Trade Secrets Read online

  I left.

  Interesting, yes?

  SEVEN

  I got back to the Caelian well before dinner time, to find Perilla in the atrium babysitting, with the Sprog on the couch beside her and Mysta in attendance; evidently the currently sprogless Clarus and Marilla hadn’t rolled in yet from whatever junketing they were indulging in today, which suited me fine, because I could fill the lady in on recent developments. Not, I knew, that the blessed status quo would hold for much longer; at the very least, when I told Marilla – as I’d have to straight off, because she was sure to ask – that I’d turned my nose up at her murder the shit was going to hit the fan in no uncertain terms. So a bit of quiet before the storm was welcome.

  ‘Oh, hello, Marcus, you’re back,’ Perilla said. ‘Look, he can almost sit up on his own now. Isn’t that marvellous?’ Then, to the Sprog: ‘Who’s a clever boy? Grandad’s home.’ The Sprog blew a respectable raspberry at me and tried to stuff the little wooden horse he was holding into his mouth. ‘He’s getting on really well for his age. And I think he might be teething.’

  ‘Is that so?’ I lay down on the couch opposite and set the full wine-cup that Bathyllus had given me on the table. It’s always amazed me how even when they’ve no kids of their own women turn into hands-on experts inside of five minutes where babies are concerned. That, and pick up the gooey voice which seems to be an essential part of the communication process.

  ‘Do you want him for a bit?’ Perilla said.

  ‘Uh-uh. Not me.’

  ‘He won’t break, dear. And he’s really very amenable.’

  ‘Yeah, I’m sure he is.’ I eyed the Sprog warily. He’d evidently got the horse’s head just where he wanted it and was giving it a thorough gumming while he stared back at me with fascinated interest. ‘Even so.’

  ‘Well, have it your own way. Actually, though, he is feeling a bit moist underneath, so I think he might need changing.’ She turned round to Mysta. ‘Would you, Mysta? You can bring him back down again later when your mistress gets home.’

  ‘Yes, madam.’ Mysta collected the Sprog from her and carried him off, holding the wooden horse in place. Perilla smoothed her tunic – I was sure I saw a damp patch there; a lucky escape, then – and turned back towards me.

  ‘So,’ she said. ‘How was your day?’

  ‘Pretty successful, all told,’ I said. ‘I talked to the husbands. Vecilius is our boy.’

  ‘You’re sure?’ Perilla said.

  ‘He said he’d been at the workshop all day, which was a complete out-and-out porky. There was at least an hour unaccounted for, which would’ve been plenty of time to commit the murder.’ I told her what the wineshop owner had told me. ‘Chances are he came on Tullius sniffing around again and knifed him.’

  ‘But, Marcus, that doesn’t make any sense.’

  ‘Oh? Why not?’

  ‘First of all, Tullius would have to be a complete fool to go anywhere near Vecilius’s wife, particularly since he knew that Vecilius knew about the affair. Secondly, how would Vecilius have got him into the shrine? Tullius would’ve known that to agree to a private encounter off the beaten track would be simply asking for trouble.’

  ‘You got a better suggestion?’

  ‘No, but—’

  ‘Then clam up. Look. The scenario’s simple. Vecilius has spent the morning shifting the booze in the local wineshop and sounding off about his wife’s lover. He gets thrown out and on his way home he sees Tullius near Melobosis Alley.’ Then, when she opened her mouth to protest: ‘OK; maybe he was a complete fool. The point is he was there, whether you like it or not, and the logical assumption – which would be Vecilius’s as well – is that the guy was tomcatting. Vecilius straight-arms him, takes him to the shrine for a private word, there’s a frank exchange of views, and Tullius ends up stiffed. Vecilius goes back to the wineshop and gets properly stewed. Now me, I can’t see what the problem is here.’

  ‘All right.’ Perilla sniffed. ‘Have it your own way. Only it is a little obvious, isn’t it?’

  ‘Jupiter and all the gods, lady!’

  ‘Yes, I know. But let’s assume for the sake of argument that Vecilius wasn’t the killer. What else have you got? What about the other outraged husband? You spoke to him, too, yes?’

  ‘Sure. Lucilius Festus. He seemed pretty straight.’

  ‘Could he have done it? In terms of opportunity, I mean?’

