Hades, if she had notice of an interview, she would probably bring a sharp lawyer!
Acquiring official help to tackle her would be easy: Volumnius Firmus had already shown he was prepared to drag in any branch of officialdom. Incurring Pandora’s outright hostility was another matter. Next time it wouldn’t just be enforcers suggesting I should go away. Next time could be fatal.
*
Tiberius ended his culvert chat. Smiling, he gave his full attention to me as we walked on. Around us stone Niobes wept. Naiads and dryads flitted among trees or dabbled fingers in pools. We passed by a museum of curiosities where Augustus had displayed two sets of gigantic human bones; we managed to evade the custodian as he tried to lure us in. Tiberius had already given his drainage friends a big tip. His purse was empty.
We quickened our steps to escape, then once more settled into an easy stroll. There was a whole vineyard, surrounded by oaks and marble columns up which ivy twined as if clinging to stone tree trunks. Handcarts piled with weeds and cuttings trundled past us.
I shared my thoughts about my next actions. “You could ask whether any of your valued lettuce customers know how to track down Numerius.”
“Dedu may know. Do you think Numerius is the kind of sexpot who would patronize Min?”
“No, I think he’s a two-timing dabbler. Mind you, it is possible both Clodia and Anicia latched on to him of their own accord, and he doesn’t know how to dodge unwanted attention.”
“He wants his father to arrange a marriage with Anicia. That’s not trying to escape. Maybe,” suggested Tiberius, “he is the kind who persistently offers or promises a wedding as a kind of mindless challenge.”
“Are there boys like that?” I asked, with amusement.
“There are certainly boys who will use promises to get their oats.”
“Nobody ever suggested Numerius had his wicked way with Clodia. She was so young. If he seduced her, it would be quite serious.”
“So you need to meet him,” Tiberius agreed. “Assess him. It may hold all the answers.”
I was ready to make my way back to Apricot Street so I could start. Walking more briskly, I fell silent as I tried not to grow breathless. Only Tiberius, with a stronger stride and greater energy, could consider our morning adventure further. After a while he caught my elbow. Slowing almost to a halt, he uttered, “I wonder!”
“You wonder what?”
“Had a thought.”
“Your thoughts are always good value!” I was half pretending to flatter him, though I hate people who tantalize. “Get on with it!”
“The lawyer and Vincentius … Master and pupil. Something the big eagle’s beak said keeps haunting me.”
“Cough up.”
“Mamillianus said, every gangster family has two specialists, kept on retainers.”
“Bent legalist and tame money-master?”
“Right. So Vincentius is being trained to take over as the Rabirius firm’s lawyer.”
“Yes?”
“Then here’s my question: which hardbitten chiseler,” wondered Tiberius, “will Vincentius eventually replace? Who is their tame lawman at the moment?”
He was right. “Good point, aedile! The Rabirii are so long-established they must already have some shyster, some hack to write up punitive contracts, out-talk anyone with legal bluff, threaten actions against businesses that resist them, rescue any foot-soldiers who are apprehended…”
“Typical parasites,” Tiberius agreed. “Corrupting officials, misuse of form, parroting precedent, bullying…”
“Would his identity show up in trial records, if they have ever been taken to court?”
“I don’t suppose they have.” Tiberius sounded dour. “Well, we met a lawyer today. So, is it him? He spoke eloquently against the Rabirius gang, but if he works for them that could be brazen camouflage. Mamillianus has prosecuted some gangsters, though he did not mention which.”
“No love, he did. He said he was once about to charge Vincentius’ father.” I reconsidered it. “That would be legitimate work. He is clearly well regarded, not least by himself. Are you being unfair? Too cynical?”
Tiberius sounded bleak. “If he took on the Rabirii for the state, did they pay him off? Persuade him either to not prosecute them at all, or else to do the job so poorly they would be acquitted? And, Albiola, the episode with Vincentius’ father, that may be how the Rabirii first met him?”
“The point at which they corrupted him,” I agreed slowly. “So you think…”
“I think, when Mamillianus tells us he has retired, maybe what he is really giving up is his work for the Rabirii.”
“Pandora’s boy is being mentored to be his successor?”
