‘You think he could have been the original killer? Tullius’s, I mean?’
‘He fits the maid’s description as well as Doccius does. And we don’t know the full circumstances of what happened that day at the quay, when Tullius was almost beaned by the falling amphoras.’
‘Marcus, you do realize that, as things stand, none of this makes any kind of sense, don’t you?’
‘How so?’
‘First of all, you can’t have it both ways: either the accident on the quayside was a deliberate attempt to kill Tullius or it was just that, an accident. If it was the former, then there must have been a prior reason. Can you think of one?’
I shook my head. ‘Uh-uh. Not offhand, certainly. But then I don’t have to.’
She looked at me in surprise. ‘Why not?’
‘Because I think it was just an accident, pure and simple. Oh, sure, if it’d been someone at the Rome end of things who killed him – his partner Poetelius, or his wife, or her brother, individually or in any combination you like – then the earlier shot would square: any of the three of them could’ve known he’d be on that particular quayside that particular morning, and they’d’ve had plenty of time to set the thing up, no problem. If – and it’s a major point, because it’s a big “if” – they could find a suitably venal crane operator. Which I’ll grant you they might’ve done, because Agron hasn’t traced our elusive Siddius yet. Only it looks like the reason Tullius died is connected with whatever scam the two Nigrini and Correllius were involved in, and we’re looking for a killer at the Ostian end. Tullius had no interest in the Porpoise at the time; it just happened to be berthed at the same quay as the boat he’d arranged his own shipment for. Pure fluke. My bet is that, as a result of the accident, Tullius suspected that something screwy was going on and decided there was money to be made.’
‘Blackmail, you mean?’ Perilla was twisting a lock of her hair.
‘Yeah. Or something like it. Again, the details aren’t important, but I think that’s a fair assumption. Remember what Annia said: when he told her about the accident and she responded that he might’ve been killed, Tullius laughed the thing off and said he’d just been lucky. Strange thing to say, right? Particularly the way she told it. The guy sounded actually pleased about what had happened.’
‘Hmm. Yes.’ She was looking thoughtful. ‘Yes, it is strange, at that.’
‘OK. So the theory is that after the accident Tullius made enquiries and put the bite on. Or he may even have put the bite on there and then, if Nigrinus Senior was on board. Whichever it was, it got him stiffed, PDQ; Agron’s right, these are not boys to fool around with.’
‘The actual killer being Nigrinus?’
‘Yeah; my money would be on him rather than Doccius, if only because he’s already shown form. And if so then Nigrinus would’ve been a natural for the phantom Pullius too, always assuming Correllius himself had never met the guy. Which is a distinct possibility if he’d run to type and left the piddling day-to-day admin details such as contracting hitmen to his subordinate.’ I took a smug mouthful of the wine. ‘So. What other aspect of the case are you having problems with, lady?’
‘Mmm?’
‘You said, “First of all”. When you told me none of it makes sense.’
‘Oh, yes. Correllius’s stabbing itself. I’m sorry, dear, but that doesn’t seem to fit in in any way whatsoever. Not with the Porpoise business, certainly, because if Correllius was part of the scam, as he would have to be, then why on earth should Nigrinus kill him? Or Doccius, or any of them?’
I frowned; yeah, she was absolutely right, and to be fair I’d been dodging the issue myself. If the guy’s death – or at least planned death – was connected with the trade scam, and so with Tullius’s, then I couldn’t for the life of me see why or how.
‘Maybe it isn’t connected,’ I said. ‘Not with the Tullius side of things, anyway. It could just’ve been a coincidence of timing.’ Then, when she opened her mouth to say something: ‘Oh, sure, my money’s still on Nigrinus as being the hitman, because it keeps things nice and tidy, but I reckon we have a parallel plot here. For whatever reason – sexual attraction or good business practice – the guy’s wife and his rival Fundanius decided that the guy had outlived his usefulness, and like I say these people play rough. The original plan is to set him up – probably through Doccius – with a phoney business meeting where Nigrinus can take him out; minimum risk, because the thing’s done well away from Ostia and the phantom Pullius can disappear into the long grass, while everyone concerned can hold up their hands and deny all knowledge. Only then things go wrong: the killing turns out not to have been necessary after all, but the result is that shortly afterwards a nosey Roman shows up at the door and insists on an investigation. Complicated by the fact that there is an eyewitness who can give a description, and that the nosey Roman in question is also the guy shoving his nose into the other killing their hitman’s recently been involved in. Hence Nigrinus’s orders to take me out. That make better sense to you?’
