No Cause for Concern

by David Wishart

  ‘A guy by the name of Astrapton,’ I said. ‘He comes here quite often, doesn’t he?’

  Cicirrus swallowed again, and his face took on a faintly greenish tinge. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Astrapton’s one of our regulars. What about him?’

  ‘You know he’s Eutacticus’s accountant?’

  ‘Ah...yes. Yes, I did understand something to that effect.’

  ‘So how’s he been doing lately? Wins and losses? In the red or the black?’

  ‘You mean “lately”, lately?’ His eyes shifted. ‘Neither one nor the other, really. Middle-of-the-road. He might be up or down a few hundred over the course of an evening, but –’

  ‘I told you, pal,’ Satrius said. ‘And I only tell people once. No fudging.’

  ‘Look, the house only takes a percentage, right?’ Cicirrus was definitely green now. ‘We only provide the venue, we don’t set the stakes or the limits. That’s the clients’ own business.’

  ‘Understood,’ I said. ‘Now tell me what you’re not telling me.’

  Cicirrus licked his lips. ‘He went through a bad patch about six months ago that put him twenty thousand down at least. Probably a good bit more, I don’t know exactly. But he paid it off. Or at least, his creditors seem to be perfectly happy with things. Certainly I’ve heard no more about it, and he’s still a client in good standing.’

  I blinked: twenty thousand plus was serious, serious gravy. And not the sort of money that a freedman accountant could come up with in a hurry. Not out of his own pocket, anyway. We’d got the bastard. ‘Can you let me have a list of the creditors concerned, and where I can reach them?’ I said. ‘That possible?’

  ‘Yes. Yes, of course.’ He was sweating now. He reached for a blank tablet and a pen and started scribbling frantically. We waited. Finally, he handed the tablet over to me. ‘There you are. I think that’s all of them.’

  ‘You had better be fucking sure about that, pal,’ Satrius said. ‘Because if we find out that it isn’t –’

  ‘It is! All of them! I swear!’

  I glanced at the tablet. Four names. None of them meant anything to me, but I passed the tablet over to Satrius. He read it, his lips moving. Yeah, well: the guy had other, more germane professional qualities. Like the ability to intimidate the shit out of our sweating friend here. Those four names would be all there were, I was sure of that.

  ‘Any bells?’ I said.

  ‘Nah. They’re just ordinary punters, far as I can see.’ Satrius handed the tablet back to me. ‘Okay, Cicirrus, that’s it for the present. But the boss’ll expect you to drop round for a chat in the very near future. About how his accountant could run up a debt of twenty thousand and then pay it off without you letting him know. Understand?’

  Cicirrus’s Adam’s apple worked its way up and down. ‘Of course. It’ll be a pleasure.’

  Satrius grinned. ‘I doubt that, sunshine. But see it happens, okay? And if there’s anything else you feel like telling him in the meantime, don’t hesitate to get in touch.’

  ‘I will certainly do that.’

  ‘Fine.’ He glanced at me. ‘You finished, Corvinus? Got all you wanted?’

  ‘Sure.’

  ‘Then I’ll be getting back. You can find your own way home?’

  Jupiter! Don’t tell me the guy was metamorphosing into some sort of horrendous baby-minder. ‘Yeah,’ I said. ‘Yeah, I think that I could just about manage that. So long as you point me in the right direction.’

  Satrius grunted, and left. I left, too, but not directly for home: the man at the top of the list lived near Pearlmarket Porch, which was almost on the way back to the Caelian. While I was in this part of town I reckoned I might as well drop in on him and see what his story was.

  * * *

  ‘Would that be Sextilius Acceptus Senior or Junior, sir?’ the door-slave said when I asked if the guy was at home.

  ‘Uh...I’m not sure, pal,’ I said. ‘It’s about a gambling debt.’

  The slave gave a sniff that was pure Bathyllus. ‘Junior, then. I’m not sure if he’s up yet. Your name, sir?’

  I told him.

  ‘Very well. If you’d care to wait in the lobby I’ll find out.’

  He went off to do that small thing while I kicked my heels in the Sextilii-Accepti-plural lobby. Evidently unshaven strangers - I hadn’t had a chance to get round to that before Laughing George had shown up - calling on the subject of the son and heir’s gambling debts didn’t rate the atrium. Not that the slave had shown much surprise.

