Trade Secrets

by David Wishart

‘Sure.’ I gave her the basic rundown. ‘The case looks open and shut, easy-peasy. The only real question is which of the outraged husbands did it.’

  ‘You believe that?’

  ‘There’re a couple of curious points. But on the whole it’s the most likely explanation, yeah.’

  ‘What sort of curious points?’

  ‘The question of why the guy went anywhere near Trigemina Gate Street only a day after both of his lady friends’ better halves had threatened to rip his head off, for a start, particularly on a public holiday when there was no need, business-wise. That was just asking for trouble. Me, I’d’ve kept well clear. Probably permanently.’

  ‘Mm.’ She was twisting a lock of hair.

  ‘Then there’s the Ostian incident. That doesn’t make sense. The guy told his wife, but not his partner. Having a load of amphoras dropped on you isn’t something that’d slip your mind. And it’s worth at least a passing mention.’

  ‘You’re sure the thing happened at all?’

  ‘How do you mean?’

  ‘It’s a theoretical possibility. Your only source for the story is Annia herself. She could have made it up.’

  ‘Why the hell should she want to do that?’

  ‘I don’t know. I said: it’s just a possibility. Or, of course, Tullius’s partner might have been lying when he said he knew nothing about it.’

  ‘That’s just as crazy. Again, why? Particularly since he gave me all the information I’d need to check it.’ I took another gulp of the wine. ‘In fact, everyone I’ve talked to so far – including the brother – has been pretty much up-front about things. They’re happy enough that I’m trying to trace the killer and willing enough to cooperate, but equally none of them’re making any secret of the fact that they think a world without Tullius is a far better place. At least, that’s the impression I’ve been getting so far.’

  ‘Never mind, dear. No doubt it’ll all work out in the end. So what about tomorrow?’

  ‘I thought I’d call in at the local Watch station, see what they can tell me. I don’t know the guy there, but he’s bound to know Lippillus, so that should help.’ Decimus Lippillus was an old friend of mine, head of the Public Pond Watch. ‘Then I’ll have a word with the two husbands, find out what their stories are. Talk to the wives as well, if they’re around. There’s another guy, too, a Titus Vibius, lives in more or less the same area, who might bear a substantial grudge. I’ll call in on him while I’m at it.’

  ‘What about the Ostia side of things?’

  ‘That can wait. Oh, sure, I’ll go down there in another day or so, check it out, probably drop by at Agron’s while I’m in the neighbourhood and split a jug of wine.’ Agron was another old friend, an Illyrian with a cart-building business.

  ‘One thing about this case, lady: we’re not short on leads. It makes a nice change.’ There was the sound of voices from the direction of the lobby. ‘Ah. That’s the kids back.’

  It was; a moment or two later, Clarus and Marilla came in with the nurse Mysta holding the well-wrapped-up Sprog. Perilla smiled at them.

  ‘Just in time for dinner,’ she said. ‘Did you have a nice day?’

  ‘Oh, yes.’ Marilla was beaming.

  There was something very wrong here; or not wrong, exactly, just distinctly odd. Clarus was looking definitely shifty, while Marilla looked like the cat who’s finally nailed the canary.

  ‘OK,’ I said. ‘So tell us about it. You know you want to.’

  ‘Take Marcus upstairs,’ Marilla said to Mysta. ‘I’ll be up in a minute.’ Mysta left, and she turned back to me. ‘We’ve got a murder for you.’

  I stared. ‘You have a what?’

  ‘Or not exactly a murder. Although it comes to the same thing, really. At the Pollio.’ She settled down on the third couch. Clarus cleared his throat and sat down next to her.

  ‘You’re kidding!’ I said. I glanced at Perilla. She was staring too.

  ‘No, it’s true enough,’ Clarus said.

  ‘I thought you’d be pleased.’ Marilla was still beaming.

  ‘Now look here, Princess—’ I began.

  ‘The man was stabbed. Only he was dead already. And when I told the Watch officer who we were he said he knew you, so—’

  Gods! ‘Look, Marilla, let’s just have this in order, OK?’ I said. Perilla had her mouth open to say something, but I held up a hand and she closed it. ‘You’re saying someone was killed – murdered – at the Pollio Library, right? While you were there. And that you were involved.’ Jupiter, I didn’t believe this! She’d only been in Rome five minutes. And the Pollio, for fuck’s sake! No one gets themselves murdered at the Pollio! ‘Take it slowly, a bit at a time.’

