Solid Citizens

by David Wishart

  I wouldn’t get a better chance than this to take a proper nosey around. Book cubby, small but bursting to the gunnels with a fair collection of books, mostly philosophy, in the original and translation, but also including a copy of Herodotus’s ‘Histories’, Xenophon’s ‘Memorabilia’ and a couple of Sophoclean dramas. Serious stuff again, no Alexandrian bodice rippers. And, more to the point, no pricey bronze figurines squirrelled away under the couch, either. Well, it had been a possibility, although if Andromeda did have it then it’d be far more likely to be in her private flat upstairs than in her relatively public sitting room.

  Apropos of which …

  There was a curtain on the far wall that turned out, when I moved it aside, to be covering a flight of steps. So, the upstairs flat was accessible by an internal staircase as well as by the external one. It was odd that I couldn’t hear anyone moving about in the room above, mind, particularly since from the light showing between the boards the sitting-room ceiling was also the room’s actual floor. But then maybe Andromeda was a late riser.

  I sat down on the stool to wait for her. Half an hour or so later, I heard the sound of footsteps on the ceiling boards, then on the stairs, and Andromeda came through the curtain.

  She stopped dead. For a moment she looked … Fazed? Frightened? Guilty? I wasn’t sure which, if any. Flustered, certainly, like she’d been caught out somehow. And white as a ghost.

  ‘Valerius Corvinus,’ she said. ‘You gave me quite a start.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I said. ‘Carillus told me you wouldn’t mind me waiting for you in here.’

  ‘No. No, of course I don’t.’ She lay down on the couch and tried a smile that didn’t quite work. ‘But I am rather busy this morning, as it happens. Or will have to be, shortly, with house matters. What can I do for you?’

  ‘Just a couple more questions. When he was here that night, did Caesius have a small bronze with him? The figurine of a runner?’

  Was that a blink? It might’ve been, but I couldn’t be sure. In any case, she answered calmly enough.

  ‘I don’t know. He may have done. He was wearing his cloak when I let him in, so if the bronze was a very small one I wouldn’t have noticed. Why do you ask?’

  ‘Just checking possibilities. The chances are that he had it when he left home, and it’s gone missing. It was pretty valuable.’

  ‘Was it, indeed? It seems a strange thing to be carrying around, then. Would he have had a reason?’

  ‘Yeah. Seemingly he had a deal going with someone involving an exchange. Before he came here. But the deal fell through, so he’d still have it on him.’

  ‘Well, I’m afraid I can’t help you. All I can say is that I didn’t see it.’

  ‘How about his partner? Lydia? Would she know? Maybe I could talk to her again?’

  ‘Lydia isn’t here at present,’ she said shortly. ‘Her time of the month. She’s spending a few days with her mother and small son in Castra Albana.’

  ‘That’s pretty generous of you, lady. I didn’t think the girls in these places got days off.’

  She shrugged. ‘She can’t work. Obviously. Castra Albana is close by. And I’ve been one of these “girls” myself, Corvinus; I know how valuable free time is to them, particularly if they have children, as many of them do. If you can’t accept that explanation then put it down to a purely mercenary desire to save the cost of a few days’ rations and lamp oil. Now, if you have no more questions, as I said I have work to do, so …’

  ‘Marcus Manlius. Would he be a customer of yours, by any chance? Or Sextus Canidius, maybe?’

  It was a shot in the dark, but this time she really did blink. She hesitated before replying.

  ‘Both of them, yes, as it happens,’ she said. ‘But that information is given to you in the strictest confidence. Both are married – happily, as far as I’m aware – and they’re only occasional visitors.’

  ‘Either of them here the night of the murder?’

  Again, the hesitation. Then she said: ‘Canidius did drop in. Briefly. His visits are always brief. He’s quite a cold fish, according to the girls.’

  ‘When would that be? When Caesius was here?’

  ‘They overlapped, yes. But Canidius arrived after Caesius and left before him.’

  ‘They ever meet at all? Here, face to face, I mean?’

