Family Commitments (Marcus Corvinus Book 20)

by David Wishart

  The flat was empty. All that was there, resting on the table, was the illicitly-purloined ham-bone, picked clean.

  Fuck.

  8.

  Bathyllus was waiting at the door for me, as usual.

  ‘Okay,’ I said, handing him my cloak. ‘Where is he?’

  The little guy looked blank. ‘I’m sorry, sir?’

  ‘Where the bloody hell is your brother?’

  ‘Ah...at the tenement, sir. You saw him yourself this morning.’

  ‘The first time I called round, yeah.’ I picked up the full cup of wine from the tray he’d set down on the hall table and drank half of it in a oner. ‘The second time, which was about an hour ago, he’d gone, and the flat was empty.’

  ‘What?’

  I didn’t answer, just took the cup and accompanying wine jug through to the living room, Bathyllus trailing me like a lost sheep.

  ‘He probably just decided he needed a breath of fresh air, sir,’ he said. Bleated. ‘It’s very hard for him, being cooped up there all day. I really wouldn’t be too–’

  ‘Look, sunshine,’ I said. ‘The bugger has gone. Gone as in disappeared, decamped, done a split, scarpered, headed for the tall timber, any fucking synonym you like. The flat’s empty; he didn’t leave so much as an old sock. And the really embarrassing thing was, I’d brought company. Two of Sempronius Eutacticus’s lads. You remember Eutacticus?’ Bathyllus blenched; clearly, he did. ‘They were not happy bunnies, and when they get back to their boss and tell him the glad news, which they’ll no doubt already have done, that evil-minded bastard will be spitting nails.’

  ‘Er...where exactly does Eutacticus come into this, sir?’

  ‘Long story.’ I sank the other half of the wine and refilled the cup. ‘Just take it from me that he has a vested interest in finding your brother, and if he manages it before I do you, pal, are going to be short one sibling. So where has he gone? Do you have any idea at all?’

  ‘Of course I don’t!’

  ‘Fair enough. Well, at least he can’t stay holed up for long, not without ready cash, and he can’t have much of–’ I stopped; Bathyllus had gone even paler. ‘Come on, little guy! You’re not going to tell me you were stupid enough to give him that money I gave you for the rent and so on.’

  ‘Ah...’

  Gods. Sweet, bloody, immortal gods. Relatively speaking, it hadn’t been a lot, true, but in the sort of places he’d be frequenting it’d be enough to tide him over for quite some time. And I’d bet that where urban survival skills went Damon would be up there with the best of them. So what the hell did I do now?

  ‘Is the mistress in?’ I said.

  ‘Upstairs in her study, sir. Oh, before I forget. A message came for you via Commander Lippillus from a Lucius Pudentius of the Aventine Watch.’ He took a sealed flimsy from his belt and handed it over. ‘The messenger said there was no reply.’

  I took the flimsy, broke the seal, and read.

  Shit.

  ‘Is it to do with Damon, sir?’ Bathyllus said anxiously.

  ‘Ah...no, little guy. No, it isn’t. Or not directly.’

  I picked up the full cup and took it upstairs to the lady’s study. This needed talking over.

  Perilla was sitting at her desk doing something complicated involving several open book-rolls and a note tablet.

  ‘Hello, dear,’ she said when I came in. ‘You’re back early. What did those two men want? Bathyllus said you’d gone off with them, and that you didn’t seem too happy.’

  ‘Yeah.’ I set the wine cup and jug down on the table and stretched out on the reading-couch. I felt drained; drained and sick ‘They were Sempronius Eutacticus’s boys.’

  She put the pen down and stared at me with wide-open eyes.

  ‘Oh, Marcus!’ she said.

  ‘Right. Turns out that Bathyllus’s brother and his late master took something belonging to him, and he wants it back.’ I told her the whole story, including Damon’s little foray into the realm of romantic fiction. ‘Problem is,’ I finished, ‘Damon must’ve realised things were about to get too hot for comfort and done another runner; not that that’ll help him, because when Eutacticus tracks him down – which he will – however things pan out, at the end of the day he’ll peg the bugger out for the crows.’ I hesitated; this was where things got sticky. ‘Only that’s not the worst of it. I’ve just had a message from the Aventine Watch commander. Seemingly, the banker Oplonius used has come forward and the guy’s total deposited sum was two hundred and eighty-three sesterces. That’s all there was; no valuables, no sealed packages left for safe keeping. Nothing. Zilch.’