  The slave came back. ‘He’ll be down in a moment, sir. If you’d like to come through to the study.’

  It took considerably longer than a moment, but Acceptus the Younger finally crept in. Crept being the operative word: if I knew a hangover when I saw it - and I did, believe me, from when I was this kid’s age - then this one was a beaut, the full don’t-speak-too-loudly-because-my-head’ll-fall-off catastrophe.

  ‘What did you say your name was?’ he said.

  ‘Corvinus. Valerius Corvinus.’

  ‘Never seen you before in my life.’ He frowned. ‘Have I?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘So what’s this about a gambling debt?’

  ‘It’s not to me, pal. And I’m not putting the bite on. All I want is some information.’

  The frown vanished; he looked relieved. ‘About what?’

  ‘You know a guy by the name of Astrapton?’

  ‘Yeah, I know Gaius Astrapton. We play together regularly at the Fleece, us and a few friends.’

  ‘When did you last see him?’

  ‘A couple of days ago. He took a cool hundred off me.’

  ‘He, uh, reliable? Where money’s concerned?’

  ‘Sure, he’s reliable.’ The frown was back. ‘We wouldn’t cut him in if he wasn’t. What’s this about? He owe you money?’

  ‘No. But I was told that he took a real pasting about six months back. Twenty thousand plus.’

  ‘Yeah, that’s so. Twenty five, as a matter of fact. What business is it of yours?’

  ‘And that he settled the debt in full. I was just wondering where the money came from.’

  Acceptus chuckled. ‘You saying you think it wasn’t his?’

  ‘It’s a possibility. I’m looking into things for his boss.’

  ‘His boss?’

  ‘Yeah. Anything strange about that?’

  ‘It’s news to me, that’s all. I didn’t know he had a boss. Oh, he’s a freedman, sure, but I thought he had a business in his own right. A pretty thriving one, at that, import and export.’

  ‘Is that so, now?’

  ‘Sure. Not that he said so, in so many words, but that was the impression I got. That we all got. We didn’t ask outright. House etiquette: so long as he pays his way and settles his debts, outwith the Fleece a guy’s private life is his own affair. If he wants to keep it quiet, that’s his concern.’ He was frowning again. ‘You’re saying Astrapton’s been on the take? Dipping his hands in the till?’

  ‘So it would seem. He settle the debt in cash?’

  ‘Cash money, as ever is, silver piece for silver piece. No quibbles, no delays. So where is he now?’

  ‘I don’t know. He’s disappeared, and his boss is looking for him.’

  ‘Jupiter! You live and learn.’ Acceptus shook his head, then winced and shuddered. ‘He was okay, Astrapton. He was good company, and like I said he settled his debts. That was a once-off, he just hit an unlucky streak, happens to us all. So what was his boss’s name?’

  ‘Don’t worry about it, pal.’ I was already heading for the door. ‘Thanks for your help. I’ll see myself out.’

  * * *

  So. We’d got our proof. Forget the Caelian; I needed to have another talk with Eutacticus.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Eutacticus hit the desk with his fist, hard. ‘The bastard! The scheming, two-timing, treacherous bastard!’

  Yeah, well, I couldn’t argue with that. ‘At least you know for sure now,’ I
said. ‘You got any hard evidence from this end?’

  ‘No, not yet. My people’re still working through his records, and I told you, he’s smart. It won’t be just a case of money left unaccounted for.’ He scowled. ‘So. What’s the connection with my stepson’s murder? You think there is one?’

  ‘Possibly.’ I gave him a rundown of Perilla’s theory, that Paetinius Senior had been behind the killing and Astrapton had been his son’s accomplice in exchange for the promise of a future bolt-hole.

  ‘That makes sense,’ Eutacticus said. His face was set. ‘I’ve lost out to Paetinius over two or three big deals this last few months. I thought it was just bad luck and coincidence, but if Astrapton was feeding him inside information he could’ve creamed me easy. Which he did.’ He hit the desk again. ‘Shit! We’re talking millions here, Corvinus! When I catch the bastard I’ll roast him alive! And as for Paetinius and that son of his –!’

  ‘Uh...it’s just a theory, pal,’ I said quickly. ‘We’ll need a lot more proof before we –

  But I was talking to myself. Eutacticus was on his feet and heading for the door. He opened it.

