‘Marcus,’ Perilla said, taking me by the arm, ‘perhaps we should leave Daistratus alone to work in peace, yes?’ She edged me towards the door.
‘It’s a reasonable point, lady. I mean, we are paying for the thing. Have paid, rather. If it’s supposed to be unique and half a dozen other lucky people have practically the same picture on their wall –’
‘Marcus!’ she hissed. The edging got a lot more insistent. You could’ve used the glare I was getting from the Artist Known as Daistratus to weld metal.
‘Fair enough. See you later, friend,’ I said to him. ‘Keep up the good...ah…keep up the work, okay?’
We went back into the atrium, Perilla maintaining an arm-lock and a frigid silence throughout.
‘If that guy’s having it off with Rutilia Secunda then he’ll need a stepladder and a bit of help,’ I said. Rutilia was the poetry-klatsch pal who’d given Perilla the recommendation in the first place. She stood six feet one in her socks and was built like an all-in wrestler.
‘Don’t be crude,’ Perilla snapped.
‘Yeah, well.’ I lay down on the couch and set the wine cup on the table. There again, maybe I was doing the woman an injustice. I doubted that Daistratus would have much on his mind beyond his art. If you could call it that.
‘So. How was your morning?’ Spoken with careful deliberation; we’d obviously reached an obligatory change of subject here. Which was fine by me. I took another swallow of wine and told her.
‘You think this Paetinius has something to do with the boy’s disappearance?’
‘It’s possible. Everything’s possible. I hope not, though. The time to work along these lines is when we find the corpse.’ I made the sign against bad luck. ‘Sorry, lady. That slipped out.’
‘Will there be one? A corpse, I mean?’
‘Perilla, I don’t know. Honestly. Young Luscius has just disappeared, that’s all. We’ve no reason to think he’s dead, quite the reverse, because he walked out of the place of his own accord. It’s just a question of finding where he is, and that’s difficult enough.’
‘You’ve no leads? None?’
‘Not a sniff.’ I finished off the Setinian and set the cup down. ‘My best bet’s that he’ll get in touch with his girlfriend. Although where that leaves me vis-à-vis Eutacticus is another matter, because I doubt if sweet Sempronia’s likely to share the information with her daddy. Or her stepmother either, to tell the truth. She might not even tell me. I mean, why should she?’
‘So what are you going to do?’
‘Sit tight. Wait. Keep my fingers crossed. And if Eutacticus loses patience watch my back.’
‘That’s scarcely fair, dear. You’ve tried your best.’
‘That bastard doesn’t do fair. He’s known for it.’
‘Then have a word with one of the city judges and let Eutacticus know you’ve done it. He wouldn’t dare interfere with you then.’
I sighed. ‘Perilla, there’s a good chance that whoever I talked to got to be a judge in the first place because Eutacticus chipped in to fund his election campaign. Or maybe he just has the guy and his wife round to dinner regularly and pulls out all the stops, or gets them prime seats at the Games. That sort of thing. Nothing too obvious, but he’s a top-level professional crook, and he’s good at his job. He knows if you want a blind eye turned you have to pay for it, and he’s got enough to do that ten times over. So me, I wouldn’t place any bets.’
‘Hmm.’ Perilla frowned. ‘Well, as you say we’ll just have to await developments.’
* * *
We got them the next morning. In spades. Sempronia sent a skivvy round to say that the bodies had been found.
CHAPTER EIGHT
They were lying inside one of those artificial grottoes sacred to Pan and the Nymphs that you get in the bigger gardens, tucked away in a carefully-landscaped patch of wilderness and screened by ivy, ferns and general bosk. If there is such a word. This particular example was right against the rear boundary wall of the property, on the opposite side of the house from the main gate and backing directly onto a stretch of undeveloped hillside. Young Titus Luscius had been stabbed through the heart. The slave Lynchus had had his throat cut.
Shit.