  ‘Maybe. I had a talk with the local Watch Commander, and the body could’ve lain there the whole day, so we’ve no time slot. Festus claimed he took a couple of hours off in the afternoon to go to the Temple of Mercury.’

  ‘And did he?’

  ‘Possibly. But my chances of checking are zilch, because half the merchants and tradesmen in Rome were paying their respects that day. The place would’ve been heaving.’

  ‘What was he like as a person?’

  ‘I said: he seemed pretty straight, solid family type. Not the murdering kind. That was Watch Commander Memmius’s view, too.’

  ‘Hmm.’ Perilla was twisting a strand of her hair. ‘Perhaps all the more reason, then, if he’d found out Tullius had seduced his wife. How long had he known, by the way?’

  ‘Seemingly Marcia – that’s the wife – got an anonymous letter shoved under the door the day before the murder, and he’d intercepted it. The day he and Vecilius went round to alter the guy’s face for him at his office, in other words.’ I told her the story. ‘Me, I don’t think we need look far for the person who sent it. Annia told me she knew the two women’s names, and if she was pushing for a divorce – which she was – then stirring things might’ve seemed a good idea.’

  ‘Or it might have been Poetelius.’

  ‘What?’

  Perilla shrugged. ‘It’s just as possible, in practical terms. He knew the situation as well. And he knew where Festus and Marcia lived. Did Annia know that?’

  ‘Why the hell would Poetelius want to blow the whistle on Tullius? Particularly since it’d set two of the company’s suppliers at a partner’s throat.’

  ‘I don’t know, dear. I only said it was a possibility, which it is. Who else did you talk to?’

  ‘Titus Vibius. The supplier Festus replaced.’

  ‘Anything there?’

  I frowned. ‘Maybe. He hated Tullius, that was for sure, and in the way of business that made sense, because the bastard nearly bankrupted him.’ I told her about the cancelled contract. ‘Even so, and even if that were a good enough reason in itself for murder, which I doubt, the timing’d be all wrong. After all, it was past history, over a year ago, and the guy’s business is more or less back on an even keel these days.’

  ‘Does he have a wife?’

  I shot her a glance. ‘No. He’s a widower. He has a daughter, sure, a real looker. I wondered about her at the time, but I doubt if she’s a factor.’

  ‘Why so?’

  ‘Because it wouldn’t fit the pattern. She’s barely more than a kid, and from what we know of Tullius’s tomcatting activities he went for older, married women. Besides, like I said, there’s the question of timing.’

  ‘It’s another possibility, though, isn’t it?’ She was still twisting the lock of hair. ‘Myself, I’d like to know how long Vibius’s wife has been dead. And how she died.’

  I stared at her; gods, the lady had a more suspicious mind than I did. Fortunately. ‘Uh … good point,’ I said. ‘Well done. OK, filed for reference.’

  ‘So what are your plans now?’

  ‘I’ll try to have a word with the two wives, see what they have to say. Vecilius’s Hermia’ll be tricky, sure, because the house is bang next door to the workshop and I can’t see chummie being too cooperative, or too friendly if he knows I’m calling. Marcia’s easier: she’s gone off to her mother’s near the Capenan Gate, or she probably has. And there’s the Ostia side of things to check out as well. Lots to be going on with.’ I took a swallow of the wine. ‘So. How are things on the domestic front? Any developme
nts in the Petillius saga?’

  ‘Absolutely none. I passed Tyndaris in the street this morning and got a frozen glare. Oh, and according to Bathyllus the household had a visit afterwards from a monumental sculptor. I suspect the next stage will be a small tomb in the garden.’

  Fuck. The gods save me from OTT cat-lovers. Well, if the silly beggars wanted to throw their money around that was their concern. We’d just have to keep our heads below the parapet and hope things calmed down.

  ‘Well, if we’re lucky the whole thing will just—’ I stopped; I’d heard the front door and the sound of footsteps crossing the lobby.

  The kids were back. I took a deep breath and a hefty gulp of wine; chances were I was going to need it.

  ‘Hi.’ Marilla came in, with Clarus in tow. ‘What time’s dinner? We’re starving.’

  ‘Another hour, I’m afraid, dear,’ Perilla said.

  ‘Marcus been good?’ She grinned at me as she lay down on the third couch. ‘The small one, I mean.’