‘Yes, actually, it does. Complete sense.’
‘No comeback?’
‘No. None whatsoever.’
Glory and trumpets! Well, there was always a first time. I grinned and finished my wine.
‘So. What’s the next step?’ she said.
‘Perilla, I don’t know,’ I said. ‘If the theory holds good then like it or not the case is stitched up as far as I can take it. Nigrinus is dead, so if he was the actual perp in both instances then he’s out of things. The same goes for Correllius, if he was the one who gave the original order to kill Tullius. Mamilia and Doccius could well have been involved, sure, they probably were, particularly him, but how I’d go about proving that I’ve no idea.’
‘There’s still the other Nigrinus brother. Titus, was it? The captain of the Porpoise.’
I blinked. Hey! Right! I’d mentally factored him out of things, because he wasn’t in Ostia to talk to, and if anyone still above ground knew the ins and outs of the Tullius business, then Titus Nigrinus was the lad. The Porpoise had been headed for Aleria in Corsica, or so the clerk in the shipping office had told me. No great distance, in other words. It could’ve been a blind, of course, on the captain’s part – like I say, I didn’t have any details, yet, of what the trading scam involved, so he could’ve given a false destination – or Corsica might only have been an intermediate stop; but if not, and it was a round trip, then he might well be back in Ostia by now. I doubted he’d be very cooperative, quite the reverse, particularly after his brother’s death, but beggars can’t be choosers, and he was the only game left in town. Maybe I could lean on him a little.
Clearly, another chat with the harbour-office clerk was in order.
I stood up and kissed the lady full on the lips.
‘Perilla, you’re a genius!’ I said. ‘I’ll find out tomorrow if he’s around yet. Meanwhile, you fancy a walk?’
‘Where to?’
‘Just a bit down the coast road. Fundanius mentioned a villa that was up for rent. I thought we might take a look at it.’
‘Marcus, what is going on?’ she said suspiciously. ‘Does this have anything to do with the case? Because if so—’
‘Uh-uh. Cross my heart, absolutely nothing whatsoever. I just thought you might be interested, that’s all. Plus it’s a nice day, there’s still plenty of it left, and you could do with the exercise.’
She laughed, and stood up. ‘Very well. But what brought this on?’
‘It just seemed a good idea, that’s all. And it’d be nice to have somewhere of our own to go when Rome gets too hot.’
‘It’s an excellent idea. Marcus Corvinus, you’re getting old and staid.’
‘Bugger that.’
‘True.’
We went to see the villa.
TWENTY
I set out for the port the next day.
If it came to twisting arms, I was in a better position with Nigrinus Senior than I would’ve been
with Mamilia, or even Doccius: Tullius’s death had definitely been murder, it was being officially investigated by the Watch in Rome, and I could make a reasonable prima facie case to link it with the Nigrini brothers. Besides, there was the almost certainty of the trading scam, whatever form it took; that, I could use the threat of as well if a little extra muscle was needed. I just hoped that I’d have the opportunity.
The walk from the Laurentian Gate took me up the Hinge and through Market Square, passing Vinnia’s wineshop on the way. I’d got pretty much all I needed to know in that direction from old Cispius, sure, and it’d been a red herring in the end, at that, but the wine had been good – like I said, you didn’t see Veian all that often – and a quick stopover while I was in the neighbourhood wouldn’t do any harm.
I opened the door and went in. No Vinnia this time, just a big guy his late forties with short-cropped hair greying at the temples, sweeping the floor with a broom.
He leaned the broom against the wall and went behind the counter.