The packs were stuffed into the back of the grotto. I pulled them out to where the light was better and undid the draw-strings. Not a lot there, even in the bigger one, which must’ve been Luscius’s: a cloak, a fresh tunic, a change of underwear, that was about what you got. No money: he would’ve been carrying a purse, sure, but that must’ve been on his belt, and whoever had killed him had probably taken it as a bonus. There was some blood on the rocky floor, but not all that much, certainly not enough to go with the slave’s slit throat; that must’ve been done outside.
Well, that was that. At least we knew where we were, now. If that was any consolation, which it wasn’t.
I came back out into the sunshine to where Sempronia was waiting, arms tightly hugging her chest, head turned away. A small group of slaves were standing in a huddle a few yards off, like a Greek chorus who’d discovered they were in the wrong play. Two of them were holding stretchers. I crouched down and inspected a stain on the grass to one side of the grotto entrance. Yeah, right: blood, although mostly washed away by the trickling stream of runoff water. That was where Lynchus must’ve been standing. There were splashes on the surrounding rocks, too, and at more or less head height on the outward-facing side of the entrance. Easy enough to spot, but only if you were looking for them.
Sempronia must’ve heard me. ‘Stasimus found them,’ she said, without turning round. ‘He’s one of the garden slaves. He had a...an assignation with one of the maids here, just before dawn.’
Her voice was colourless, but the tone was matter-of-fact and she was holding herself in well. She’d been doing it ever since I’d arrived at the house, and she’d insisted on taking me to the grotto herself. Like I said, Eutacticus’s daughter was no fluffy kitten. The best thing I could do was match her.
‘Was there any reason for Titus to come here?’ I said. ‘I mean, any special reason that you know of?’
She turned. ‘Yes. It was where we met, when we wanted to be together. Where we arranged to meet. No one ever comes to this part of the garden, especially at this time of year.’
‘Uh-huh.’ Well, that made sense. And, of course, it explained why this Stasimus had chosen it for his own clandestine amorous activities. ‘Anyone know about that?’
‘No.’ She shrugged. ‘Or not that I’m aware of. We were very careful. But it’s not impossible.’
Right. And it could just be coincidence. The rest of the grounds were fairly open, flower beds and the like. The grotto would be the perfect place to choose for a private meeting of any kind, particularly when there were going to be bodies involved at the end of it. If you knew it was there, that is.
‘Ah...you happen to know if your father’s accountant is around this morning?’ I said neutrally. ‘Astrapton?’
Not neutrally enough. Sempronia was no fool. She shot me a look.
‘Probably,’ she said. ‘I’ll send one of the slaves to find out.’
‘No, that’s OK. I’ll go myself.’
‘Then I’ll come with you.’
‘You sure?’
‘Yes. Oh, yes. Very sure.’ She took a deep breath. ‘Have you finished here, Valerius Corvinus? With the...with Titus, I mean.’
I nodded. She turned to the slaves. ‘Carry them into the house,’ she said. ‘Carefully, please. Critias has made the arrangements. He’ll tell you where to put them.’
The slaves unrolled the stretchers. We left them to it and walked back towards the house in silence. Sempronia didn’t look back at the grotto. Or at me.
‘If it was Astrapton who did it,’ she said eventually, ‘I’ll have him crucified. And if I can I’ll hammer the nails in myself.’
Ouch! ‘We can’t be sure that he’s the killer,’ I said. ‘He lied about seeing them leave, but that’
s as far as it goes. What reason would he have?’
‘I don’t know. But the lie is enough. If he won’t explain that now to me then my father’ll persuade him otherwise. He’s very good at persuasion.’
My stomach went cold. No fluffy kitten was right, in spades. Sempronia was no girl to cross.
We went inside and through the house to the annexe where the accountant had his office. The cubby-hole was empty. Without a word, Sempronia led me to the clerks’ room further along the corridor where four or five slaves were working. They looked up startled as we came in.
‘Where’s Astrapton?’ she said.
‘In a meeting with the master, miss,’ one of the slaves said.
‘He know anything about the finding of young Master Titus’s body earlier this morning?’ I asked.
That got me a nervous look. ‘Yes, sir. Of course. We all do.’
Par for the course: nothing escapes the slave grapevine for long. Sure, the bastard might be with Eutacticus. And pigs might fly. In any case, it would be easy enough to check.
