Solid Citizens (23 page)

‘Fair enough.’ I looked round. Clarus was chatting to the slave, obviously intentionally keeping a low profile while I talked to Roscius. ‘You done, pal?’ I said to him.

‘Yes. Not a lot I can do for you here, Corvinus.’

‘We’ll get going, then. Clarus is my son-in-law,’ I explained to Roscius. ‘He’s the de facto doctor over in Castrimoenium.’ They nodded to each other. ‘Oh, by the way, how’s the business with the farm going? You get that loan problem sorted out?’

‘Yeah,’ he said guardedly. ‘Yeah, that’s all fine now. More or less.’

‘So you managed to square things with Lucius Caesius?’

‘He’s given me a year’s extension, and he’s happy to go beyond that if it’s necessary. I told you, old Lucius is all right, and he isn’t exactly pressed for cash himself now.’

‘I suppose it helps, him being a drinking crony of yours, doesn’t it?’

‘I wouldn’t exactly call him a drinking crony. We see each other around, that’s all.’

‘Like on the night of the murder? When you split a jug or two in the wine shop near the back of the brothel and left together an hour or so after sunset?’

Long silence; he was staring at me. ‘Who told you that?’ he said.

‘You mean it isn’t true?’

‘Sure it’s true, as it happens. So what?’

‘So why did you lie when I asked you where you were that night?’

‘Wouldn’t you? Come on, Corvinus! It didn’t matter. I know I didn’t kill the guy, and it’d only have complicated things.’

Yeah, well; the jury was still seriously out where that was concerned. Still, I let it go unremarked. ‘You go straight home?’ I said.

‘Of course I did! I’d work to do in the morning.’

‘So you didn’t happen to bump into Caesius at all on the way, then? You and good old Lucius?’

I thought he was going to hit me; certainly his fists balled, and his whole body tensed. Then, abruptly and without another word, he turned and walked away, back the way he’d come. At the edge of the trees, he turned again and levelled a finger.

‘You fuck off, Corvinus!’ he said. ‘You just keep the fuck out of my sight from now on! Is that clear?’

‘Yeah.’ I nodded. ‘Yeah, it’s clear. Thanks for your help, Roscius.’

Hmm.

I
let Clarus get on with his rounds, collected my horse from the villa and headed back into town for another word with Opilia Andromeda. Me, I don’t go for coincidences as a rule, and the lady turning up late for work and flustered a scant couple of hours after her lover had had his head bashed in, with every evidence that she’d been away from home, was too coincidental for comfort. Particularly since at that point Mettius’s death hadn’t been reported, so she couldn’t have known about it and it couldn’t have been a factor.

Unless, of course, one way or the other she did.

I’d been thinking things over on the ride into town, and my bet was that the business in the pine grove had been an arranged meeting that had gone wrong. As far as I could see, there were two possibilities that fitted the circumstances, the first being that the meeting was between Mettius and Andromeda, pure and simple. Possible though that scenario might be, circumstantially speaking, it didn’t make any sense: as Vatinia had said, Andromeda never came near the villa, and when the pair got together it was in the comfort of the lady’s flat. So why, if Mettius had wanted to meet his girlfriend or vice versa, should either of them faff around by changing the usual arrangement for something a lot less convenient and, given the weather conditions, a hell of a lot less comfortable? While if there’d been some skulduggery involved on Andromeda’s part – which was hard to credit in itself – surely that would unnecessarily invite her boyfriend’s suspicion.

The second possibility was a lot more likely. My guess was that the meeting had been by arrangement between the two of them on one side and the killer on the other. In which case we were left with the obvious questions of
who
and
why
. I could theorize, sure – Roscius, as being practically on the spot, Baebius, because of the missing statuette, and Manlius’s rod man regarding the weapon used were prime contenders, albeit for different reasons flawed ones – but the simplest way of getting answers was to ask Andromeda herself.

So to the brothel I went. The front door was open, and this time I didn’t stop to knock. I was heading along the corridor towards the lady’s sitting room when Carillus materialized and intercepted me.

‘Can I help you, sir?’ he said.

‘No,’ I said. ‘Not this time, pal. No problem, I was hoping to have another word with the boss, that’s all.’ I made as if to go past him, but he moved directly in front of me, blocking the way.

‘I’m sorry, but you can’t do that,’ he said firmly. ‘The mistress has gone out.’

Right; and I was Cleopatra’s grandmother. I pushed past him without another word, carried on down the corridor, and opened the sitting-room door.