  ‘So?’

  ‘Perilla, Damon said Oplonius had sold the necklace, right? Even if he’d only got a quarter of what it was worth we’re talking well into six figures. And if he hadn’t sold it, and didn’t keep it by him, the probability was he’d left it for safety as an anonymous package in the banker’s strongbox. Now we know for sure that he didn’t do that either; which means that it’s still out there somewhere, and the chances are that, unless his killers took it, Damon either knows the location or he has it himself.’

  ‘Marcus, I’m afraid I don’t quite see what’s worrying you here. If Damon can produce the necklace after all, then surely that’s good, isn’t it? You say you have an agreement with Eutacticus that he’ll let bygones be bygones if it’s returned.’ I had my mouth open to speak. ‘Yes, I know the situation’s changed slightly, but Eutacticus isn’t an unreasonable man and–’

  ‘Jupiter, Perilla! Listen to yourself!’

  ‘Yes, well, not completely unreasonable. And as you say he does owe you two considerable favours. I’m sure you can talk him round.’

  ‘Maybe I can,’ I said. ‘I’ll definitely try; I’ll go up to the Pincian first thing tomorrow and give it a go. But whether or not Damon has the necklace isn’t the point any more. Or not the whole point.’

  ‘So what is?’

  Okay, so here we went. I took a fortifying swig from the wine cup. This wasn’t going to be pleasant.

  ‘Leaving the inconsistencies aside,’ I said, ‘when we thought what turned out to be Eutacticus’s men were the killers things were pretty straightforward, right? They were still after whatever they’d been looking for – we know now it was the necklace – and the likelihood was that Damon was the key to finding it.’

  ‘Yes. So?’

  ‘Lady, think! Because they weren’t the killers after all, they were irrelevant. Are irrelevant. Take them out of the picture and all we have left is the murder itself and Damon’s own version of it; that he came up and found the killers gone and his master lying dead on the floor. Oh, sure, he changed his story to fit what I found out from Pudentius and spun me a new tale involving the necklace, but at root it was the same one: he wasn’t there when the murder happened.’

  ‘Marcus, dear–’

  ‘Only now it turns out that, despite Damon’s claim to the contrary, Oplonius didn’t sell the necklace after all; he couldn’t have done, or he’d’ve had the money from the sale. And if he didn’t deposit the thing with the banker, which again now we know for a fact, then presumably he kept it with him and hid it somewhere in the flat. Somewhere pretty damned effective, because his killers searched the place from top to bottom and still didn’t find it. Which is odd, right?’

  ‘Odd, certainly. But not impossible.’

  ‘Granted. Except that it assumes three things: that Oplonius had the guts to hold out to the end under intensive questioning, that his killers were seriously lacking in imagination, and most of all – because they must’ve known about Damon – that they were pretty damn stupid not to wait around until he got back from wherever he’d gone and grill him like they’d grilled his boss. Oh, sure, like you say, none of that’s impossible. But the more oddities there are as a possible scenario the less likely it gets. And now, when we start getting contrary information from elsewhere and his story begins seriously to come apart at the edges, Damon suddenly decide
s to cut and run. All that suggest anything?’

  She was looking at me in horror. ‘Oh, Marcus, no!’

  ‘Right. That there weren’t any murderers as such at all; Damon killed Oplonius for the necklace himself. It’s the simplest explanation, it fits the known facts, and it clears up all the oddities problems at a stroke. If we hadn’t been blinkered by the fact that he was Bathyllus’s brother we’d’ve thought of that straight off, at least as a viable possibility. As it was, untrustworthy bugger though he quickly turned out to be, we gave him the benefit of the doubt.’

  Perilla was quiet for a long time. Then she said: ‘How are we going to tell Bathyllus?’

  I shook my head. ‘I don’t know. That’s what’s worrying me, too. Oh, sure, he’s under no illusions about Damon’s character, so that part’ll come as no surprise. But after all they are brothers. And whether Eutacticus takes a hand in things or not, as a thief, murderer and runaway slave the guy is for the chop three times over. There’s absolutely nothing we can do about that.’