I believed it. Of course that was all the easier because I so much disliked Mamillianus. Still, a sense of him being unscrupulous might be why I had felt that way. Instinct is a good tool.
I wondered if my father knew. Falco would not have thought it relevant when I said I was investigating a family dispute.
Probably he had no idea. He would not have put me in harm’s way. If we found out for certain what Mamillianus was, I would have a curious conversation with Falco about all this.
XXVIII
Our route back from the Gardens of Sallust took us close to the First Cohort’s barracks, so we went to see Scorpus, the vigiles investigator. Tiberius introduced himself. “Manlius Faustus, plebeian aedile. Sorry not to look the part; I am slumming incognito today. I hope you don’t have a strict dress code!”
Scorpus raised his eyebrows, but made no comment.
“My husband,” I said, which did make him puff out his cheeks in amazement.
This time I let Tiberius take the lead. Normally I do it myself, but Scorpus was visibly more comfortable with this than when I’d met him before on my own. After Mamillianus, this was a day of battling Roman masculinity. Still, I was used to it.
Consulting me where necessary, Tiberius outlined what I had found out so far. “Early days,” he concluded, “but Flavia Albia has acquired a good grasp. She has reached a point where it seems wise to clear a couple of points with you.”
Scorpus looked apprehensive. He must have experienced aediles wanting to “clear a few points” with him before. My uncle Petro routinely went off sick “with his old trouble” if a magistrate’s visitation loomed.
Of his own accord, Scorpus offered to let Tiberius see his notes: that is, the mad squiggles I had not been allowed to handle, but had read upside down. Scorpus even told his clerk to make a quick copy that Tiberius could take away. My loved one was privately signaling advice to me not to overreact; I mimicked a woman who had no intention of exploding. Well, not until later.
When the notes came, I simply reached across and grabbed them.
The original must have been scratched out by Scorpus himself at the time of his interviews. The clerk’s copy was neater, almost legible. While Tiberius kept talking, I read through and I could tell that since my previous visit someone had made alterations. Because the changes were not material, I said nothing. Either the clerk was protecting his chief or Scorpus himself had tidied up. The revised version was:
Father: Aulus Volumnius Firmus, bonus vir. aggro. No previous with I Vig.
Mother: Sentia, [Lucretia] Aggro plus.
Grandmothers: [Not interviewed]
Deceased: Clodia Volumnia, XV, unmarried, no lovers—alleged. Corpse: in bed, nightwear, no marks, no odd coloring. No vomit/diarrhea. No empty liq bottle/pills. Used water glass—no scent: colorless/tasteless drops. Agreed body could bury. [be buried]
Doc: Menenius, XII yrs in practice, nothing known contra. [Appeared reliable] Confirmed: no foul play. No preg[nancy] evident. Assumed virg[in]. No ill health history.
Undertaker: not contacted. [Officer in charge noted nothing untoward]
Allegations: v Pandora. Denial at interview. [double squiggle] As per p. [On watch list for magic, no prosecutions]
Boyfriend: Cestinus, had been dumpe
d. Denial of involvement. Evasive—normal. Not known to I Vig.
S/O No further. Family given sympathy for their concerns, assured case will be followed up with due diligence, regular reports to be sent to them.
I handed the whitewash to Tiberius. He skimmed it quickly.
While he was reading, I tackled Scorpus: “I now know that Pandora and her grandson, who was a friend of the dead girl, belong to the Rabirius crime clan. I assume they and their trade are familiar beasts here?”
“Not my baby. Next door’s. Esquiline. Second Cohort. Those idiots.”
“We’ve met them. Mind you, the Second do have their special liaison officer for gangs,” I mentioned wryly. Scorpus looked as if the Second’s specialist appointee was news. “Iuventus.”
At that, Scorpus scoffed out loud. Tiberius and I, knowing the ghastly Iuventus, shared his laughter; Scorpus looked friendlier. “Does he ever come out of his cupboard?”