  ‘Not that I’m aware of, and we do everything we can where the special guests are concerned to avoid that happening. That’s always a possibility, of course, and if it had happened it would have been embarrassing for both parties. But as I told you last time Caesius generally went with Lydia, so unless Canidius – or, indeed, Manlius on another occasion – happened to come along the corridor as Caesius was actually entering or leaving by the back door then the situation wouldn’t have arisen. Naturally, if it did, none of them would have mentioned it to me.’

  ‘One last question, lady.’ I indicated the scarf round her neck. ‘The bootmaker in the alleyway outside said you’d been in a fire in Tibur, before you took over here. That so?’

  ‘Valerius Corvinus!’ She sat up on the couch and glared at me. ‘That can have nothing whatsoever to do with your investigation, and it is certainly none of your business otherwise!’

  ‘True. You’re right, and I was just interested. Only it was quite a lucky break, wasn’t it? That’s what the bootmaker said, anyway. Got you your freedom and the sub to buy this place.’

  ‘Indeed.’

  ‘There wouldn’t be much to spare, though, would there? I mean, money-wise. It must’ve taken quite a sizeable lump sum, and however grateful she was, your ex-mistress couldn’t have been all that generous. After all, what with the fire and everything, she’d have her own losses to recoup.’

  She was getting angry, and trying not to show it. ‘Corvinus, I repeat: that is none of your business. For your information, she gave me part of the money as a loan, in exchange for a share of the profits. A perfectly normal business arrangement between an ex-owner and her freed slave, which I was and am.’

  ‘Yeah, right. Only that’d shave your profit margins even further, wouldn’t it? And from the looks of things the place could do with some serious capital investment.’

  She flushed. ‘What exactly is your point, please? If you think I murdered Quintus Caesius and stole this statuette you claim he had with him, then—’

  ‘I was just wondering where you got the spare cash for that pricey perfume you’re wearing. Not to mention a Coan silk scarf, a wig that must’ve come from one of the best couturiers in Rome, and a fair-sized specialist library. Book copying doesn’t come cheap. Believe me, I know.’

  That fazed her; for a moment, she looked blank.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Of course, they might’ve been presents from a rich boyfriend. Me, I was wondering about Aulus Mettius.’

  She stood up. She was quivering with rage, sure, but there was something else there, in her eyes and her expression and her whole body language. ‘Valerius Corvinus, you will leave now, please!’ she snapped. ‘My private life is none of your concern!’

  I stood as well. ‘Fair enough,’ I said. ‘Thanks for your time.’

  I left her still glaring. Cage nicely rattled.

  Anger, yeah, I’d been expecting that, but there’d been that flash of something else when I mentioned Mettius. Even fear wasn’t putting it strongly enough. Unless I missed my guess, the lady was terrified.

  Interesting.

  OK, time for that early lunch. I went back to the main drag and turned right towards the market square and my usual wine shop. I was just passing the square and about to cross the road when someone shouted my name. I turned: Silius Nerva was hurrying towards me.

  ‘Corvinus, thank goodness!’ he said. ‘I’m glad I’ve caught you myself. I’ve had men out looking for you.’

  ‘Yeah?’ I said. ‘What about?’

  He was looking grave. ‘There’ve been … developments.’

  ‘What kind of developments?’<
br />
  ‘Aulus Mettius has been found dead. Murdered.’

  ‘What?’ I stared at him. ‘When?’

  ‘About an hour ago. The finding, anyway.’

  Gods! ‘Where did this happen?’

  ‘At the edge of his property, just outside town on the Castrimoenium side. His mother sent one of their slaves to tell me.’

  ‘The Castrimoenium side? You mean near Quintus Roscius’s place?’

  ‘Indeed. They’re close neighbours. As a matter of fact, it was Roscius who found the body.’

  ‘Roscius found it?’

  ‘Yes. He was out hunting, seemingly. Mettius was lying in a clearing between the two farms. His head had been beaten in.’ Sweet Jupiter! I remembered hoping, when Perilla had said that Mother and Priscus were arriving early, that there’d be another murder to take me out of the house. Be careful what you wish for, because it might come true. And this I hadn’t expected. ‘You’ll want to go over, naturally.’

  ‘Sure.’ My brain had gone numb. ‘The body’s still there?’

  ‘No. Vatinia Secunda – that’s his mother, of course – had it carried back to the villa. Corvinus, this business is dreadful! Simply dreadful!’