‘Yes, sir, what can I get you?’ he said. His eyes flicked to the stripe on my tunic, and I saw them narrow.
Uh-huh. Interesting; very interesting. And I could see the family resemblance; he and his sister were alike as two peas. If she’d been built like a carthorse and had muscles like ship’s hawsers.
‘A cup of your Veian would be fine, pal,’ I said easily, going over to the counter and taking a few coins from my belt-pouch.
He reached for a cup, hefted the wine flask, and poured in silence. I laid the coins down.
‘No Vinnia today?’ I said.
‘No.’ Nothing else, just that; chattiness clearly ran in the family. His eyes were still fixed on the purple stripe.
I picked up the cup and sipped.
‘You’ll be her brother, right?’ I said.
‘Gaius Vinnius. Yeah.’ He turned round and replaced the flask in its rack. Obviously I was being left to make the running here.
‘I heard you were in Germany,’ I said. ‘Serving with the Second Augusta.’
‘That’s right.’ He turned back. This time the eyes looked straight at me, challenging. ‘I was. Centurion in the Third Cohort. Got my discharge a couple of months ago.’
‘Back here for good?’
‘No. I’ve a family over there, in Belgica; Augusta Rauricorum. Wife and two kids, German girl; we got married properly after I was discharged. I’m just back on a visit.’
‘A long way to come just for a visit, isn’t it?’ I took another sip of my wine.
He shrugged. ‘I haven’t seen my sister for over twenty years. This was the only chance I’d get. Besides, I’m taking her back out with me when I go. We’ve got the room, and there’s nothing to keep her here.’
‘True,’ I said. I was still holding the cup. ‘Particularly when the guy responsible for killing her husband is dead.’
Our eyes locked, and for a moment I thought he’d go for me. I’d kept my voice neutral, and my other hand was resting in full sight on the counter top. Then he dropped his gaze, shrugged again, reached for a cloth, and began drying the already-dry wine-cups.
‘Vinnia told me there’d been a purple-striper from Rome in asking questions,’ he said.
‘Yeah, that’s me. So. You were the one who stabbed him, right?’
‘I’ve no regrets. The bastard deserved to die. Manutius wasn’t much, but he was Vinnia’s husband and my brother-in-law. It was a matter of honour, someone in the family had to do it, and there was only me. Once I was free of the legion I had my chance. I’d’ve had that bastard Doccius as well if he’d given me the opportunity, but I’ll settle for the man who gave the order.’
‘You know Correllius was dead before you stuck the knife in?’
The dishcloth paused, and his eyes came up.
‘What?’
‘Sure. Dead as mutton. Natural causes, my son-in-law said, and he’s a doctor, so he should know.’
‘No,’ he said slowly. ‘No, I didn’t know that.’
He was telling the truth, that was plain enough. No one was that good an actor, particularly an ex-legionary centurion.
I took another mouthful of wine and set the cup down. ‘So,’ I said. ‘If you think you’re a murderer you can think again.’
‘Gods!’ He reached behind him, picked up a wine flask at random, poured some into an empty cup, and downed it in a oner. ‘Gods!’
‘You want to tell me exactly what happened?’ I said gently. ‘Purely for the record.’
He refilled the cup and replaced the flask.
‘How much do you know?’ he said.
‘That you pretended to be a businessman by the name of Marcus Pullius. That you arranged to meet Correllius outside the Pollio Library in Rome. And that you stuck a knife into him while he was sitting on one of the benches then disappeared off the map. That’s about the sum of it.’
‘I thought he was asleep.’
‘Uh-uh. I said: he was dead as a doornail. So what’s the full story? From the beginning.’
‘From the beginning?’ He took another swallow of wine. ‘Like I say, killing Correllius was the point of the visit, the first chance I’d had to out the bastard since Manutius died ten years back, and I wasn’t going to bungle it. I’d written to Vinnia telling her I was coming, sure, but no one else knew, and I’d told her to keep her mouth shut. She wasn’t even to mention I’d left the legion.’ He drained his cup, then refilled it from the flask of Veian and topped mine up at the same time. ‘We didn’t meet, either. All the arrangements’d already been made by letter, and although I’d never been to Ostia in my life – never been outside Gaul and Germany, for that matter – we thought it’d be safer. Besides, we look pretty much alike, her and me. Enough to be taken for brother and sister, anyway.’