  ‘Good as gold. He’s upstairs with Mysta, being changed. I think he’s cutting his first tooth.’

  ‘Yes, he is dribbling a lot.’

  ‘So where did you go?’

  ‘The Saepta.’ Clarus settled down beside Marilla. ‘Shopping.’

  I winced; no wonder the guy was looking frayed round the edges. With two-and-a-half years of marriage under his belt, I’d’ve thought he would have developed shopping-avoidance strategies by now – after all, they’re among the most essential survival skills for husbands – but evidently not. Still, living down in the Alban Hills he wouldn’t’ve had the practice.

  ‘Marilla, you should have told me!’ Perilla said. ‘I’d’ve come with you.’

  ‘It was only an afterthought.’ Marilla looked round: Bathyllus had come up on her blind side, touting for orders. ‘Oh. Some fruit juice, please, Bathyllus. And if dinner’s going to be another hour, could you bring me a cheese roll? Or make it two. With a slice of ham and some pickles.’

  ‘Certainly, madam.’ He looked at Clarus. ‘Sir?’

  ‘Wine, Bathyllus. Just wine.’

  I grinned. He was no great wine drinker, our Clarus; the shopping trip had obviously been Fraught.

  ‘I’ll have a top-up, too, little guy,’ I said, draining my cup and handing it to him. ‘Perilla?’

  ‘No, not for me.’

  Bathyllus went out.

  ‘We’d actually intended to go up to Sallust Gardens, which we did,’ Marilla said. ‘But coming back we got a bit side-tracked. Still, it was only a sort of preliminary reconnaissance. I didn’t buy much, and we can easily go again tomorrow.’

  I didn’t even look at Clarus.

  ‘That’d be marvellous, dear,’ Perilla said. ‘We’ll make a whole day of it. There are two new shops off Augustus Square you won’t know about that are well worth a look.’

  Marilla turned back to me.

  ‘So how did it go, Corvinus?’ she said.

  ‘Ah … how did what go?’

  ‘Your visit to what’s-his-name. Your Palatine Watch Commander friend.’ I hesitated. ‘You did go over and talk to him this morning, didn’t you?’

  Hell; here we went. ‘Decimus Lippillus,’ I said. ‘Yeah, more or less. First thing, as it happens. A complete coincidence, that. He’s just been moved to Tuscan Street from Public Pond, and—’

  ‘Did he agree to let you look into things?’

  ‘In essence, but—’

  ‘That’s marvellous! So you’ll be taking the case.’

  ‘Um … no, not exactly.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘The fact is, Marilla, to tell you the truth, not to put too fine a point on it, I’m a bit busy with other things at present, so—’

  ‘What sort of …?’ She stopped. ‘You toad! You lying toad! You’re working on a case after all!’

  ‘Come on, Princess! Give me a break, OK?’ I glanced over at Perilla, but she was industriously picking a thread off her tunic. ‘I can explain.’

  ‘Are you or aren’t you?’

  ‘Uh … yeah, as it happens, I am, but—’

  ‘You told me at breakfast yesterday that you weren’t!’

  ‘No. To be fair, what I actually said was—’

  ‘All right. You fudged. Same difference. And you’d certainly told Clarus you weren’t in so many words the morning before.’

  ‘Hold on, Marilla! That was true enough at the time! Tullia sodding Gemella didn’t tell me her sodding brother had been killed until that afternoon.’

  ‘Marcus, dear, please,’ Perilla murmured.

  ‘Yeah, well.’

  ‘I call it mean.’ Marilla was glaring at me. ‘Mean, despicable and toadlike.’

  ‘She’s right, Corvinus,’ Clarus said.

  Shit; what had happened to male solidarity? And I would’ve expected Perilla to have put in her pennyworth by now; she was as guilty as I was. I’d be having words with the lady later. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Bathyllus come in with a loaded tray, do a sharp about-turn, and disappear again. Traitors, the lot of them.

  ‘Very well,’ Marilla said. ‘One murder is as good as another, I suppose. You can tell us – Clarus and me – about it now, please, because I assume Perilla knows the full details already.’ I saw the lady wince, and despite myself I grinned: she’d just have to grit her teeth, and frankly it served her damn well right. ‘Tullia Gemella, you said.’

  ‘Marilla, dear, I don’t think—’ Perilla began mildly.

