Food for the Fishes (Marcus Corvinus Book 10)

by David Wishart

  ‘Sit down.’ Philippus hadn’t moved. ‘I haven’t started yet.’ I sat. ‘I don’t like customers of mine cheating each other, wherever it happens, my place or someplace else. And I really don’t like customers who I know are bastards doing it to someone I’ve brought here myself in good faith. I don’t like that at all. So I reckon that I owe you. A big one, because it covers your grain barge tip as well.’ He sucked on a tooth. ‘Here’s the payoff. You get yourself over to Puteoli tomorrow. Street just off the market square, I can’t remember offhand what it’s called but you’ll find it. The man you want to talk to is Gaius Frontinus.’ He stood, suddenly. ‘That’s it. Like I say, I hope your wife wins.’

  ‘Hang on. Who’s this Frontinus?’

  ‘That’s all I’m telling you. We’ve a deal. You stick to your part of the bargain and I’ll stick to mine. The account’s clear now. You just talk to Frontinus, hear? And don’t forget, I want to see Florus when you’re done. Calliope’ll come and get me.’

  Before I could answer he’d limped off.

  I stood up and moved back over to the game. Florus was sitting back in his chair grinning, and one look at the board showed me why.

  It was bad; very bad. In fact, it could hardly be worse.

  Hell.

  22

  The game was almost over: there were only three counters still on the board, black ones, two on Perilla’s fourth line and one on the third, ready to be moved off. Plus - and this was the point - one white, waiting to come on.

  Florus leant forwards and picked up the dice. So it was Florus’s throw, on top of everything else. Oh, shit, there went the whole boiling. Still, we’d tried our best; even Mother would have to admit that.

  I would kill Priscus!

  I pushed my way through the crowd of punters - it was a crowd now - and sat down next to Perilla.

  ‘Hey, Corvinus.’ Florus gave me a big grin. ‘How’s the boy? Back in time for the finish, right?’

  ‘Yeah,’ I said.

  ‘Hello, Marcus,’ Perilla said listlessly; the lady looked done in. ‘I’m sorry, but we seem to have lost.’

  ‘Someone’s got to. Luck of the game.’ Florus was still grinning and jiggling the dice, prolonging the agony. My fist knotted. ‘It’s just my night, that’s all.’

  ‘Just shut up and throw, pal,’ I said. Twenty gold pieces and it all to do again. I could’ve wept. Bugger!

  He shrugged and threw. The three dice clattered across the board.

  Two sixes. And a two.

  Behind me, I could hear the breath go out of the punters, but I was watching Florus. His grin had slipped. Two sixes got his back two men off. The two...

  The two left him one to go: a vulnerable singleton on the last line. And now it was Perilla’s turn.

  Suddenly, I felt angry. Anything else and she’d lost, sure, but if she threw a one we were back in the game. The hell with science now; let’s go with the luck. As Perilla reached for the dice, I put my hand over hers, stopping her.

  ‘Hold on, lady,’ I said. I was still looking straight at Florus.

  He frowned. ‘Come on, Corvinus, this is your wife’s game! No interfering. Let her make the throw.’

  ‘In a minute. You want to raise the bet?’

  ‘Do I what?’

  ‘Marcus!’ Perilla whispered.

  I didn’t look at her. ‘You stay out of this,’ I said. There had been a murmur from the punters behind me, but I ignored that too. My eyes were still on Florus. ‘Okay. Here’s the deal, friend. We double the wager –’

  ‘Marcus, have you totally lost your senses?’

  ‘– only if Perilla hits your man and goes on to win after all we take half in information.’

  Long silence; you could’ve heard an ant cough.

  Florus’s eyes shifted. A lot of the bounce had suddenly gone out of him. He licked his lips nervously.

  ‘What kind of information?’ he said.

  ‘The answers to any questions I care to ask you, ten minutes’ worth. Straight, full and delivered under oath.’ I waited, but nothing came. His face had gone grey. ‘Come on, pal! A ten minute chat saves you twenty gold pieces. And that’s only if we win. If we lose, you get forty. Now are you a gambler or aren’t you?’

  It was a close thing. For a minute I didn’t think he’d bite. On the other hand, he’d been called upfront, and no gambler worth his salt likes to knuckle down under these circumstances. Plus the fact that half of Philippus’s was there watching to see him do it. And the odds were fair: Perilla would still be using all three dice. Three chances at a one.