The room was empty. I turned to find Carillus glaring at me.

‘There, sir,’ he said. ‘You see?’

Sure I did, for what it was worth: she’d probably nipped upstairs when she heard my voice and would now be lying low. Even so, I couldn’t bet on it, and in any case, however urgent the matter ostensibly was, forcing my way into her private flat would’ve been taking things too far.

Bugger. Well, we might as well play the game through to the end, if only for appearances’ sake.

‘You any idea where she’s gone?’ I said. ‘Or when she’ll be back?’

‘None whatsoever, sir.’
And you can take a running jump
, Carillus’s tone said.

‘OK. Fine.’ I moved towards the exit. ‘When you see her again, just tell her I called to say that Aulus Mettius has been murdered, will you?’

‘
What?
’ He was staring at me. ‘When?’

‘Early this morning, near his villa.’ I kept on going. ‘No hassle, pal, and no doubt she’ll get the news from someone else in any case, if she hasn’t heard it already. I only thought she might be interested, that’s all.’

I left him gawping, shut the door behind me, and walked off in the direction of the market square.

What now? If we were to discount a talk with Andromeda, at least for the time being, it came down to the mechanics of checking alibis, particularly – because I knew about Roscius’s already, or rather his lack of one – Marcus Manlius’s rod man’s. Clarus hadn’t seen the wound that killed Caesius, sure, so I couldn’t be certain, but I’d bet a gallon of Alban to a busted sandal strap that the two of them would’ve matched. That didn’t automatically make Rod the killer, mind, but like I said where your ordinary everyday rod man’s concerned the weighted stick is the weapon of choice. I didn’t have any problem with likelihood, either: rod men are all bloody-minded thugs with a penchant for GBH as it is, or they wouldn’t be doing the job in the first place, while Rod – Decimus, that was his proper name, wasn’t it? – had already been involved criminally up to his neck in the wool store business. He’d simply be the muscle, sure, with Manlius being the one who gave the orders, but I reckoned in theory at least that that horse would run: Manlius already owed Mettius for blowing the whistle on him and his chum over the wool scam, while if they were behind Caesius’s murder, leaving a loose barrel like Mettius rolling around just wouldn’t be safe.

Yeah, I fancied Manlius, certainly as a comfortable side bet. Particularly with Canidius in the background as an
éminence grise
.

Maybe, though, if I was pushing that angle I should rope in Silius Nerva. I wasn’t exactly
persona grata
with Bovillae’s aedile, and I certainly wasn’t going to ask him straight out if his tame gorilla had zeroed Mettius: Nerva could arrange things more subtly, and with a better chance of a satisfactory result. Besides, the bastard was getting his penny’s worth of effort out of me where this case was concerned as it was.

So. First stop the town offices. If Nerva wasn’t there – which as an ordinary senator he probably wouldn’t be – the public clerk would be able to point me in the right direction.

In the event, I didn’t have to bother looking for him: Nerva was in the square itself, chatting to a guy in a sharp plain mantle who had his back to me. I went over.

‘Ah, Corvinus,’ he said. ‘How did things go at the Mettius villa?’

The other guy turned round. Canidius.

‘Uh, OK,’ I said. ‘Do you have a moment to spare? In private?’

‘Of course.’ He frowned and turned to Canidius. ‘I’ll talk to you later, Sextus, if that’s convenient. But tomorrow evening should be fine. We’ll call it a date, shall we?’

Canidius was giving me a jaundiced stare, which after the circumstances of our last meeting wasn’t surprising.

‘The Mettius villa?’ he said.

Nerva hesitated, and glanced sideways at me. ‘Poor Aulus Mettius has … met with an accident,’ he said. ‘A fatal accident. You hadn’t heard?’

‘No, I hadn’t.’ Canidius didn’t seem too surprised, mind. Or all that shocked, or even interested. ‘Oh, dear. What a pity. Tomorrow evening it is, then, Publius. I look forward to it. Corvinus.’ He gave me the briefest of nods and moved off.

I watched him go. ‘So what’s happening tomorrow evening?’ I said to Nerva.

‘Just a dinner invitation. He and his wife are coming over for a meal.’ Yeah, of course: in a small town like Bovillae, the Great and the Good of the social network would be in and out of each other’s houses all the time, particularly in the festival period. Still, it was a salutary reminder that I couldn’t be absolutely sure of even Nerva’s objectivity. ‘Now, Corvinus, what can I do for you?’

