Trade Secrets

by David Wishart

  I came abreast of the villa. It was no different, from the outside, at least, to any of the other coastal ones I’d seen so far; clearly, we’d got a different set-up here to the one I’d met with at the Correllius place, much more laid-back and normal. On the face of it, anyway.

  The gate-slave was an inoffensive old guy who looked like the slightest puff of wind would blow him away, and he was dozing on a stool in the morning sunshine with his back against the villa’s wall. I woke him up.

  ‘The master at home, pal?’ I said. ‘Publius Fundanius?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’ He got arthritically to his feet. ‘I expect he’s just finishing breakfast. You wanted to see him?’

  ‘Yeah. If it’s convenient.’

  ‘Oh, that shouldn’t be a problem. He doesn’t usually leave for town before mid-morning. If you’d like to come inside and wait in the garden for a minute or so, I’ll tell him you’re here. What name should I say?’

  ‘Corvinus. Valerius Corvinus. We met yesterday.’

  ‘That should be perfectly in order, sir. Was it business, or a private visit?’

  ‘A bit of both. I’m staying at Caesia Fulvina’s place.’ I couldn’t for the moment remember the husband’s name. ‘Just up the road. I thought I’d call in on the off-chance since I was passing.’

  ‘Oh, yes. I know the villa well, sir. And the Lady Caesia.’ He opened the gate. ‘Now, as I say, if you’d like to wait in the garden I’ll see if the master is receiving. The bench over by the hedge there should be perfectly comfortable.’

  He hobbled off up the drive, and I settled down on the bench and looked around me. Nice garden, and like the rest of the place, from what I could see of it now that I was inside the grounds, impeccably kept. The bits and bobs were impressive too – some nice statues, obviously copies of Greek originals, and not too many to clutter the place up. Whatever his questionable business interests, Fundanius had good taste, and if he had money then he knew how to spend it. I’d reckon that if he and Mamilia did have a thing going she’d be far more his type than her late husband’s. And she’d said that she’d been trying to persuade Correllius into buying a seaside property, hadn’t she? Maybe she’d get her wish. Second-hand, as it were.

  Clearly kindred spirits, in essence anyway, whatever contrary circumstances there might be. Some sort of alliance between Mamilia and Fundanius, unlikely as it seemed, was beginning to look like a viable proposition.

  The slave came back.

  ‘The master will see you, sir,’ he said. ‘He’s on the breakfast terrace. If you’d like to follow me?’

  We went round the corner of the villa’s nearside wing. That part of the garden – the east side – had a terrace sheltered by a trellised vine. Fundanius was sitting at a table with the remains of an al fresco breakfast on it.

  He stood up.

  ‘Corvinus,’ he said. ‘This is an unexpected pleasure. Have a seat. You’ve breakfasted?’

  ‘Yeah. Yes, thanks.’ I sat down on one of the Gallic wickerwork chairs. ‘I’m sorry to disturb you so early, but like I told your gate-slave I’m staying just up the road and I thought I’d just drop in in passing on my way to town.’

  ‘Oh, my dear chap! Don’t give it another thought! You’re very welcome at any time, as is any friend of Aelius Tubero’s.’ Yeah, that was the Sewers and Aqueducts husband’s name. ‘I don’t see much of him, but he’s an excellent neighbour when he and his wife do come through to Ostia. Very good company, both of them. You must give him my regards when next you see him.’ He sat down again. ‘Now. Partly business, my slave said. What would that be?’ Straight to the point, and for all the bonhomie, there was more than a smidgeon of reserve and suspicion in the guy’s voice; I’d have my work cut out here. ‘Nothing to do with Marcus Correllius’s death, I hope, because there I’m afraid I can’t be of any help to you at all.’

  ‘No.’ I crossed my legs and went into my prepared spiel. ‘Actually, we were thinking – my wife and I, that is – about renting or buying one of the villas along the coast. Nothing too grand, just somewhere to get away to now and again. I was wondering, if it’s not too much trouble, as a local man – businessman – if you might be able to point us in the right direction.’