“Not even for lunch. Appointing him was a masterly embellishment to Operation Bandit King,” I joked. Sometimes you have to flash insider knowledge. Uncle Petro, when he was with the Fourth Cohort, set up Operation Bandit King, a low-profile, high-impact, cross-city exercise to target organized crime. They had successes, but since organized crime continued, so did the exercise. “Scorpus, you could have mentioned the Rabirius gang, before I ended up being harassed by their enforcers—Anthos and Neo. Mean anything?”
Scorpus made a head gesture, admitting they were known. He did not apologize for leaving me in the dark. Vigiles business.
We all have our methods. I for my part kept equally quiet about how Clodia shimmied off from home to go to Fabulo’s.
Tiberius had finished reading. “We can’t yet see if criminality was involved in the young girl’s death. It is to be hoped not. But it needs to be noted.” Scorpus, an old hand at handling authority, looked as if he was diligently noting it—at least while we were in his office. As always, Tiberius remained courteous. “One thing troubles me. Pandora’s grandson, Vincentius Theo, a friend of this girl, is being taught law by a retired practitioner called Mamillianus.”
“Oh, we know Mamillianus!” Scorpus burst out with it before he could stop himself. He used the voice that in the vigiles indicates despair and disparagement.
“Do you know if he is crooked?”
“I do not, sir.”
“Do you suspect him?”
“That would be a notch too far.”
“And libel if wrong. But if I said he was corrupt, it would not surprise you?”
“No, sir.”
“Fair enough. So, before we plonk our boots in the dungheap, fill us in, please. Mamillianus prosecuted underworld figures. Some or all?”
“Some, not all.”
“The omissions being significant?”
“Who knows? Maybe he had too much work on to take all cases.” Scorpus pretended to be fair.
“Or not?”
“Or probably not.”
“So, Scorpus, he may be an unselfish jurist, tackling injustice for the community—or he could be so bent that when he goes for a walk he meets his own arse coming back?”
“That’s about it, sir.” Scorpus grinned.
Tiberius seemed to reach a decision. “All right. The Rabirii are a known item. Protection rackets, brothels, gambling … They have an ancient headman in failing health, a sister very active in the community, her grandson being trained up, an ambitious nephew and a vicious henchman also eyeing up the command structure. Now I take on board that the dead girl’s father is an arbiter. Scorpus, did you ever consider that Volumnius Firmus might have crossed paths with Mamillianus in the course of that work?”
“Never seemed likely.” Scorpus was defensive, though for once it seemed justifiable. “Volumnius Firmus is a boundary-dispute and trading-squabble man. ‘Your pig bit my wife.’ ‘You sold me rotten cloth.’ He handles ordinary stuff. He wouldn’t mess with genuine criminals, and they wouldn’t be interested in him.” He turned to me. “You have met him now, Albia. Wouldn’t you say he was an innocent?”
I nodded. “Amiable. Likeable, even. He lost his child, he doesn’t understand it, he’s making wild claims because he is desperate for things to make sense. So far, I feel I shall eventually find out that the girl died accidentally yet her family will not accept the truth. Meanwhile the Rabirii are a social scab we’ve noticed—not for the first time, as it happens—but a scab we probably don’t need to pick at.”
Like Faustus, Scorpus seemed to take a decision. “Right then. I see that you know something about internal tensions in the Rabirius gang. The hood called Gallo features, and my denarius is on him to take over, if he escapes getting knifed first. But how that plays out is not an issue at this time.”
“Other trouble?” I asked in surprise.
“Deadly dimension. When Old Rabirius passes, there is bound to be strife between Gallo and Roscius, the twittish nephew. Things will definitely erupt,” Scorpus agreed. “But for now the Rabirii look weak, so they are being targeted. There is a turf war starting up. It’s between them and remnants of a collection who were once led by a fornicator called Balbinus—” He stopped, seeing my face.
I had gone cold. “They were a waterfront gang. My uncle put Balbinus Pius away.”
Lucius Petronius had had him convicted. It failed to end there. Balbinus Pius was given time to depart, which was how I knew what that entailed. Time to depart is a flawed punishment: Balbinus came back.
For him, coming back turned out to be a flawed escape. He was tracked down. He died. Let’s say the circumstances were such that his body was not handed back to his family for burial. And I knew who killed him.