  ‘I suppose not.’ Perilla was twisting a lock of her hair, always a sign that there was something cerebral going on underneath it. ‘Marcus, don’t you find it strange that Damon mentioned the necklace at all? I mean, as a necklace. He didn’t have to. Oh, yes, I know, after you faced him with the business of the search he’d obviously have to admit that Oplonius was hiding something of value. But why what it really was? In fact, why not a large sum of money? Surely that would’ve been just as plausible.’

  ‘Yeah, I’ve thought about that.’ I frowned. ‘Eutacticus made the same point, more or less. Thing is, right from the start Damon’s kept as near to the truth as possible. Which is probably why the bastard is such a good liar, because the fake story isn’t cut from whole cloth. Sure, his master died from a stab wound, but that’s all he says initially, because to have mentioned the beating and the search would’ve led to unwelcome questions. Then, when I get that part of it from Pudentius and add the business of the watchers on my own account, he changes the story to fit – but again, just far enough. I mean, given you’ve got a wealthy young girl involved then why not a valuable piece of female jewellery? And if that, why not a necklace? It’s all logical, so it works, it’s convincing. And he wasn’t to know I had any connection at all with Eutacticus, was he? So the chances of the necklace per se becoming significant were pretty slim.’

  ‘What will he do now, do you think?’

  I shook my head. ‘Jupiter knows. He’s up the creek without a paddle. Without even a boat. For a start, he can’t sell the necklace: it’s a two-hundred-year-old antique, it was made for royalty so it’ll be Valuable with a capital V, and I’d bet there isn’t a fence in Rome, let alone a reputable jeweller, who’d touch it with a long stick and gloves. Particularly with him as the seller. Oplonius was a hick provincial, or that’s the impression I get, but at least he was free-born middle class. Damon’s a slave, obviously a slave, brand, nicked ear, the lot, and he hasn’t got a hope in hell. Any legit dealer he approached would hand him over to the authorities straight off without even stopping to think, and if he tried to fence the thing on the black market chances are with his contacts Eutacticus would know within the hour and Damon would be dead in two.’

  ‘He could leave Rome. Try somewhere else.’

  ‘Uh-uh. Same applies. And in a smaller place he’d just stick out all the more. Plus the fact – a slave on his own? Without manumission papers? How long do you think he’d last before some honest citizen turned him in?’

  ‘Mm.’ She was still twisting the lock of hair. ‘So what can we do for him? For Bathyllus’s sake?’

  I shrugged. ‘Not a lot,’ I said. ‘I told you, I’ll go and have another talk with Eutacticus tomorrow.’ Gods! Now that was something I definitely wasn’t looking forward to! ‘He’ll have put the word out that Damon’s to be found and brought back, naturally, that goes without saying, and the bugger’s got as much hope of staying lost as whistling Pindar’s Second Pythian through his ears. So it’s what happens when Eutactus does get his hands on him that’s important. My hope is that things won’t reach that stage; that once he’s sat down and had a good think he’ll realise his safest course of action is to get back in touch with Bathyllus.’

  ‘Even though we know – and Bathyllus will know – that he’s very probably a murderer?’

  ‘Come on, Perilla! He’s a con-man to his fingertips. A professional. Even if he’s guessed that he’s under suspicion now I’ll bet he firmly believes he can talk his way out of it.’

  ‘What about the necklace?’

  ‘That’s non-negotiable, absolutely; unless he’s a complete fool, which he isn’t, he’ll know that now. If he’s got it, as I hope he has – and I agree with Eutacticus, to my mind, that’s practically a cert – then it’ll have to go back straight off, no deals, no faffing around. And if he comes out the other end alive and with everything attached he can count himself bloody lucky.’

  ‘But if he hasn’t? Got it, I mean, or know where it is.’

  ‘Then I’m afraid he’s toast; Eutacticus will see to that. Unfortunate, but sadly true.’ I stood up. ‘Well, there’s no point in putting things off, is there? We may as well get it over with.’

  Perilla looked worried. ‘You’re going to tell Bathyllus now?’

  ‘He has to know sooner or later, and this time he’s involved in the case. Keeping him in the dark wouldn’t be fair.’ I opened the door, went outside, leaned over the banister and yelled: ‘Bathyllus!’