We left them staring.
* * *
Eutacticus was in his own office, sitting behind his desk. Alone. For a guy who’d just lost a stepson he looked pretty normal, but then paroxysms of grief were clearly something else he didn’t do. That and allow a little thing like a murder in the family to interrupt his business duties. The bastard wasn’t even wearing mourning.
‘Well?’ he said.
‘Where’s Astrapton, Father?’ Sempronia asked.
Eutacticus put down the pen he was holding. ‘In his office, presumably,’ he said. ‘Why?’
‘The clerks seem to think that he came here. For a meeting.’
‘No. I haven’t seen him since yesterday. And there was certainly no meeting arranged. What’s this about?’
‘The chances are he’s done a runner,’ I said.
‘We think he killed Titus,’ said Sempronia.
Eutacticus stared at us. ‘Astrapton? That’s nonsense. Why the hell would Astrapton want to kill Titus?’
‘Yeah, well, it’s just a possibility at present,’ I said. ‘Still, the guy lied to me about seeing him and his slave leave the house the morning they disappeared. And now he’s gone missing himself.’
Eutacticus got up, went to the door, opened it, and yelled: ‘Critias!’ Then he turned back to me. ‘You’re sure about that?’ he said.
‘Like your daughter said. The boys in his department told us he was here with you. He isn’t. And he knew the bodies’d been found. What do you think?’
‘I don’t know at present, Corvinus. But if he has disappeared, and he was involved in Titus’s murder, then –’
‘Yes, sir.’ The major-domo. Critias.
‘Go down to the gate. Don’t send someone, go yourself. I want to know if Astrapton has gone out this morning, and I want a definite answer brought back within the next two minutes. Clear?’
‘Yes, sir.’ Critias turned to go.
‘And, Critias -’
‘Yes, sir?’
‘If he hasn’t already left then make sure he doesn’t. He’s to be found and brought to me.’
‘Certainly, sir.’ The major-domo left. Where insouciance was concerned, Bathyllus couldn’t’ve done it better.
Eutacticus went back to his chair behind the desk. ‘Right, Corvinus. Sit. I want to talk to you. Sempronia, lose yourself. This is no place for women.’
‘But, Father -’
‘Go!’
I thought she might stand her ground, but she left without a word, closing the door behind her. I pulled up a chair and sat down.
‘Right, Corvinus,’ Eutacticus said. ‘I’m listening. And you’d better make it good, because Astrapton is one of my best employees.’
I shrugged. ‘Nothing else to add, pal.’ He bristled, but I ignored it. ‘When I talked to Astrapton yesterday morning he told me that on the day they disappeared he’d seen your stepson and his slave leaving the premises. Unless they came back later and got themselves murdered then the guy was lying. As to why he’d want to do that, let alone murder them himself, I’ve got no more idea than you have. So get off my back, right?’
I thought I’d gone too far, because Eutacticus’s face had set hard and his hands on the desk-top balled into fists. Then he nodded.
‘All right,’ he said. ‘Fair enough. Then I’ll settle for your theories.’
‘No theories as yet. Just questions.’
‘Namely?’
‘For a start, I’m assuming that Titus being dead changes the rules of the game. The hands-off business on your part. Am I right?’
He was quiet for a long time. Then he said: ‘Look, Corvinus, we didn’t get on, my stepson and me. Occusia’s probably told you. But he was mine. Part of my family until I said different, whatever his thoughts on the matter were, and no one messes with my family and gets away with it. You understand?’
I nodded. Mine. That about summed the cold bastard up. Still, I needed him behind me, and the kid himself was out of it now.
‘So I’ll help you all I can. You just have to ask, whatever it is, whatever it costs, you ask and it’ll happen. In return, I expect you to find my stepson’s killer. Just that. Expect, not just want. Deal?’
Shit. Well, it was the best I was going to get. ‘Deal,’ I said.
‘Good.’ He leaned back in his chair. ‘Now. Second question.’
‘Why would Astrapton want to kill your stepson? Or see him dead, or cover up for his killer? Any and all of these?’