  ‘All right.’ She glanced at Clarus. ‘I told you. I was sitting on a bench in the Pollio gardens with Mysta and Marcus, waiting for Clarus to finish; you know that bit at the side, near the Danaid Porch, with the fountain and the benches?’

  ‘Yeah,’ I said. ‘I know it.’

  ‘Anyway, there was this man on another bench a few yards away, who was there when I arrived. I thought he was asleep, only it turned out that he wasn’t. Clarus arrived, and we were just getting ready to go when he sort of toppled over. Clarus went to check that he was all right, of course, and he was dead. He’d been stabbed in the back. Only—’

  ‘Only he was dead already,’ Clarus said.

  ‘How do you know that, pal?’ I said.

  ‘You want the clinical details, Corvinus?’

  ‘Ah … no.’ Gods! ‘No, I’ll take your word for it.’

  ‘There was hardly any blood. From the looks of things, he’d had an apoplexy. He’d been dead for at least an hour.’

  ‘So why—’ I began.

  ‘Marcus, dear …’ Perilla murmured.

  ‘Anyway,’ Marilla said, ‘Clarus went inside and told them, and they sent for the Watch. We had to stay, of course, because there’d be sure to be questions—’

  ‘Naturally you did,’ I said. Chances were, under the circumstances, you couldn’t’ve pulled the little lady away with grappling hooks and a team of oxen. Bugger!

  ‘And when the Watch officer arrived it turned out that he knew you. A Flavonius Lippillus.’

  ‘Lippillus? He’s in charge of the Public Pond district. What was he doing over on the Palatine?’

  ‘I don’t know. But you can ask him yourself when you see him. I said you might be interested, and he didn’t seem to mind. He’ll be at the Palatine Watch station on Tuscan Street, if you’d like to call in. I said you’d do that tomorrow.’

  Hell; this I didn’t need! And Perilla wasn’t looking too happy either, to put it mildly. Which was understandable: there we were being careful to keep the young lady’s nose out of one murder, and she’d gone and stuck it into another off her own bat. Got me involved, too. One case I could handle, but two at the same time was pushing things.

  ‘So all in all,’ Marilla finished, ‘yes. We had a very nice day, thank you.’

  Perilla had her mouth open again, but luckily at that moment Bathyllus shimmered in.

  ‘Dinner, sir?’ he said. ‘Meton says he’s ready whenever you are. No real hurry, though.’

  Well, that was a nice change, anyway: our touchy chef normally had dinner timed to the second, and he took it very personally if we didn’t eat to order. At least that side of our domestic arrangements seemed to be going smoothly at present, if nothing else was. Which it decidedly wasn’t.

  Fuck. Double fuck.

  ‘No, that’s OK, pal,’ I said, trying not to look at Perilla. ‘We’ll go through now. What’s on offer?’

  ‘He’s made a special effort, sir. Snails sautéed with fennel followed by roasted pigeons in a sweet onion sauce. With a custard tart and preserved fruits to follow.’

  ‘Oh, marvellous!’ Marilla said. She likes her food, does Marilla, and Meton’s always had a soft spot for her.

  My stomach growled: the plate of cheese and olives I’d had for lunch in the wines
hop had been hours ago, and there hadn’t been much of that, either. Not that, from the look on Perilla’s face, it was going to be a very comfortable family meal, despite Meton’s efforts. ‘Sounds great,’ I said, getting up quickly.

  At least the Watch officer concerned had been Decimus Lippillus; all I had to do was pay the guy a short visit, explain the situation, that I was otherwise engaged at present and was keeping well clear. He’d understand, sure he would, and if she didn’t like it then Marilla would just have to lump it. Besides, if she thought she had a vested interest – which, to be fair, she did – then keeping the lady off my back would be difficult in spades.

  Still, it was odd. And getting mixed up with two unconnected murders – or whatever you liked to call the second one – inside ten days was really pushing the boat out. Those evil-minded gods hovering around with their ears pricked were really working their socks off this time round. One way and another, the next day was going to be busy, busy, busy.

  For the present, though, I’d settle for the roasted pigeons.