Another thing I knew was that a relative of Balbinus Pius, his son-in-law, then tried to take over Londinium in Britannia, with the usual illegal schemes such thugs love to use. I met him there. He was the hideous man from whom Helena and Falco rescued me. His name was Florius.
I said quickly, “I thought the main men in that outfit had all gone away or been wiped out? I thought the pack was dispersed, the assets taken over, and only a few unimportant foot-soldiers escaped?”
Scorpus scoffed quietly. “Big gangs never quite get deconstructed. I’ll tell you what happens: the women handle things. Same with the Rabirii. That Vincentius you mentioned—his father was kicked out of Italy years ago, but his mother stepped in. She’s a cow—Veronica. Money gets collected, cash is sent to those in exile. It enables the men to lead a comfortable life, albeit in some crap village up the bumhole of the world. Then the hard-faced wives, or daughters in some cases, bring up the next generation, teaching them it is their duty to be like their supposedly heroic, cruelly exiled fathers.”
“And Pandora?” inquired Tiberius.
“Pandora makes herbal waxes!” Scorpus retorted, full of bitterness. “We have never been able to touch her. But that vicious hag is a spider at the center of every web you can imagine. Plus some you wouldn’t want to dream about.”
“While the Balbinus Pius organization is raising its head again?” I croaked, managing to convince myself my interest was neutral.
“Never went away.”
Tiberius did know my past history. He deserved to be aware of what he was taking on before we married, so I had told him the bones of it. Now, sensitive to my distress, he moved in: “Scorpus, I see your problem, but why are you telling us? Albia and I have a very narrow focus, especially if you are convinced Volumnius Firmus never encountered criminals.”
The vigiles investigator pulled up. He phrased it carefully: “Nevertheless, it would be helpful if, during your investigation, you would avoid upsetting the proverbial fruit cart, sir.”
“Keep out? Not tread on toes?”
“Thanking you in advance!” Scorpus used the formal vigiles voice that said, if we caused any awkwardness in the matter of the gangland war, he would bring in heavyweight officialdom. He would have no choice—moreover, he was confident that they would back him.
My ori
ginally simple case was beginning to look much more complicated.
*
This was a day when every interview had its coda. As we left the office, Scorpus called out after me the way Mamillianus had done, though with less menace: “Tell your pa he has still not been seen.”
I stared.
“He is not back in Rome, not as yet. A new turf war will change things, though … Watching brief,” Scorpus said, directly to me, as if in explanation. “So tell Falco: no news on him.”
He was talking about Florius.
XXIX
It was around lunchtime, but we had bought snacks earlier from a man with a tray in the Gardens of Sallust so there was no need to eat any more. I felt sick anyway.
Not wanting to alarm Tiberius, I put on a brave face and set off at a brisk pace for Apricot Street. There we parted, me to start tracking down Numerius Cestinus, him to perform light duties at the lettuce booth.
Dorotheus was still in the courtyard, now pretending to tend tubs of flowers. I hailed him. This cheered him up, since he did not have to find a fake excuse but could approach me and ask what I had been doing. I ignored the question, instead asking for an address for the Cestius family. Dorotheus offered to take me. I made him give me directions.
They lived in the kind of shabby block that discreetly hides how large it is. Once you know, this kind of place immediately announces money. They had an ugly door knocker, some Muse or goddess with a peculiar patina. The handle hung from her ears where her earrings should have been, while above it she looked bilious. I sympathized.
A pockmarked slave appeared to say the elders were in, but Numerius was out with his friends. Unable to face the woolly mama and her surly spouse, I wrote a crisp note instructing the youth to come to Apricot Street for interview, then left.
The slave was so unaccustomed to people giving him a tip, he suggested a caupona where the lads might be at lunch.
*
My informant was correct. There were two young men leaning on the bar. One I recognized as Cluvius, who thought he ran the group. The other was a stranger, so he could be Numerius. I walked up quietly. I stood to one side of Cluvius, who never looked round. They were posed to look good, yet ignored the barman and seemed oblivious to anybody else. In front of them stood empty saucers and wine cups, though anything they had ordered must have been a while ago. They were rapt in a lengthy conversation; it was no surprise that this was all about themselves.
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