  He’d been waiting at the stair’s foot, and from the way he sidled into the room, eyes averted, it was pretty clear he’d a fair suspicion at least why I’d called him up.

  Fuck; I hated this.

  ‘Yes, sir,’ he said.

  I lay back down on the reading couch and took a deep breath. Here we went.

  ‘Ah...the mistress and I have been talking things over, little guy,’ I said. ‘Apropos developments. Regarding, uh, your brother’s disappearance and so on. Now don’t take this the wrong way, because I’m sure there’s another explanation for it that’s completely innocent, but all the same under the circumstances you have to realise there is the outside possibility that –’

  ‘Damon isn’t a murderer, sir.’

  Oh, shit.

  ‘I’m sorry, Bathyllus,’ Perilla said gently, ‘but you can’t know that for certain, now, can you? After all, you’ve only known him for–’

  ‘That doesn’t matter, madam. He may be a thief, he’s certainly dishonest, untrustworthy and a persistent liar, but he is not capable of murder. Whatever the indications to the contrary are, I’m convinced of that.’

  ‘Look, pal,’ I said. ‘You have to face the facts here, as far as we know them. Thief he certainly is; we know from Eutacticus that he and his master stole a valuable necklace which has now gone missing. Oplonius didn’t sell it and according to that note you gave me from the Aventine Watch commander he didn’t leave it with his banker for safe keeping either, which means it was still in his possession when he was killed. Agreed?’

  ‘Yes, sir, if you say so. But–’

  ‘Okay. Now it turns out that our only suspects for the murder – the two guys staking out the tenement – weren’t responsible after all. They couldn’t’ve been, because they were Eutacticus’s men, and he only found out where Oplonius was staying after the event. So I’m afraid that leaves Damon himself. Or at least he’s the most likely possibility.’

  ‘Not necessarily, sir,’ Bathyllus said stubbornly. ‘The actual killer could have been someone else entirely, someone you don’t know of yet.’

  Gods! This was difficult!

  ‘Look, Bathyllus.’ I kept my voice level. ‘I only said Damon was the most likely possibility, which he is at present. I can’t be sure he killed Oplonius, of course I can’t. For all I know we’ve a long way to go yet. All I can do is work from what facts I have, and if other facts emerge that point in a different direction then well and good, we take it from ther
e. If you want to help your brother then the best thing you can do is to play it my way. Okay?’ No answer, but he gave a brief nod. ‘Fine. Now.’ I took another deep breath: crisis over, or at least in abeyance. ‘You sure you’re up to this, or would you prefer to go downstairs again? No worries, whichever.’

  ‘No, that’s all right, sir. I’ll stay here.’

  ‘Fair enough. Well done, pal.’ I cleared my throat. ‘Okay. Case against. First and most important, motive, means and opportunity. Damon had all of them in spades. He knew the necklace existed and that Oplonius had it, they were sharing a room and there was no reason, as far as we know, for his master to think he was in any danger. Plus the fact – I’m sorry, Bathyllus – the guy was an out-and-out crook to begin with. Second, the simple fact that he’s done a runner. Third–’ I stopped, and frowned. ‘There isn’t a third, is there?’

  ‘No, dear, there isn’t,’ Perilla said. ‘And to tell you the truth, I’m not totally convinced that your second point is particularly valid, either.’

  ‘Yeah? And why would that be, now?’

  ‘You said yourself: when you last talked to him Damon wasn’t to know you had any connection at all with Eutacticus, and you didn’t have your’ – she paused – ‘your interview with the man until later. So there really was no reason for him to abscond, was there? Not a specific reason, anyway.’

  ‘It didn’t have to be specific. We covered that: he’d know that the story he was spinning us was coming apart at the seams. He couldn’t take the risk.’

  ‘Hmm.’ She frowned. ‘Very well. It’s possible, Marcus. But the comment still stands.’

  ‘Actually, madam,’ Bathyllus said, ‘I think the master is probably correct.’

  Uh-oh. Things went very quiet, and I glanced sideways at the lady. Me, after all those years of marriage, I can generally risk a head-on contradiction like that and get away with no more than superficial sarcasm burns, but this was Bathyllus: the little guy was courting certain death here. However, to give Perilla her due not an eyelid did she bat.