  ‘Ah.’ He smiled, and I could almost feel him relax. ‘It is very pleasant here after Rome, isn’t it? Especially in the summer months. Not too pricey, either, compared with some places. I hear that the Alban Hills are getting really expensive, and as for Baiae and the Bay of Naples prices are simply ridiculous. And you’ve come to the right man. I don’t specialize in that area myself, but I do keep my ear to the ground. Coincidentally, there is a very nice little property just come onto the rental market not too far away. A bit further along the coast from where you’re staying, so not quite as handy for town, but that’s reflected in the price. The Rusticellius place. I know the person who’s handling it, and I can give you the details, if you like.’

  ‘That’d be marvellous,’ I said. ‘It’s just an idea so far, but we thought that while we’re in the area we’d check out the possibilities.’

  ‘Very wise. Very wise. I’ll see you get them before you leave.’ He settled back in his chair. ‘So. You’re enjoying your time in Ostia?’

  ‘Very much so. Like you say, it’s a lot more pleasant here than in Rome this time of year.’

  ‘A shame that the circumstances of your visit aren’t … well, a little more conducive to enjoyment. Or so I’d assume from our brief meeting yesterday at poor Correllius’s house.’

  Uh-huh; well, he’d brought the subject up himself. Almost certainly deliberately: now that I’d shown, as far as he was concerned, my bona fides I was about to be squeezed dry. Which was absolutely fine with me, because it gave me the latitude to do a little gentle return squeezing on my own account.

  ‘My wife was just saying the same,’ I said.

  ‘He was stabbed, I understand. After he had died a natural death, of course.’

  I’d’ve very much liked to ask the guy how exactly he’d come by that little nugget of information, because the answer would’ve been interesting, but I was playing careful here. Careful, garrulous, and dumb. Besides, I could make an educated guess.

  ‘That’s right,’ I said. ‘My adopted daughter found the body. And my son-in-law examined it. He’s the local doctor at Castrimoenium, up in the Alban Hills, and they were through on a visit. Not the sort of thing you’d expect to happen when you’re on holiday, is it?’

  ‘No, indeed. Strange business. Strange.’ Fundanius was frowning. ‘And you’re investigating? Off your own bat, I mean, not at the request of the authorities or of Correllius’s family?’ I said nothing. ‘Why would that be, now?’

  I shrugged. ‘Simple curiosity. Like I said, my daughter and son-in-law were there at the time.’

  His interest sharpened. ‘At the actual time of the stabbing? They witnessed it?’

  ‘No. But they didn’t miss it by much. At least, that’s how it appears.’

  ‘Have you any idea who the perpetrator was?’

  ‘The chances are that it was a man by the name of Pullius.’ Not a flicker, and I was watching for it. ‘Certainly he’d arranged to meet Correllius in front of the Pollio Library. And he seems to have disappeared without a trace. We have a description, of course, but—’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Oh, yes. A lady’s maid saw the whole thing, although she didn’t realize at the time there was something funny going on.’

  ‘What were the man’s reasons? Do you know?’ Casual; too casual. I could hear the note of underlying interest in his voice.

  ‘Not so far,’ I said. Then, casually in my turn: ‘Might you have any idea yourself? I mean, you knew Correllius, as a business associate at least. You may even have come across this Pullius, if the business angle was legitimate.’

  He was shaking his head. ‘No,’ he said. ‘I told you, I can’t be of any assistance whatsoever in that area, unfortunately. And although Marcus Correlliu
s and I did have some dealings together I’d call us friendly rivals rather than associates as such; I certainly wouldn’t have any inside information as to his business affairs. As for your Pullius, I’ve never heard of the man. If he is involved in business of any kind, then I can assure you he transacts none of it here in Ostia.’

  ‘That’s what I thought.’ I leaned back in my chair. ‘My theory is that he’s either from well out of town or more probably the name is false and the business meeting was just an excuse to set Correllius up. Who’d want to do a thing like that, do you imagine? Anyone spring to mind?’

  ‘No one I can think of offhand, certainly.’ His tone was bland. ‘He had his enemies, business rivals, rather, as do I and all of us, yes, of course he did. None of them would go to that extreme. But where Pullius himself is concerned surely you’ve already asked Publius Doccius if he can shed any light? After all, he is – was, now, I suppose – poor Correllius’s right-hand man. He would be the natural person to ask.’