‘Yeah,’ I said. ‘Yeah, you are. I spotted that straight off.’
He grunted. ‘So. I kept well clear of this place, took a room in town under the name of Marcus Pullius, and had a message delivered to Correllius. To Correllius, personally; that was important. I’d a good mate in the legion, came up the ranks with me; he’s in line for First Spear now. He was originally from Massilia, tough background, grew up round the docks. He knew the set-up there where the shady side of things was concerned, and he clued me in, gave me a few names to drop. People and places. I was betting Correllius’d never been to Massilia himself, but I wasn’t taking any chances. I did my homework before I came.’ His lips twisted. ‘Well enough to pass on short acquaintance, anyway.’
‘Doccius didn’t know anything about this? Or Mamilia?’
He frowned. ‘Who’s Mamilia?’
‘Correllius’s wife.’
‘Nah, not a thing. I told you, I sent the message to the bastard personally. I needed to keep things simple, and the fewer people on his side who knew the better.’
‘So.’ I sipped my wine. ‘What was the message?’
‘I told him I represented one of the local Massilian organizations in the same line of business as he was. Not the legit side of things, naturally. Gave him a name that I knew he’d recognize; it was real enough, thanks to my pal, and the guy it belonged to had serious clout. The idea was, I said, that the two of them would set up a working partnership, the Ostian side and the Massilian. One hand washes the other, you know what I mean?’
‘Yeah,’ I said.
‘Only I said it was strictly hush-hush at present. My boss didn’t want anyone else knowing about it until it was a done deal. So it would just be me as the rep and him, settled on a handshake, details to follow after I’d reported back. That was the reason for choosing Rome for the meeting, as well. Neutral ground, anonymous as we could make it.’
‘Why the Pollio?’
He shrugged. ‘Vinnia’d suggested it in her last letter. Me, I didn’t know Rome from Sardis, but she said she’d overheard a couple of customers talking about it as a good place to meet in the middle of the city. Not that I ever intended to kill the bastard there, it was too pub
lic: I travelled up from Ostia a couple of days beforehand and found a room to rent in a tenement building not far away, near the Circus. The plan was that once we’d made contact I’d take him there for the confab and do the job at my leisure.’
Yeah, I could see all this working. And Correllius would’ve jumped at it; the guy had been running his own organization for years, and I would guess that, suspecting he was being edged out, he’d grabbed the chance of putting one over on Doccius, and probably Mamilia, by cutting a prime deal off his own bat. This Gaius Vinnius was no fool. Mind you, if he’d got to be a centurion in a crack legion then he wouldn’t be.
‘So,’ I said. ‘When you turned up for the meeting you found him asleep on the bench.’
‘That’s right. It made things a lot simpler. There was no one around, no reason to wake him, so I just stepped behind him and let him have it in the back there and then.’ He frowned again. ‘Which was when the girl came round the corner and spotted me. You talk to her?’
‘Yeah. She didn’t think anything of it at the time.’
‘Well, I wasn’t hanging around to find out, that was for sure.’ His lips formed a wry smile. ‘I’d done what I came for and I got the hell out of it. I couldn’t go back to the original tenement room – too risky, as Gaius Pullius – but I found a shakedown near the Tiber wharves where they don’t need names or ask questions so long as you pay up front. Then, when I reckoned I’d be safe enough, I cadged a lift to Ostia and walked through that door there as the long-lost brother home from the wars, just off the boat and with the Belgic mud still on my sandals. That was yesterday evening. Only it seems I was wrong about the safety part of things, doesn’t it?’ I didn’t reply. He shrugged, drank the rest of his wine, and set the cup down on the counter with an audible click. ‘So. That’s it, the whole story, first to last. I’ve no regrets, either way. What happens now?’
Trade Secrets Page 20