  ‘Critias!’

  ‘Hold on,’ I said. ‘What’re you doing?’

  He ignored me, just waited for the major-domo to put in an appearance. Which he did a few seconds later.

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘Tell Satrius I want to see him.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  Eutacticus closed the door and went back to the desk.

  I had a bad, bad feeling about this. ‘Uh...you want to tell me what about?’ I said. ‘You seeing Satrius, I mean.’

  He sat down again. ‘I would’ve thought that was obvious, Corvinus. I told you: nobody messes with my family and gets away with it. The Paetinii are dead meat.’

  Shit; he meant it, too. And it was the matter-of-fact tone that sent a chill down my spine. The guy might’ve been commenting on the weather or the price of grain.

  ‘Hold on,’ I said again. ‘I told you: it’s just a theory, right? No more than that. For all I know it could be complete moonshine, because I’ve no proof, none. If we can find Astrapton that might be a different matter, but for the moment we’re just guessing.’

  I got the full ten-candelabra crocodile stare. Then he nodded. ‘Okay,’ he said. ‘You’ve still got the ball. But if you get the proof then you tell me. Right away. Understood?’

  ‘Yeah. Yeah. Understood.’ Jupiter! ‘So, uh, how’s the search for Astrapton going?’

  ‘Nothing yet, but if he hasn’t left Rome then I’ll find him. Even if he has, it’ll just take a little longer. I’ve got –’ There was a knock on the door. ‘Yes. Come in.’

  Satrius. ‘You wanted to see me, boss?’

  ‘No. That’s all right. I’ve changed my mind.’

  ‘Only I was coming to see you anyhow. The boys’ve found Astrapton.’

  Eutacticus grinned. ‘Have they, indeed? Bring him in.’

  ‘Nah, he isn’t here. They just got news of him. Word is, he’s holed up in a woman’s flat in the Subura.’

  ‘Fine. Go and get him now. Be as rough as you like, but I want him alive and able to talk. Oh, and take Corvinus with you.’

  Hey, great. Purple-striper escort duty time again: busy, busy, busy. Still, at least things were moving. And I’d like the chance to have a word with Astrapton myself.

  * * *

  The flat was in one of the better tenements, which seeing it was the Subura isn’t saying much. We weren’t alone. Satrius had brought along his sidekick, the one who’d been with him when they’d grabbed me originally and who answered – monosyllabically – to the name of Desmus. It wasn’t a talkative journey, but at least we did it on foot and this time around I got through it with my shoulders unmashed.

  ‘Second floor,’ Satrius said when we arrived. ‘And, Corvinus, you’re just along for the ride, okay?’

  ‘Suits me, pal,’ I said.

  We climbed a staircase with the usual Suburan aroma of soiled nappies, stale urine and faeces. Satrius knocked on the door. No answer. He lifted the latch and pushed.

  The door opened. I was already getting a bad feeling about this. In the Subura you keep your door locked.

  ‘Wait here,’ Satrius said. He went inside. I heard him swear, then he came out again and held the door open for us.

  Astrapton was lying on the bed. His throat had been cut, and the knife was in his hand.

  ‘The boss isn’t going to be pleased,’ Desmus said.

  Yeah, well, I reckoned that was an understatement. Still, for a guy with the IQ of a green vegetable prognostication of any kind was a marvel.

  I wasn’t too happy myself.

  Satrius grunted and reached for the knife, but the corpse’s fingers were clenched round the hilt. ‘Suicide,’ he said. ‘The bastard got away.’

  ‘You think?’ I said.

  He gave me a long, slow look while he sucked on a tooth. ‘Yeah. That’s what I think, smartass,’ he said finally. ‘Any objections? It’s better than he’d get when the boss’d finished with him, and he’d know that. Desmus, search the place.’

  That wasn’t difficult: apart from a clothes chest and a couple of stools, the bed was the only piece of furniture in the room. There was a bag wedged under it that Astrapton must’ve brought with him, but like Luscius’s that we’d found in the grotto it had nothing more than a spare tunic and a change of underwear.

  ‘That’s us done,’ Satrius said. ‘We might as well go back and report.’

  ‘Hang on, pal,’ I said. ‘A couple more things. You want to frisk the body?’

