Solid Citizens (27 page)

Fool!

Oh, I knew who the murderer was now, sure I did; that much was obvious from the dream-Lucius’s crack about a mule being the wrong kind of animal. The why … well, that I could only make an intelligent guess at, but it’d come in time, no doubt, along with the rest of the fine detail.

It was just after sunup, but luckily my host was an early riser. I ate a quick breakfast, left as hurriedly as politeness would allow me to, collected my horse from the stable, and headed back down the road to Castrimoenium and Bovillae.

I
didn’t bother stopping off at the villa in passing: Bovillae was only another four miles, it was barely noon, and I might as well finish this now.

Confirmation first. There was a hackney stables next to the Tiburtine Gate itself and it’d been a long hard ride, so instead of leaving my horse as usual at the water-trough to drink himself sick I took him in there for a rub-down and a well-earned rest with a full nosebag while I carried on to the brothel.

This time the door was open, although there was a sign on the door saying the place was closed for business due to a bereavement, and the posts and lintel were hung with cypress. I didn’t bother to knock.

Carillus met me in the lobby. He must’ve read my face, because he stopped himself from saying whatever he’d been going to say, and just stood there with an expression like a patient waiting for the surgeon’s knife, or a sacrificial bull for the hammer.

Ah, hell. Get it over with.

‘Caesius was never in here at all,’ I said. ‘Not while he was alive, anyway. Not on the night he died, not at any time. That whole side of things was an invention from beginning to end.’

Carillus closed his eyes briefly, swallowed, and then nodded.

‘Yes,’ he said. ‘How did you know?’

‘It’s the only answer that makes sense, pal. Why should the guy visit a brothel? One that only provided female partners, anyway. He didn’t like women, everything points to that. There was the business with your mistress’s brother Gratillus seventeen years back, and his own brother Lucius dropped enough hints about his relationship or lack of one with his wife for it to be obvious to anyone but a cloth-eared idiot like me. Oh, he had a wife, he was married, sure; but it was a marriage of convenience, on his side at least, and for him not being married wasn’t an option. Not if he wanted to get on. Bovillae’s pretty strait-laced. The good townsfolk expect their representatives to be solid family men with solid, dutiful wives in the background, even if the marriage does turn out to be childless. And there was his wife’s income from her first marriage, which would’ve helped bankroll a political career. His major-domo was in on the secret, of course: you can’t keep things from your major-domo, and he’d been with Caesius all his life. His wife and sister-in-law, too. But they were all on Caesius’s side, as it were: they wanted his reputation kept intact.’

‘He wasn’t a bad man, sir,’ Carillus said. ‘Oh, I know my mistress hated him, and she had good reason. But he was honest enough by his own lights, and he served the town well.’

‘Yeah. Agreed.’ That was part of the tragedy: even the Gratillus affair was at least understandable, given the social and moral code the guy had been brought up with. That we’re all brought up with, to be fair: slaves aren’t real people, they’re property, and like Galla had said, he had genuinely believed it when he’d claimed he’d been merciful. ‘No argument there. So. That’s the background. Let’s cut to the chase, shall we? What happened that night was that he died elsewhere and Andromeda and Mettius brought him here, yes?’

‘Yes.’

‘How did they know? That he’d been murdered, I mean?’

‘That was Dossenus. He’s—’

‘Yeah,’ I said. ‘I’ve met Dossenus.’ Fuck; another piece of the puzzle slipped into place. ‘The vagrant, right?’

‘Yes. My mistress kept an eye out for him, saw he didn’t starve. He had a soft spot for her. Dossenus was the one who found the body. He came and told her.’

‘This would be inside the old wool warehouse, or what’s left of it, further down the street, wouldn’t it?’

‘Yes. It’s where he sleeps, usually.’

‘Did he see the actual murder?’

‘That I don’t know. Very probably, but he didn’t say. He was frightened to death, barely coherent.’

‘So then Mettius and your mistress went and collected the corpse and brought it back here?’

He hesitated. ‘The mistress, no, sir. That was no job for a woman. She stayed here, to keep watch, and Mettius and I carried it between us. Caesius was still wearing his cloak and hood, and we made sure his head was covered. If we’d met anyone we’d have said he was drunk, but fortunately that didn’t happen.’

‘Fair enough. You took him into Andromeda’s sitting room?’