  I’d got the bastard by the short hairs, and both of us knew it.

  ‘Treble,’ Florus said. I doubt if you could’ve pried his teeth apart with a crowbar.

  ‘Fine with me,’ I said. ‘Treble it is. Same deal: twenty in cash, the rest the other way.’

  ‘Marcus, have you gone completely mad?’ I could feel Perilla staring at me. ‘That’s sixty gold pieces!’

  Yeah, well, maybe she had a point at that. But it was too late to go back now. ‘Just throw, lady,’ I said.

  She shook the dice. I crossed my fingers, held my breath and prayed to whatever god protected half-assed, brain-dead purple-stripers who didn’t know when to cut their losses and go home gracefully...

  A five, a three and a one.

  Perilla squealed, two of the punters behind me cheered, and one plummy-voiced senator type murmured ‘Oh, good show, madam!’ Florus just looked sick.

  I breathed out and grinned. Jupiter! That had been close! We weren’t out of the woods yet, sure, not by any means, but at least we were back in there and punching. Now it was a straight race; except, of course, if one of them hit the other’s piece on the way round...

  Perilla’s five and three took her to the ninth line. Florus’s turn, coming on from scratch. He reached automatically for the dice and threw: a six, a two and a four, putting him straight up to his twelfth, half way round the board. Shit; he had the edge, three lines ahead. And if Perilla didn’t get the four that would send him back again then it was all in the dice. The chances of three ones I just didn’t like to think of.

  She got them all the same.

  Behind me, there was a hiss of indrawn breath and one of the punters swore fluently. I knew how he felt. Me, I just gritted my teeth and said nothing.

  Florus was grinning again. A one would give him a hit and put us back to the start, and I doubted if we’d be lucky a second time. There again, anything over twelve and he’d won the game anyway. Bugger. He jiggled the dice and threw.

  A five, a four and a two. Well, at least we were off the hook for the moment: he’d missed her singleton and fallen short of the straight win. Still, it only left him two lines shy of home, and with three dice that was it.

  So it was all on this throw. And, like Florus had been, Perilla was only on her twelfth line.

  ‘Come on, lady,’ I said. ‘Thirteen or better. Can you do that for me?’

  She smiled faintly. ‘I’ll try, dear. But no promises.’

  She picked up the dice and rolled them.

  Two sixes and a five. She whooped, and hugged me.

  Yeah, well, when the lady does something she does it with style. The punters erupted.

  ‘Okay, pal,’ I said to Florus through the hubbub. ‘You and me are going to have a little talk.’

  The three of us (‘I’m not being left out now, Marcus! Not after I’ve done all the work!’) went over to the table I’d been sitting at with Philippus. Florus was looking sick as a dog. I’d brought the wine jug over with me and I filled both our cups. No point in being cruel, and the bastard looked like he needed it just as badly as I did. He sank his in a oner.

  ‘Right,’ I said. ‘Give. Let’s start with that grain barge deal. And you’re on oath, remember. Gambling debts are sacred.’

  ‘There’s nothing to tell! It’s all above-board!’

  ‘Fine.’ That didn’t explain why he’d practically filled his pants whe
n we’d bumped into each other at Nerva’s a few hours ago, mind. Or why he’d looked like running when he’d caught sight of me that evening. Or why he was sweating now like a pig in a steam bath. However, we’d take things as they came. ‘So we’ll just begin with the straight facts, okay?’

  ‘Aulus and I are partners. We’re going to buy the barge - it’s one of these big ones that go from Egypt to Puteoli - do it up and moor it offshore as a floating gambling hall and brothel.’ He glanced sideways at Perilla. ‘I’m sorry, but he did ask.’

  ‘That’s all right.’ Perilla gave him a bright smile. The lady was looking chirpy as hell. Jupiter, it’d be months before I took the bounce out of her for this! ‘I’m not offended, Aquillius Florus. A brothel is a very good investment, and it keeps girls off the streets.’

  I ignored her. ‘Equal partners?’ I said.

  ‘Yes. Yes, of course!’

  ‘It sounds pricey to me. Where’s the money coming from?’

  Florus coloured up. ‘That’s none of your damn –’ he began.

  ‘Oh, yes it is, pal. As of five minutes ago. Gambling debt, remember? Just answer the question, okay?’