‘I told you. I can’t answer that. No reason, as far as I know. Titus didn’t involve himself in the business, didn’t want to get involved. He and Astrapton had nothing at all to do with each other.’
‘Okay. Leave Astrapton out of it for the moment. Who else would want him dead? What about young Publius Paetinius?’
That got me a look. ‘Who told you about Paetinius?’
‘A friend of Titus’s.’ I wasn’t going to bring Sempronia in, if I could manage not to. That aspect of things I’d keep to myself for the present, and if Eutacticus did get to know about it then it would have to come from the lady herself. ‘He a possibility?’
‘He hated Titus’s guts, certainly. But it’s a long way from hating someone’s guts to murdering them.’
Yeah. True. Still... ‘Anyone else?’
‘No.’ Eutacticus gave me his crocodile’s smile. ‘Where enemies are concerned, Corvinus, if we were talking about me, if I’d been the one lying out there, I could give you a suspect list as long as your arm. But Titus...no, there’s no one else.’
Right. Even so, that little speech had suggested another line of possibilities that I hadn’t thought of up until then. However, that one could wait. ‘Fine. Then let’s try a completely different angle. Tell me about Astrapton himself.’
‘How do you mean?’
‘He your ex-slave or did you bring him in from outside?’
‘The second. He’s been with me for just under five years.’ Eutacticus was frowning. ‘What’s this got to do with Titus? I told you, there was no connection.’
‘Nothing directly. I’m just fishing for ideas. Suppose –’
There was a knock on the door and Critias came in.
‘The gate slave says that Astrapton went through about half an hour ago, sir,’ he said.
Eutacticus swore. ‘He say where he was going?’
‘No, sir. But he turned in the direction of town, and he seems to have been in a particular hurry.’
‘Put the word out. I want that bastard found and brought back. That’s top priority.’
‘Yes, sir.’ Critias left, closing the door behind him.
‘So that’s that, Corvinus. You were right, he’s done a runner.’ Eutacticus swore again. ‘Don’t worry, we’ll get him, I promise you that. Now. What were you saying?’
‘Yeah. Just suppose Astrapton’s taking off didn’t have anything to do with Titus’s death. Or not directly, anyway. What other reaso
n could he have?’
‘That’s obvious. It would be where any accountant was concerned. He’d been fiddling the books and knew he’d been caught.’
‘Had he?’
‘Not to my knowledge. But Astrapton is a sharp cookie, the best accountant I’ve ever had. More, he oversees the incomings and outgoings over the whole stretch of my business dealings, so he’d have a lot of scope. And as long as he wasn’t too greedy he could get away with it, barring a detailed audit. Which is what’s going to be arranged before the day’s out, whether we find the bastard or not.’
‘Fine. Meanwhile: he got any weaknesses that you know of?’
‘Weaknesses?’
‘Women. Boys. Gambling. That sort of thing. Things that if they got known about, or got out of hand, could lead him into trouble.’
Eutacticus frowned. ‘We talking blackmail here?’
‘Something like that. Anything like that, really. I said, I’m just fishing for ideas. You tell me.’
‘Women or boys I don’t know. Probably the first, if anything. I do know he likes to gamble, but then he’s a Greek, what do you expect? As long as he does it with his own money that’s fine with me.’
Well, it wasn’t much of a strand to follow up, but it was better than nothing. Certainly if Astrapton didn’t have a direct reason for muddying the waters re young Titus’s disappearance then being leaned on by the guilty third party was a viable motive. ‘You care to amplify?’ I said.
‘“Amplify?”’
‘Names of friends with a similar hobby? His favourite bookie? Clubs he frequents? That sort of thing.’
‘I don’t know offhand myself. But I’ll find out. And believe me, Corvinus, if the information is there then you’ll have it. That I absolutely guarantee.’
Yeah; I could believe that; Eutacticus had ways of asking questions that I didn’t even like to think about. At least now he was on my side. Or claimed to be, anyway.
I stood up. ‘Fair enough,’ I said. ‘You know where to find me. Any developments, just send a skivvy.’
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