‘Yes. It was just after sunset. The mistress told us to wait for an hour so she could pretend later that he’d been with one of the girls, then to carry him out the back door and dump him in the alleyway. Which is what we did.’

‘Lydia. The girl he was supposed to be with. How did you square her?’

Carillus smiled. ‘Oh, Lydia wasn’t any trouble, and she was glad to help. She’s a very intelligent girl, the brightest we have, and the mistress coached her carefully. I don’t think she would’ve told you much. Did she?’

‘No. No, she didn’t.’ Right; well, that would teach me not to go by first impressions, wouldn’t it? ‘So in effect Andromeda created a scenario from whole cloth that she could give when the body was found the next day: not only had Caesius been tomcatting that evening, but he was a regular customer. She couldn’t kill him herself now, because he was dead already, but she could destroy his reputation. Or at least give it her best shot.’

‘Yes, sir. That’s it exactly.’

Ironic, really, that she’d had to go for a fake way of doing that when there was a genuine one to hand, and after the business with her brother she must’ve at least suspected the truth. But there again Caesius had been careful to save that side of things for his trips to Rome; where his life in Bovillae was concerned he was as squeaky clean as everyone thought he was. Andromeda would’ve had to make the best use of what she’d got within the time available, and she’d managed that pretty well. Like I said, she’d been a smart cookie, that lady.

‘What about the figurine?’ I said.

Carillus frowned. ‘What figurine, sir?’

‘The little bronze Caesius had with him. The runner.’ He was still looking blank. ‘Aulus Mettius didn’t take it?’

‘He picked something up from beside the body and put it in his cloak pocket, sir. But I didn’t see what it was.’

‘Never mind, pal. It doesn’t matter.’ Sure it mattered: it had killed him, and Andromeda too. But Carillus didn’t need to know that. I stood up. ‘Thanks. Oh, one more thing. Dossenus. Your mistress – or Mettius, possibly – warned him against talking, right?’

‘Yes. It was hardly necessary, because as I said he was frightened out of his wits, or what he has of them. But Mettius told him that if the news got out that Caesius had died inside the wool store he would be the obvious suspect. That was quite enough.’

Yeah, I thought grimly, it would be: when he’d talked to me as the guy officially empowered to point the final finger the poor bugger had desperately wanted to make it absolutely clear that he hadn’t been involved. It did mean, though, that we had another witness to what happened, if we needed one. And he might just have seen the murder, after all, which would be a definite plus.

Which brought me to the next part, the nasty bit. I’d have to pay a call on Silius Nerva, explain the situation, borrow a couple of the town’s rod men for muscle, and then confront the murderer.

Not a job for the day before the start of the Winter Festival, but it had to be done.

I knocked on the front door, and Baebius’s young slave opened it. He frowned when he saw the two rod men – one of them, by an ironic twist of fate, was Manlius’s pal Decimus – but said nothing.

‘You think we could see the master?’ I said.

‘Yes, sir. Of course.’ He stepped aside. ‘He’s in the study. If you wouldn’t mind waiting, I’ll—’

‘No, that’s OK. We’ll go straight through.’

The frown deepened. He opened his mouth to speak, but then obviously thought better of it.

‘As you wish, sir.’

He led us through the atrium, stopped outside a panelled door, and knocked.

‘Come in.’

‘That’s fine, pal,’ I said before the slave could open the door. ‘We can take it from here. Just leave us in private, right?’

He gave me a scared, sideways look and went back down the corridor.

I went in. Baebius was sitting at his desk, writing. His eyes narrowed when he saw the rod men, and he put the pen down.

‘Corvinus,’ he said. ‘This is a surprise. And why the lictors? I didn’t know you’d been promoted to aedile.’

‘They’re just helping out,’ I said. ‘Forget they’re here.’

‘Rather difficult, but I’ll do my best.’ He sat back. ‘Well, no matter. What can I do for you?’

‘Let’s start with the bronze,’ I said. ‘The Runner. You have got it, haven’t you?’

He stared at me, his face expressionless. Then he stood up, went across to a cupboard in the wall and opened it.

‘There you are,’ he said, taking out the figurine inside and holding it up. ‘I’m sorry for lying to you, but you can understand why I did it. If I’d admitted that Caesius had actually turned up for our rendezvous it might have placed me in a very difficult situation.’

‘So you had it all the time?’

