; it was like watching a caryatid have hysterics. ‘I am so glad you told me. That is possibly the first laugh I’ve had out of the man since I married him. Thank you.’

‘Uh … you’re welcome,’ I said, getting up. Strange woman, Mamilia. Well, if she got a kick – in whatever form – out of the thought that her husband had been a philanderer and been murdered, or practically murdered, as a result, then who was I to disillusion her?

On the other side – the black side – she must’ve really hated the guy. Or no, not hated; hated was too positive. Despised came close, but I wondered if even that was too strong. I suspected that Mamilia hadn’t been totally conscious of her husband’s existence as part of her life. Which was sad, but it explained a lot. It explained everything, really.

Mamilia had stood up too. ‘So you’re off back to Rome?’ she said; she was almost chatty now.

‘No, not straight away,’ I said cautiously. ‘I’ve got one or two other things to see to before that happens.’

‘Oh, yes, the villa. Of course. I hope you find it suits. And naturally, if you do find yourself an Ostian resident, albeit a part-time one, you must let me know. I think we might come to like each other.’

‘I’ll do that,’ I lied; caryatids have never been my bag, particularly ones prone to sudden giggling fits or bouts of hysteria. And I still wasn’t hundred per cent certain of Mamilia’s bona fides where the case was concerned. Eighty per cent, sure, but still.

She saw me out.