  ‘Yeah.’ I frowned. ‘OK, I’ll collect my horse and get over to the villa now. Where exactly is it?’

  ‘I’ll have my slave take you.’ He glanced round at the slave who had followed him and was waiting just within earshot. ‘Tertius. Take Valerius Corvinus to the Mettius villa. Stay with him as long as you’re needed.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’ The slave touched his forelock.

  ‘Hang on,’ I said to Nerva. ‘You think you could send someone over to Castrimoenium to ask Cornelius Clarus if he’d join me?’

  ‘The doctor?’ He looked nonplussed. ‘It’s a little late for that, surely.’

  ‘I just thought he might be able to help, that’s all.’

  ‘Well, if you think he’d be useful, of course I’ll see to it at once.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  He went off, leaving me sorely puzzled. Who would want to kill Aulus Mettius? And why?

  SEVENTEEN

  Slaves were already outside the entrance to the Mettius villa hanging up the branches of funeral pine and myrtle. Before I’d got as far as the door one of them had gone into the house and reappeared with the major-domo.

  ‘Valerius Corvinus?’ he said.

  ‘Yeah,’ I said as I dismounted. ‘Look, I’m sorry to disturb you, but Silius Nerva said—’

  ‘No, that’s all right, sir. It was the mistress who asked him to send you straight over if he could. This way, please.’

  I left Nerva’s Tertius to look after the horse and followed him inside. I thought, as with Caesius, they might’ve laid the corpse out in the atrium, but maybe it was too soon even for that, and they were waiting for the undertakers. In any case, the room was empty apart from an elderly woman in a mourning mantle sitting in a chair. Vatinia, presumably – Mettius’s mother and Quintus Caesius’s sister-in-law. She looked up when I came in.

  ‘Valerius Corvinus, madam,’ the major-domo said.

  ‘Thank you, Phrontis. Bring a stool over for him, please, and then you can go.’ Her eyes were fixed on a point to the left of my shoulder. They were covered with a white film, and I realized she was blind. ‘It’s good of you to come so quickly.’

  ‘I was in town anyway, and I bumped into Silius Nerva in the street,’ I said. ‘I’m sorry for your loss, Vatinia. You’re, uh, sure you want to talk to me now? I mean …’

  ‘I’ll grieve later, Valerius Corvinus. At present, the fact of Aulus’s death hasn’t really sunk in. I’d rather I talked to you now, if I must, before it does.’

  The major-domo brought the stool, bowed, and left. I sat down.

  ‘Very well,’ I said. ‘Can you tell me anything about what happened? Anything at all?’

  ‘No. I keep mostly to my own room these days, even for meals. Aulus was a good son, in some ways at least, but although we occupied the same house we lived quite separate lives. According to Phrontis – and you can confirm this with him yourself, of course – he went out shortly after breakfast, which was the last time anyone saw him. Our neighbour Quintus Roscius came round about two hours later to say that he’d found his body in the grove of pines up beyond our topmost vineyard. That’s really all I can tell you.’

  ‘Your son didn’t say where he was going? Whether he was meeting someone, for example?’

  ‘Not to me, certainly. I hadn’t talked to him since he came to my room yesterday evening to say goodnight, as he usually did when he was sleeping at home. But Phrontis would know.’

  ‘He, uh, spent his nights elsewhere on occasions, then?’

  Vatinia smiled. ‘Aulus wasn’t a child, Corvinus. And nor am I. Yes, quite frequently, although to my knowledge he never brought the woman to the house. That would have upset me greatly, and he knew it.’

  ‘“The woman”? A particular one?’

  ‘The freedwoman. Andromeda. I hear she runs a brothel now in the town. I’ve nothing against that in itself – she must live, after all – but I was sorry he’d taken up with her again after all these years. I’d hoped, when he came back home, he’d marry a girl of his own class and settle down properly. But then that wasn’t Aulus’s way.’

  ‘“Again”? They knew each other before she moved here?’

  ‘Oh, yes. When she was my brother-in-law’s slave. It was quite the family scandal. We expected, when he got rid of her to a woman in Tibur, that to be the end of the affair. As, at the time, it was.’