  He subsided. ‘I already had my share. A legacy from an uncle.’

  ‘Congratulations. What about Nerva?’

  This was the sticking point, and both of us knew it. Florus’s eyes shifted. ‘He...was hoping to get it from his father,’ he muttered.

  ‘Yeah. Only his father wouldn’t oblige. Wouldn’t and couldn’t both, because he’d got plans of his own. Expensive plans, connected with the new hotel he wanted to build. Right?’ Florus didn’t answer. ‘Which was why they had the slanging match the day Murena died.’

  ‘He didn’t tell me about that!’

  ‘Maybe not. But believe me, it happened. Fine. So if Nerva wasn’t getting the money from his father, and if your barge scheme was still a viable option, which it was and is because you’re talking about it in the present tense, then where did he propose getting the cash?’ He hesitated. ‘Come on, Florus! Give!’

  ‘From a money-lender in Puteoli. Gaius Frontinus.’

  I kept my face expressionless. ‘Is that so, now?’

  His eyes widened. ‘You know him?’

  ‘I’ve heard of him. Quite recently, as it happens. On what security?’

  The shifty look was back. ‘Aulus has a house of his own. A good one.’

  ‘No one puts his own house up as security for a dodgy business venture, pal. Not unless he’s desperate, or an idiot. And you haven’t answered the question.’

  ‘All right!’ Florus glared at me. ‘Then I don’t know! Whatever the security was, Frontinus accepted it. The why isn’t my business. How he came up with his half of the capital was Aulus’s concern, not mine.’

  ‘Yeah. Only in the event he doesn’t need a loan now, does he? Not with his father and his brother both dead.’

  ‘Titus’s share of the estate goes to his widow. They’ve got a daughter. That’s the law. If the marriage has produced children then –’

  ‘Yeah, I know all that,’ I said. ‘But with his brother dead Aulus Nerva controls the family company’s finances. Together with his father’s partner, sure, technically, at least, but Decimus Tattius isn’t going to make any waves. The widow Catia neither, for different reasons. Oh, and we might add Gellia, too, while we’re on the subject. I understand you’ve got a bit of influence there.’

  If Florus had looked green before he went three shades greener. ‘You leave Gellia out of this,’ he muttered. ‘She’s got nothing to do with it.’

  I’d touched a nerve somewhere. Maybe it was time to probe a little deeper. ‘She’d have a prime motive for killing her husband, wouldn’t she? Mind you, she’d need help.’

  Florus stood up; or tried to, at least, because I grabbed his arm and forced him down again.

  ‘I’d nothing to do with Licinius Murena’s death, Corvinus!’ he said. ‘Nor Chlorus’s. I swear that. If Gellia had, then I know nothing about it. If you think –’

  ‘Yeah. Right. Still, it’s a thought, isn’t it?’

  ‘Put it out of your head. We’re...friends, certainly, I admit that, but I wouldn’t...I couldn’t...’ He swallowed. ‘Gods! You’ve got to believe me! It’s the pure and honest truth!’

  Shit, he was probably right: this long streak of cowardly lard wouldn’t have the guts to murder anyone. Which left one interesting alternative.

  ‘But Aulus Nerva would, right?’ I said softly.

  All the colour drained out of his face. He didn’t say anything.

  ‘Okay,’ I said. ‘Stop faffing around. Just tell me what you know.’

  ‘I don’t know anything! That’s the trouble!’

  ‘Fine. Tell me what you guess.’

  He was quiet for a long time. Then he said: ‘Aulus wasn’t here the night of the murder. He tried to tell you he was, but he wasn’t.’

  ‘Yeah, I know that. I checked. And?’

  ‘He wasn’t here last night, either. When Chlorus died. He should’ve been: we had an arrangement. When I talked to him this afternoon he said he’d had a head-cold and decided to stay in.’

  ‘Did he? Have a head-cold, I mean?’

  ‘He gets them sometimes. But you talked to him yourself, after I left. What’s your answer?’

  Yeah; I saw the guy’s point. Not a sniffle. Still, it might’ve cleared up. All the same, it meant that Aulus Nerva didn’t have an alibi for either the evening of his father’s death or his brother’s. And he’d lied, or tried to lie, about both. Interesting. ‘Is that all?’ He hesitated. ‘Come on, Florus! Gambling debt, forty big ones, remember, and I’m not getting value for money here! Cough it up, pal!’