  FIVE

  I was up betimes the next morning: Trigemina Gate Street is a fair way from the Caelian, on the south-west edge of the city where most of the big workshops and warehouses are so as to be handy for loading and unloading cargoes to and from Ostia, and if I wanted to fit in a visit to the Palatine Watch-house on Tuscan Street as well – which I didn’t, really, but there you go – I’d have to get my skates on. Plus there was the head of the Aventine Watch to see, re the details of the actual murder as far as he knew them.

  Like I say, busy, busy, busy.

  Added to all this, I wanted to be gone before Marilla put in an appearance, because the lady would take it as her natural right to tag along on the promised visit to Lippillus, at least. And that, considering it was going to be a thanks-but-no-thanks call, I could do without. The chances were there’d be serious ructions when she found out in any case, but at least it’d be a fait accompli.

  Besides, so far she didn’t know anything about the Tullius business. How long we could keep to that happy state of affairs I didn’t know, but the longer the better.

  So I grabbed a roll with a slice of cheese between the two halves to eat on the way and headed towards Tuscan Street.

  I was lucky: Decimus Lippillus was at his desk in the Watch Commander’s office.

  ‘Hey, Marcus!’ he said when I came in. ‘I’ve been expecting you. How’s the lad?’

  ‘OK.’ Lippillus and me went way back, almost pre-Perilla: a good twenty years, in other words. Despite that, he still looked like he had a year or so to go before his first shave and adult mantle; not just because of his height, or lack of it, either. Even so, midget and fresh-faced kid lookalike or not, Decimus Flavonius Lippillus was the best Watch Commander in the city, bar none. ‘How’s Paullina?’

  ‘Flourishing. Putting on weight, but there you go.’ Lippillus’s common-law wife and former stepmother Marcina Paullina was African, twice his size and a real honey. ‘Perilla well?’

  ‘Yeah, she’s fine.’ I pulled up a stool and sat. ‘What’re you doing here at Tuscan Street? They kick you out of Public Pond?’

  He laughed. ‘In a way. Old Titus Fannius retired last month and the City Prefect decided to move me. It’s a promotion, sure, but one I could do without. The air on the Palatine’s a bit rich for my taste.’

  ‘So. Tell me all about this murder over at the Pollio. Or stabbing, rather.’

  ‘All is stretching it, Marcus, because we know practically zilch. The dead guy was an Ostian by the name of Correllius. Marcus Correllius.’

  ‘Ostian?’

  ‘Yeah. A businessman, seemingly, according to his slave. And no, you’re right; it wasn’t murder, not according to that smart-as-paint doctor son-in-law of yours, although that wasn’t for the want of trying on the part of the guy who put the knife in. What’s his name? Clarus?’

  ‘Cornelius Clarus. Yeah. He’s the local doctor down in Castrimoenium.’

  ‘So he said. Smart cookie, that. Well, he’s saved us a bit of work, anyway, and I’m grateful for that, at least. You can have the case if you want it, the whole boiling, with my blessing.’

  Bugger; this didn’t sound good; I was glad that Marilla wasn’t here. ‘Hang on, pal,’ I said. ‘Death was from natural causes, fair enough. But if the guy was stabbed, then—’

  He was shaking his head. ‘Marcus. Watch my lips here. I hate to say this, but it’s a question of the constructive use of Watch time.’

  ‘How do you mean?’

  ‘I mean that we’ll probably have to stamp this one “Unsolved”.’

  ‘Come on! That’s ridiculous!’

  He held up his hands, palm out.

  ‘Yeah, I know, I know!’ he said. ‘I don’t like it any more than you do. OK, a crime’s involved, absolutely, no argument, and personally I’d love to take the thing up. But I’m short-staffed, I’m up to my eyeballs already. Between ourselves, old Fannius left things in a bit of a mess that it’ll take me months to sort out, and finding the guy who’s shoved a knife into someone who’s already a corpse comes pretty low on the list of priorities. Besides, I told you: the man was over from Ostia, and that’s the best part of a day’s journey each way for a start. Plus it’s technically beyond my jurisdiction, and I’d have to clear any investigation with the Ostian boys, or set up some sort of liaison arrangement. Frankly, there’re just too many complications. To tell you the truth, I was relieved when your Marilla suggested you might like to take it up.’