  That got me another look. Then he shrugged and ran his hands expertly over the corpse. ‘Clean,’ he said.

  ‘What about the mattress?’

  ‘Fuck off!’

  ‘Just do it. Humour me.’

  ‘Okay. Desmus, take the bastard’s ankles. And if I get blood on my tunic, Corvinus, you pay the laundry bill.’

  ‘Sure. Gladly.’

  They dumped what was left of Astrapton on the floor and followed him with the mattress. Nothing underneath, just the framework of the bed. Satrius took out his own knife and slit the blood-soaked mattress all the way down one side, then shook out the straw. Nothing.

  ‘Satisfied?’ he said.

  ‘Yeah. Yeah, I’m satisfied.’

  ‘Good. Then let’s stop fucking around and get back to the Pincian.’

  ‘You go ahead. I’ll stay on here for a bit, nose around.’

  ‘You’ll come back with us, pal. There’s nothing else to see, we don’t want to be involved if the Watch get called in, and the boss is going to want to talk to you as well.’

  ‘Have it your way, friend.’ We went out, closing the door behind us. ‘What about the girl?’

  ‘What girl?’ Satrius was already heading down the stairs.

  ‘The girl who rents the flat.’

  ‘She’s out at work. Visiting her grandmother. Screwing the High Priest of Jupiter in Cattlemarket Square. How the hell should I know?’

  ‘That’s not what I meant, pal,’ I said. ‘What happens when she gets back and finds her boyfriend lying on the floor with his throat slit? How would you feel yourself?’

  He grinned. ‘I haven’t got a boyfriend, Corvinus. What do you want me to do? Clean the place up for her? Now I told you: stop fucking around. The boss’ll want to know about this asap.’

  Yeah. Right.

  One odd thing, though. In fact, it was more than odd. Astrapton’d had time enough to collect a bag with a change of clothes before he split, but on the face of things he hadn’t bothered to take any ready cash. Either his own or what he could liberate; he must’ve had control of some sort of float for necessary business expenses. That just didn’t make sense. Whatever he needed if he intended to lie low for a while, cash money in quantity would be pretty high on the list, particularly if his girlfriend wasn’t exactly well-heeled, which judging by her choice of accommodation she wasn’t. So if the guy
had committed suicide and left everything he’d brought to the flat behind him, then where was the bag with the silver? We’d got the Luscius situation again, same pattern, no difference; a missing purse meant that the thing just didn’t add up.

  Unless, of course, like the Luscius situation it was murder.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  ‘All right,’ Eutacticus said when the three of us trooped in sans missing accountant. ‘What happened? Where the fuck is he?’

  ‘He was dead when we got there, boss,’ Satrius said. ‘Killed himself.’

  Eutacticus looked at me. ‘That true, Corvinus?’

  ‘That he was dead, sure,’ I said. ‘But it wasn’t suicide.’

  Satrius shot me a glare. ‘He had the knife in his hand. What else could it’ve been?’

  Eutacticus was frowning. ‘You two. Get out. I’ll talk to you later. Corvinus, you sit down.’

  I sat. Laughing George and the conversational sprout left, closing the door behind them.

  ‘Now,’ Eutacticus said. ‘You don’t think it was suicide. Care to explain why not?’

  ‘Yeah. There was no purse with the body, and no cash in the guy’s pack. Just like your stepson.’

  ‘Maybe he didn’t have time to get any money together before he left.’

  ‘He’d time to go to his room and pick up a spare tunic and fresh underwear. Not to mention the pack itself. And he didn’t strike me as the sort of guy who wouldn’t keep a silver piece or two stashed away for emergencies. Also, what about his office? He have any cash there?’

  ‘Of course he did. That was part of his job, taking care of minor payments. There was a safe built into the desk, with a float of a couple of hundred kept in it, and apart from me he had the only key. He could’ve taken that easy.’ Eutacticus was scowling. ‘Hell! You’re right, it has to be murder.’

  ‘So who knew? Where he was, I mean?’

  ‘From my side, whoever traced him, obviously. I’ll find that out. But I’m telling you now, Corvinus; none of my lads would’ve killed him. They knew I wanted him alive. And they wouldn’t’ve put off reporting his whereabouts or spreading it around, either, so there’s no danger of a leak. When was it done, do you know?’