  ‘He...said he wished his father would drop dead. Or that someone would kill him,’ Florus muttered. ‘The day we agreed on a price for the barge. He said it would...simplify things. He was serious, Corvinus. Really serious.’

  The guy was still white as a sheet, and shaking. Yeah, right: I reckoned we’d got to the heart of that one, finally: Aquillius Florus was scared out of his skin. ‘So,’ I said, ‘you think Nerva murdered his father. And his brother. To get the money for your grain barge scam.’

  ‘Corvinus, I swear to you I don’t know anything more about it! Whatever he did, it’s got nothing to do with me, I’m not involved, okay? If Aulus is a killer then –’

  ‘Right. Right.’ Jupiter, I felt sick myself.

  ‘All I ask is you don’t tell him I’ve told you any of this. If he finds out he’ll kill me too.’

  ‘Fine.’ The only thing I wanted now was to go. ‘Okay, pal. Interrogation over. You still owe us twenty gold pieces in cash. Pay the lady.’

  He took out his purse with a shaking hand and counted out twenty big ones. Then he stood up. ‘Corvinus, I swear –’ he said.

  He stopped. His eyes were fixed on something behind me. I turned.

  Oh, yeah, I’d forgotten; Philippus.

  He was waiting by the stairs, with his two heavies in attendance. I noticed that one of them was the guy who’d punched me in the ribs, and he was wearing a fetching little bandage round his head. I grinned at him and got a glare back.

  ‘Looks like you’re popular tonight, friend.’ I smiled at Florus. ‘We’ll just leave you to it, shall we?’

  He was still staring. Philippus limped forwards, flanked by the heavies. He didn’t look too chuffed, either.

  Me, I know when I’m not wanted. I stood up.

  ‘Okay, Perilla,’ I said. ‘Fun’s over. You had enough excitement for one evening, or should we go somewhere else?’

  She got up and kissed me. ‘Yes, thank you, Marcus. It’s been fascinating. Home, I think. Good night, Aquillius Florus, and thank you for the game. I enjoyed it immensely.’

  Florus gave a strangled grunt. His eyes hadn’t moved.

  ‘Finished, Corvinus?’ Philippus said.

  ‘Yeah, you could say that.’

  ‘Good.’ He turned to Florus and jerked his thumb.
‘You. Upstairs.’

  We dropped the house cut off with Calliope and went outside. Lysias had turned and was parked just up the street, waiting.

  We drove home. It’d been a long, long day, and I was knackered.

  Still, I reckoned we’d got our killer. It was only a question now of wrapping things up.

  23

  The next morning I took the mare into Puteoli.

  With Ostia silting up fast, and despite the distances involved, Puteoli’s Rome’s main port, especially for the grain ships that ply across the Med from Alexandria, so it’s a far bigger place than Baiae, practically a city in its own right like Neapolis. Even so, Philippus’s directions were clear enough for my purposes. I found the market square, mentioned Frontinus’s name to a friendly vegetable-seller and was directed to a two-up-two-down house in a street just off the centre.

  ‘Gaius Frontinus’s?’ I asked the door-slave.

  ‘Yes, sir. The master’s out at the moment, though. On business.’

  Hell. ‘You know when he’ll be back?’

  ‘Can’t say, sir. Was it urgent?’

  ‘Yeah. You could say that.’

  ‘Then you’ll probably find him at Cleisthenes’s emporium. In Five Cedars street.’

  ‘Where’s that, sunshine?’

  He gave me directions. Luckily it wasn’t far: one of the streets the other side of the square. I slipped him a few coppers - door-slaves can always do with a contribution to the liberation fund - and set off back the way I’d come.

  I couldn’t’ve missed Cleisthenes’s. It was one of those big emporia that sell everything for the house, from snail dishes to man-size storage jars, and it filled practically the whole of the block. I parked the mare at a convenient horse-trough and went in. One of the sales-skivvies directed me to a back room on the far side of the central hall.

  I knocked on the door.

  ‘Come in.’

  It was a small office. There were two men there, going through a stack of tablets: a tall lanky one with ‘Greek’ written all over him and a small dumpy one with an Aventine face and rheumy eyes. Despite the Aventine face, what was written all over him, from his pricey Cordoban leather sandals to the pearl earring in his left ear, was money. Yeah, right: that had to be Frontinus.