  Shit; I was being ganged up on here. First Marilla, now Lippillus.

  ‘Truth is, pal,’ I said, ‘I’ve got enough on my plate myself to be going on with. Guy by the name of Gaius Tullius, killed a few days ago in Trigemina Gate Street, and I’m right at the start of things. When she volunteered me, Marilla didn’t know that.’ Not that, knowing the lady as I did, it would’ve made a blind bit of difference, mind, but still …

  Lippillus frowned. ‘Damn. Well, it can’t be helped. I’ll do what I can, of course – am doing what I can, with what resources I can spare – but I can’t promise much. You want the details anyway? Just in case?’

  ‘Sure. So what’ve you got?’

  ‘Not a lot so far, and it all comes from the slave he brought with him. Like I said, the guy’s name was Marcus Correllius, and he was an Ostian businessman.’

  ‘What kind of businessman?’

  ‘Mercurius – that’s the slave – didn’t say, but he gave me a contact address. Private house, on the Hinge to the south of Ostia’s Market Square. That’s a pretty expensive area, seemingly, so chummie wasn’t short of a silver piece or two.’

  ‘The slave wasn’t in the Pollio garden at the time of the murder, presumably?’

  ‘No. Correllius had sent him away, told him to come back in a couple of hours. Which he did, just after your Marilla and her husband found the body.’

  ‘Uh-huh.’ Curious; you’d’ve thought his master would’ve wanted the bought help to be on call. ‘So what was he doing at the Pollio in the first place? Correllius, I mean?’

  ‘A business meeting. Mercurius didn’t know the details, just that the meeting was with a guy named Marcus Pullius.’

  ‘In Rome? And at the Pollio? Why the hell not in Ostia?’

  Lippillus shrugged. ‘No idea, and like I say the slave didn’t know either. But it’s not all that strange. Most Ostian businessmen have dealings with people and companies based in the city, and who did the travelling would depend on the circumstances. As far as the Pollio goes, it’s a common enough meeting place. Well-known, central, easy to find if you’re from out of town like Correllius was.’

  Yeah, true: even so, if this Pullius were local himself – which, presumably, he was, or why Rome at all? – and a businessman in his own right, then surely he’d have an office where they could’ve met and discussed things in privacy and comfort. And if Correllius was as big a wheel as his private circumstances suggested then he was no hick from the stick
s; he’d know his way round Rome well enough. So why choose a park bench to meet, for the gods’ sakes?

  ‘Who’s this Marcus Pullius, then?’ I said. ‘He come forward?’

  ‘No, we haven’t seen hide nor hair of him. And Mercurius didn’t know anything about him, either. He’d never seen the guy before, never even heard the name.’

  Odder and odder, and the whole thing was beginning to stink to high heaven. Even if, contrary to all indications, Pullius wasn’t the actual perp and had just decided for reasons of his own not to get involved, if he’d been important enough for Correllius to have travelled all the way from Ostia to see then I’d’ve expected his slave to know something about him. Unless he did and wasn’t telling, of course, and that made things more interesting still.

  ‘This Mercurius doesn’t seem to know very much,’ I said.

  ‘Yeah. I noticed that at the time. Of course I did. He seemed to be straight enough in himself, mind. And he was certainly upset.’

  ‘You trying to trace Pullius?’

  Lippillus grinned. ‘Don’t teach your grandmother to suck eggs, Corvinus! Of course I am, as far as I’m able. But no luck so far.’

  Hell; leave it. ‘Fair enough,’ I said. ‘Were there any witnesses? To the actual stabbing, I mean?’ Unlikely, sure: I knew those benches outside the Pollio, and it would’ve been easy enough for someone to step up behind an ostensibly sleeping man, do the business, and be off and away unseen in a matter of seconds. Particularly if he’d all the time in the world to wait his chance.

  ‘That’s something else we’re working on. Nothing so far, certainly no one who was currently using the library, because I asked. Naturally, I did. And remember, it could’ve happened any time up to an hour before the body was found, so any witness would probably have been long gone. That’s assuming they knew they were a witness in the crime sense, which under the circumstances they probably wouldn’t.’

  Bugger; I was getting hooked, despite myself. Even so, like Lippillus, I’d got other, more important, fish to fry at present; like it or not, I’d just have to leave things as they were and pass on.