  ‘I did. Doccius had never heard of him. Nor had Mamilia, for that matter.’ I paused, then added, casually again: ‘She was closely involved with her husband’s business, wasn’t she? At least, that was the impression I got.’

  ‘Did you, indeed? I can’t imagine how. Naturally, as I say, I have only an outsider’s knowledge of Correllius’s affairs, but I think it’s most unlikely.’ He was frowning again, and his fingers – maybe unconsciously – were tapping the table in front of him. For all the smooth exterior, the guy was perceptibly rattled. ‘Mamilia has many excellent qualities, but she is a woman, after all. I doubt that she has much of a head for business, or very much interest in it.’

  ‘Yes, well, maybe you’re right.’ I’d got what I wanted, and there was no sense in pushing things past the point of safety. Time to back off; seriously back off. ‘I was probably mistaken. My wife Perilla’s the same. Lovely lady, but a head full of fluff.’

  He laughed. ‘Best arrangement, I always think,’ he said. ‘My own was no different.’

  Uh-huh; was, eh? Interesting, in view of the Mamilia side of things. ‘I’m sorry,’ I said. ‘You’re a widower?’

  ‘Divorced, thank goodness. As of eighteen months ago. It was very civilized, and quite amicable. If you’re from Rome, you’ll readily understand that these things happen.’

  So; as far as the feasibility of the in-it-together theory went we could tick another box, couldn’t we? ‘Yes. Yes, I do,’ I said. ‘Best thing for all concerned, sometimes. I’m all in favour of a civilized parting of the ways myself.’ I paused, to take the weight off the next question. ‘So. If not property then what sort of business are you in? If you don’t mind my asking?’

  ‘This and that,’ he said. Blandly, again. ‘Like Correllius, a lot of my dealings involve the import and export trade. Which explains the friendly rivalry. And you?’

  Evidently, that was all I was going to get. Which wasn’t too unexpected.

  ‘I’ve no head for business, I’m afraid,’ I said. ‘Hardly a better one than my wife, to be honest. I’m a bit of a dilettante, really. Some property here and there, in Rome and elsewhere, that I inherited from my grandfather. The income keeps the wolf from the door, so I’m not complaining.’

  All perfectly true; he smiled slightly, and rather contemptuously. Which was absolutely fine by me. If he’d marked me down as a lightweight upper-class bubble-brain with more money than sense then I’d created the impression I wanted to create.

  ‘So,’ he said. ‘How long are you planning on staying in Ostia? On this occasion, at least.’

  ‘Oh, we’re quite open on that,’ I said. ‘Me, just as long as it takes to do everything I want to do. Or maybe, which is more likely, until I’m satisfied the investigation’s going nowhere or I get bored with it. On the other hand, Perilla’s really enjoying the break, and there’s the villa-hunting aspect of things now to think about. We’re in no particular hurry, and it’s just nice to get out of Rome for a change. Any excuse, right?’

  ‘Quite. Quite.’ He was completely relaxed now, and his tone of voice was just a polite smidgeon away from the outright contemptuous. ‘It’s always best not to let these things take too firm a grip and become obsessions. And if you’re not acting for a third party or have a genuine vested interest, then there isn’t really much point, is there? So what comes next?’

  ‘In the investigation, you mean? Actually, I haven’t really thought about that. I’ll probably just bumble around like I usually do, asking stupid questions and not listening to the answers.’

  He nodded benignly: impression of bubble-headedness confirmed. ‘Then I wish you luck,’ he said. ‘It’s a strange business, as I said, but ultimately perhaps under the circumstances it’s better to let sleeping dogs lie. After all, what does it really matter? Poor Correllius is dead, and despite the curious business of the stabbing, from natural causes. It’s none of my concern, of course, but I really do think it’d be best just to draw a line.’

  ‘Yes. His widow feels the same way. Quite understandable. Still, I’ve got to go through the motions, if only for my own satisfaction, haven’t I?’