  ‘Andromeda was Quintus Caesius’s slave?’

  ‘Indeed. Many years ago now, of course. Aulus could only have been seventeen, and the girl was about the same age, or slightly younger. You didn’t know?’

  ‘No.’ Holy gods alive! ‘No, I didn’t.’

  ‘Aulus always was wild. His father died when he was seven, but even before that he had a mind of his own, and he was constantly getting into trouble. My brother-in-law did his best to help the boy, of course, out of duty to the family, but even I realized that it was a losing battle. Worse: it was through his association with Quintus that he became involved with the slave girl. And then there was the business of the missing money and his relegation. I thought that might bring him to his senses, but it wasn’t to be. When the woman got her freedom and moved back into the neighbourhood he took up with her again straight away. He was quite besotted.’

  Sweet Jupiter! I remembered the lack of any sound from Andromeda’s flat above her sitting room. Oh, sure, she could’ve been in bed until just before she came down, but it was equally possible that the flat had been empty, that she hadn’t been upstairs at all, and that she’d just come in via the outside stair. It would explain why she was flustered when she’d found me there, too. ‘He couldn’t’ve been seeing her today, could he?’ I said. ‘Arranged a meeting for this morning, I mean?’

  ‘It’s possible, although I wouldn’t have thought so, certainly not here. Why should he? He always went to her; she has a flat above her place of business. But as I said I don’t know.’

  I was thinking hard. I agreed with the lady that an arranged early-morning meeting out here in the sticks – particularly since it wouldn’t have been at the villa itself – was pretty unlikely on the face of it, but it was still definitely something to check up on, because if that had been the way of things then it raised some very interesting possibilities indeed. The major-domo Phrontis might be able to shed some light. Plus, like I said, there was the distinct probability that she’d been out and about that morning before I talked to her, so she must’ve gone somewhere. A meeting with her boyfriend was as good a solution as any. I didn’t know how exactly it would fit in with Mettius’s death, mind – if they’d been lovers, as they obviously had been, then why she’d want to kill him I couldn’t think – but where Quintus Caesius’s murder was concerned the undisclosed past connection between the two combined with the opportunity factor put her
squarely on the most-likely suspects list. Pretty well near the top of it, at that.

  Whatever the truth of the matter, I would sure as hell be having another word with the lady herself before she was much older.

  ‘Is there anything else you can tell me, Vatinia?’ I said. ‘About your son’s recent activities? Any names he’s mentioned in the last few days, and so on, that might be a clue to why he died? Anything at all, really, however trivial.’

  ‘No, I’m afraid not. As I said, Aulus led his own life. Talk to Phrontis. He may be able to help you more.’

  ‘Yeah,’ I said. ‘Yes, I’ll do that.’ I stood up. ‘Thank you. Again, I’m terribly sorry.’

  She nodded acknowledgement. ‘He was a good boy at heart, you know,’ she said. ‘He had his faults, as do we all, perhaps more than most, but he didn’t deserve to die for them. Certainly not in the way that he did. Find his killer for me. Please.’

  I got up and left the room. The major-domo was waiting for me in the lobby.

  ‘Would you like to see the young master, sir?’ he said. ‘Or perhaps the place where he was found? I’ll have one of the slaves take you.’

  ‘Yeah,’ I said. ‘Both. But I’ll wait for my son-in-law, if you don’t mind. He should be coming over from Castrimoenium.’

  ‘Your son-in-law?’

  ‘Cornelius Clarus. The doctor. I asked Silius Nerva to send for him. Meanwhile I was wondering if you had anything you could tell me yourself.’

  He frowned. ‘Not really, sir.’

  ‘Your master didn’t say where he was going, or why? That he’d arranged a meeting with someone, for example?’

  ‘No. He left with hardly a word, just after breakfast. I assumed he was going into town.’

  ‘On foot?’

  ‘It isn’t far. And he usually walked, whatever the weather.’

  ‘Was he carrying anything?’

  ‘Such as what, sir?’

  ‘A small bronze statuette, for example?’

  ‘I don’t think so. But then if he had been I probably wouldn’t have noticed. It was raining, and he was wearing his heavy cloak.’