‘I was wondering if you could check on something,’ I said. ‘Manlius’s rod man, or one of them. Would anyone know whether he was doing anything in particular earlier this morning?’

Nerva frowned again. ‘Do you have a reason for asking?’

‘Just checking, like I say. Mettius had his head beaten in, as you know. My son-in-law Clarus says it could’ve been done with some sort of long, weighted stick. The kind that rod men carry.’

‘And you think this man might have been responsible?’

‘It’s … a possibility,’ I said cautiously. ‘If he was elsewhere at the time it’d definitely rule him out.’

‘But why on earth would Marcus Manlius’s rod man want to kill Aulus Mettius?’ Nerva asked. I said nothing. Nerva sighed. ‘Very well, I won’t pry. You’re dealing with the case; you have your reasons for suspecting him, no doubt, and presumably you think they’re valid, or sufficiently so. But as I told you, it’s a bad business.’ He patted my arm. ‘Still. As far as checking on the fellow’s whereabouts is concerned, we can find those out easily enough, in fact we’ll do it now. The lictors are public servants. The clerk over at the town offices should be able to say whether he was on duty today. Follow me.’

The offices were just the other side of the square. We crossed over through the crowd and I followed Nerva up the steps and inside.

‘Ah, Salvius,’ he said to the slave on the desk. ‘This is Valerius Corvinus. He wants to know if one of Aedile Manlius’s lictors by the name of …?’ He glanced at me interrogatively.

‘Decimus,’ I said.

‘By the name of Decimus had any formal duties this morning.’

‘No, sir,’ the slave said. ‘Not today. The aedile was at home, so he wasn’t needed.’

Nerva grunted and turned back to me. ‘There you are, Corvinus,’ he said. ‘Question answered. Of course, Manlius might have told him otherwise, as he has a perfect right to do. If he’s at home at present we can always go over and check. It wouldn’t take long; he doesn’t live far away.’

‘No, that’s OK,’ I said. There was no point: if Decimus had been moonlighting on instructions from his boss, Manlius wasn’t likely to admit it just for the asking, was he? I turned to the clerk. ‘One more thing, pal, while I’m here. You know the night the censor-elect was murdered? Could you happen to tell me if the guy was on duty then?’

‘That’d be after sunset, sir, so no, he wouldn’t be, definitely not. Under normal circumstances, a lictor’s duties fall only between sunrise and sunset.’

Under normal circumstances
. Right.

‘Thanks,’ I said, turning away.

‘Well, Corvinus,’ Nerva said as we left. ‘So your “possibility” is still possible. For what it’s worth, I’m compelled to say.’

‘Yeah, it seems so. Still, it’s only one of several.’ I glanced up at the sky, to where the sun was peeking through the clouds. Getting towards the middle of the afternoon. Well, there wasn’t anything to keep me in Bovillae for the moment, not if Carillus over at the brothel was acting watchdog for his mistress. I really, really needed to talk to her, but it seemed that was going to be difficult now. I just hoped she hadn’t skipped town altogether, which was a distinct possibility. ‘Thanks for your help, Nerva. We’ll leave it there for the present.’

‘I’ll be getting home, then,’ Nerva said. ‘Good luck with the continued investigation. Libanius was quite right to suggest contacting you. You appear to be doing very well.’

Uh-huh. It didn’t exactly feel like that from my side; in fact I’d describe my progress as like wading through glue. The usual problem: too many theories, not enough hard evidence. Still, glue or not we were moving forwards, and at least I was able now to make a case for Decimus the rod man being a possible perp for both murders, with his boss – and, by implication, Canidius – the guiding brains.

Unless, of course, the killer had been Roscius, who together with Brother Lucius was equally if not a hell of a lot more possible where motive and opportunity went. Or Opilia Andromeda, using the second murder of her lover as a cover-up for the first. Then again, ignoring the alibi his door slave had given him, there was always Quintus Baebius …

Glue, pure and simple. Sod it. I was going home, too.

Bathyllus met me in the villa’s entrance lobby with the wine tray, his black eye very much in evidence.

‘Here you are, sir,’ he said, handing me the welcome-home cup of wine. ‘And let me just say I have given my solemn, binding promise to Master Clarus and Mistress Marilla that if I am allowed to stay for the duration of your visit you will have no further cause for complaint. Lupercus has given his word, too. Will that be satisfactory?’