  The Princess just gave her a Look. I grinned again.

  ‘OK, Bathyllus,’ I said loudly. ‘You can come in now. Serve away.’ He did, like he was walking on eggs.

  So while Marilla tucked into her cheese rolls, with pauses for mouth-full questions, I told them.

  EIGHT

  At least Marilla was committed to the extended shopping trip next day, and the more opportunities I had to establish clear lines of demarcation – i.e. it was my job to hike around Rome solving murders, and hers to keep off my back – the better.

  Today was the Day of the Adulterous Wives. I started with Marcia.

  The Capenan Gate, at the foot of the Caelian where Appian Road enters the south-east corner of the city, wasn’t all that far, sure, but because I didn’t have a name for the woman’s mother finding the cookshop itself was tricky, and it took me until just short of mid-morning. The place seemed pretty popular, which was a good sign where the food on offer was concerned: there was a queue in front of me and two women and a girl of about nine or ten serving. I waited until the last of the punters had collected his flatbread-wrapped chickpea rissoles and left, then moved up to the counter.

  ‘Yes, sir, what can I get you?’ It was the younger of the two women, mid- to late twenties, so ten, maybe fifteen years younger than Festus; pretty enough, but with a pinched, drawn look to her face. Her eyes were red, too.

  ‘Your name Marcia?’ I said.

  She frowned. ‘Yes. Yes, it is.’

  ‘You think we could talk somewhere in private?’

  The frown deepened. ‘What about?’

  ‘The name’s Corvinus. I’m looking into the death of a guy called Gaius Tullius. I understand you and he—’

  Which was as far as I got before her eyes rolled up under the lids and she slipped down behind the counter, banging her head on the stonework. Shit.

  The older woman and the girl were staring, frozen. Then the woman moved. She glared at me and crouched over the fallen body.

  ‘Get a cup of water for me, dear,’ she said sideways to the girl; from the facial resemblance, obviously her granddaughter and Marcia’s daughter. Yeah: Festus had said she’d taken the children with her. ‘Quickly, now.’

  Without taking her eyes off Marcia, the kid edged over to the water pitcher, filled a cup, and handed it to her. The woman held it to Marcia’s lips and looked up at me, still glaring.

  ‘You!’ she snapped. ‘Outside!’

  Yeah, well, in retrospect maybe I could’ve been
a smidgeon more tactful, at that. Still, it was done now. I left without a word and stood by the door.

  Marcia came out five minutes later, white as a ghost and with an angry-looking bruise on her forehead.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered.

  ‘That’s OK, lady. My fault.’ There was a street fountain with a stone step next to us. ‘You want to sit down?’

  She did, and took several deep breaths.

  ‘Gaius is dead?’ she said at last.

  ‘Yeah. Five days ago.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘He was stabbed in an alleyway off Trigemina Gate Street.’

  She closed her eyes and said nothing. I waited.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she said again. ‘I didn’t know. I’ve been here helping my mother with the shop, ever since—’ She stopped.

  ‘Ever since your husband found out about the affair and threw you out. Yeah. I know.’

  Her eyes opened. ‘Lucilius had nothing to do with it! He’s a good man! He wouldn’t hurt a fly!’

  ‘OK.’ I hesitated, then said, more gently: ‘You like to tell me what happened that morning, exactly?’

  ‘I had an anonymous letter pushed under the door, telling me Gaius wouldn’t be seeing me any more, he’d taken up with Hermia, Titus Vecilius’s wife. Lucilius was up already and he read it first. He was furious. He told me he was going round to Gaius’s office, which he did. Luckily, nothing happened because Gaius was out.’

  My mouth was open to ask the obvious question, but I decided to let it go at present. Instead, I said: ‘So you went to Hermia’s, right? To have it out with her?’

  She nodded. ‘I didn’t think. I was just … so … angry! Gaius hadn’t even had the courage to tell me himself, after we’d been …’ She swallowed. ‘I’ve known Hermia for years, I thought we were friends, and that made it worse. Anyway, we were screaming at each other when her husband walked in. He grabbed me and bundled me outside. Then I went back home, collected the children, and came straight here.’

  Yeah, well; it all fitted with what Vecilius himself had told me. Not that it had anything specific to do with the actual murder, mind, but it was good to get independent confirmation. ‘How long had the affair been going on?’ I said.