‘Yes, of course. I said: the agreement was that Caesius would exchange it for a similar piece plus a sum of money. Everything happened as I told you, except for the fact that the exchange was made after all.’

‘In that case, what happened to the replacement and the cash?’

‘I’ve no idea. He certainly had both when he left me. Presumably they were taken from him by whoever killed him.’

‘Behind the brothel.’

‘Naturally. Or inside it, or wherever.’

‘There’s only one problem with that, pal,’ I said. ‘Caesius wasn’t killed behind the brothel. He didn’t go near the place. He was killed where you met him, at the wool store. And he was killed much earlier than everyone believed, around sunset, at the time you said you were meeting him.’

The silence lengthened, and I heard the two rod men shifting their weight behind me. Baebius glanced at them, moved back to the desk, carefully set the figurine down, and resumed his seat.

‘Is that so, now?’ he said.

‘You want to tell me what actually happened? Or shall I tell you?’

‘Go ahead. I’d be most interested.’

There was a stool next to the desk. I pulled it up and sat down.

‘Fine,’ I said. ‘First of all, there was no exchange. Or at least, you never got your hands on the bronze. Not then, anyway.’

‘So when did I, if I have it now?’

‘My guess is that you set the meeting up intending to kill Caesius from the start. Only when you’d done it something went wrong. You found that you were being watched, by the vagrant who sleeps there, a guy by the name of Dossenus. So you panicked and ran, leaving the bronze behind.’

‘Corvinus, please! The thing’s worth, what, twenty thousand sesterces, yes? A large amount of money, agreed, but I’m a wealthy man with a position to think of, and beautiful though it is, it’s scarcely a unique piece. I’m hardly likely to plan and commit a murder for a trivial reason like that, am I?’

‘Yeah, well,’ I said. ‘As far as motive’s concerned, we’ll leave that side of it for now. But that’s the way it happened; like I said, there was a witness who saw the whole thing.’ I gave him the lie straight, without blinking – it might even be true. ‘Anyway, Dossenus goes to Opilia Andromeda and tells her the whole story. Her boyfriend Mettius, who’s spending the night in her flat, picks up the body and takes it inside, together with the statuette. Then, sometime over the next couple of days, being the crook he is and having no particular reason to see his uncle’s killer brought to justice, he decides to do a bit of business on his own account. Just for the fun of it rather than the actual profit, although where Andromeda’s concerned the cash’ll be very welcome. He comes to you, tells you he knows what you’ve done, and promises to keep his mouth shut for an appreciable consideration. He’s an honest crook, though, as crooks go, and not a proper thief
per se
, so he says he’ll throw in the Runner as a gesture of good faith. You agree to meet him in the pine grove above his villa to complete the deal. I’m not sure about this bit, but the chances are that Andromeda was waiting close by, to see how things turned out, and she was the one to find her boyfriend’s body, well before Quintus Roscius happened along.’ Baebius hadn’t moved, or reacted in any way since he’d last spoken, but now he smiled. ‘Anyway, when Mettius turns up carrying the bronze to fulfil his part of the bargain you kill him instead. Then, the following night, just to make sure your secret’s safe, you go to his girlfriend’s flat above the brothel and kill her as well.’ I paused. ‘OK. So how am I doing?’

‘It wasn’t murder,’ he said quietly. ‘Not the first death. You were wrong about that. Caesius’s death was an accident.’

Joy in the morning!

‘Fine,’ I said. ‘You want to tell me?’

‘Why not? You have most of it. You may as well get your facts right. And I’m no killer, not by nature. Mettius and the woman – well, they were necessary. Besides, as you say, one was a crook and the other was a whore.’

Delivery cold as hell. If I’d had any sympathy for him – which I didn’t, really – that’s when it would’ve vanished.

Baebius picked up the statuette and turned it over in his hands. He didn’t look at me.

‘I was in Rome halfway through last month,’ he said. ‘There was a new club I’d heard of which had recently opened, and I wanted to look it over. A gentleman’s club, very private, very expensive.’

‘The Crimson Lotus. In Pallacina Road.’

His eyes came up, and for the first time they showed genuine surprise. ‘Now how the
hell
did you know that?’ he said.

‘You were there a few days ago. I saw you myself.’

There was a long silence. Baebius’s eyes were still locked with mine. Then he shrugged and dropped his gaze.