  ‘Of course you do, my dear fellow. And it’s highly commendable. Needless to say, should you find the explanation I’d be very grateful – and interested – to know what it was. And it goes without saying that if I can help in any way—’

  ‘I’ll be sure to ask.’ I stood up. ‘Well, thanks for your patience with me. I’ve disturbed you long enough.’

  He stood up too. ‘Not at all, Valerius Corvinus, it was a pleasure. In fact, if your wife doesn’t mind a bachelor’s establishment she and you must come to dinner one evening before you leave. Oh … but I was forgetting. I promised to give you the contact details for the agent handling the Rusticellius let. If you can wait just a moment—’

  ‘No, that’s OK,’ I said. ‘Like I told you, it’s only an idea at present. We’ll take a stroll over there within the next few days and have a look at the place from the outside, see what my wife thinks. Plenty of time to contact the agent when we decide we’re interested.’

  ‘Very well. Don’t leave it too long, mind. It really is a first-class bargain, and it’s bound to be snapped up quickly.’ He held out his hand. ‘Delighted to meet you properly. Enjoy your stay, and don’t forget the dinner invitation. We’ll leave it open. Any day suits me, just send one of your slaves over to say you’re coming.’

  We shook, and I left.

  Yeah, that had gone OK, in the end. And there had been some interesting scraps of food for thought.

  I was making my way round the corner of the villa towards the gate in the wall when I happened to glance in the direction of the other wing. There was a door in the side, and as I looked it opened and a man came out. He saw me, did a double-take, and ducked back quickly inside, shutting the door behind him, but not before I’d seen who it was.

  Doccius.

  Well, well, well.

  NINETEEN

  So. Time to dot the i’s and cross the t’s before we sat down and had a really hard think about how to go about things from here, and if that meant fishing for red herrings, maybe landing one or two, then so be it. Starting with the Vinnia side of things.

  Oh, sure, the coincidence of the two dockyard accidents – Tullius’s and Vinnia’s ex-husband, Manutius’s – might just be that, a pure coincidence, especially since they were ten years apart; but the fact that the name Correllius figured in both of them lifted the thing just that necessary smidgeon clear of the bracket. If I was lucky, a talk with Manutius’s old pal Cispius, who’d worked for Correllius himself, might throw up some useful information. I needed badly to talk to someone on the inside, and that wasn’t likely to happen any other way, was it? The explanation of why Gaius Tullius had been stiffed lay here, at the Ostian end, I’d bet my last copper piece on that; the business with the Porpoise and its master’s brother Sextus Nigrinus – that bastard I knew I hadn’t seen the last of, unfortunately, but we’d cross that particular
bridge when we came to it – made it a virtual certainty. How Correllius fitted in, mind, barring that his name was on the manifest as the cargo’s owner and that he’d been crooked as a Suburan dice game, I hadn’t the faintest idea as yet; but fit in he did, sure as eggs is eggs. It was just a question, as usual, of furkling around in the dark and seeing what I could turn up.

  Cispius it was, then. Assuming, from what Rubrius had told me, that his daughter still had her fuller’s place near Guildsmen’s Square and the old guy himself was still above ground …

  I’d just have to keep my fingers crossed.

  Guildsmen’s Square, where the Ostian trade guilds’ offices are, is on the Roman Gate side of town, between the theatre and the river. There were quite a few side streets and alleyways in that part, but finding a fuller’s shop is always easy: all you have to do is follow your nose. Literally. So that’s what I did, and found the place no problem.

  It was tucked away in a cul-de-sac just past the town baths, a single large room opening out directly onto the pavement and with a couple of mantles hanging from a clothes line stretched between the buildings either side. I edged carefully round them, trying not to breathe through my nose – fullers may be used to the smell of well-matured urine, but for those whose olfactory sense hasn’t been already blunted it’s a pleasure to be rationed – and went inside.

  There were a couple of guys in loincloths knee-deep in a vat, treading the hell out of a bundle of dirty mantles, and a grey-haired man in a badly stained tunic ladling sulphur from a bag into a sulphur-burner. Obviously the boss: the first perk of seniority in the fulling trade is that you don’t spend a large slice of your working day up to the knees in diluted piss.

  ‘Good morning, sir.’ He set the cracked wine-cup he was using as a ladle down on the bench. ‘How can I help you?’