Trade Secrets Read online

  I went through. Perilla was lying on her couch with an open book-roll. She looked up, and I gave her the usual back-home kiss.

  ‘OK, lady,’ I said. ‘Tell me the worst.’

  ‘Nothing very drastic, dear.’ She set the book aside. ‘Just a small contretemps at the fruit market.’ Jupiter! First a fracas, now a contretemps! ‘There was no actual blood spilled, and Paullus will be perfectly all right when the concussion wears off.’

  ‘Concussion? And who the hell is Paullus?’

  ‘Next door’s chef. Meton hit him with a melon. Quite a large one, I understand.’

  ‘He did what?’

  ‘Of course, next door aren’t too happy about it, but from what Meton says it was largely the man’s own fault.’

  Gods! I put the wine-cup down on the table and yelled: ‘Bathyllus!’

  He soft-sandalled in. ‘Yes, sir?’

  ‘Tell Meton I want to see him! Now!’

  ‘Yes, sir.’ He soft-sandalled out.

  I turned back to Perilla. ‘How much not happy would this be, then?’ I said. ‘On a scale, say, of one to ten?’

  ‘That would be ten. At least.’

  ‘Ah.’ Bugger! This we could do without!

  ‘I did go round to apologize to Tyndaris personally as soon as Marilla and I got back. She said it was bad enough living next door to cat-killers without having their staff launch murderous attacks on her own domestics. Also that Appropriate Steps would be Taken; the emphasis is hers. Then she threw me out. Very politely, of course.’

  Fuck. Double fuck. ‘Did she say—?’

  ‘You wanted to see me?’

  I turned to find Meton doing his usual looming act and wearing his customary put-upon expression.

  ‘Only I’ve got a delicate sauce on the simmer, so it’ll have to be quick.’

  ‘Just tell me what happened, sunshine.’

  ‘I was unduly provoked.’

  I sighed: in Meton’s book, undue provocation might be a raised eyebrow or a cough out of turn. Or even minor eyeballing. ‘In what way, exactly?’

  ‘I was at Mama Silvia’s stall in the market, like, buyin’ pears, an’ he, that’s that bastard Paullus, was standin’ behind me in the queue. I says to Mama, “I’ll take some of them Dolabellians for a compote, love,” an’ Paullus says, “Nah, you want Laterans for that, pal,” then I turns round and says, “Rubbish, Laterans’re too moist for a compote,” then he says, “Moist? The way you cook, your lot wouldn’t notice if you used bloody Falernians.” So I picked up a melon and belted him with it.’

  I winced. ‘Ah … right. Right.’

  ‘The bastard had it coming.’

  ‘No doubt. But still—’

  ‘I mean – Falernians! For a sodding compote? Give me a fucking break! An’ he claims to be a chef!’

  ‘Yeah, well, I can see why you’d find that shocking, pal, but perhaps your response was just a smidgeon—’

  ‘Anicians, OK, they’re on the tart side, sure, particularly if they’re picked too early, but I could’ve taken Anicians in my stride. Falernians, now, that is just fucking insulting!’

  I closed my eyes for a moment. ‘Thank you, Meton. Very concisely and graphically explained. You can go.’

  He went. I picked up my wine-cup, took a long swallow, and lay down on the second couch. ‘Gods!’

  ‘It was deliberate provocation, Marcus,’ Perilla said.

  ‘Yeah. Yeah, I know that.’ Pushing Meton’s button was simplicity itself, and these feuds tend to spread to the bought help pretty quickly. ‘Even so—’

  ‘Well, what’s done is done.’

  True. ‘Where’re the kids?’ I said. ‘Out gallivanting again? I thought you were all going shopping together?’

  ‘Marilla and I did. Clarus said he had a doctor friend of his father’s to see, over in Transtiber. He isn’t back yet, and Marilla is upstairs playing with little Marcus.’ A friend of his father’s, eh? Maybe the boy was learning after all. I grinned. ‘How was your day? Profitable?’

  I gave her the rundown. ‘So it looks like Festus is out of it,’ I said. ‘Vecilius is still the front runner, easy, but I’d risk a hefty side-bet on Poetelius.’

  ‘The partner?’ Her eyes widened in surprise. ‘Is he the murdering type?’

  ‘No. Or not especially. But the guy in the wineshop was right. Given a connection with Annia, he’s got motivation in spades.’

  ‘Namely?’

  I ticked the points off. ‘Tullius wouldn’t agree to a divorce. If the affair’s serious – and I’d guess that it is – getting rid of the husband’s the only way forward.’

  ‘You think it’s that serious? After all, why should Poetelius bother? Tullius had no real interest in his wife, he had his own affairs which he took no great pains to keep secret, and he knew about the relationship already.’

  ‘Poetelius told me he and Annia had been friends since they were kids. The impression I got when I talked to him was that he’d carried a candle for her from the start but that Tullius had sweet-talked her into marrying him instead. Which sounds like Tullius all over. And I’d’ve put Poetelius down as pretty conventional.’

  ‘Not conventional enough to draw the line at adultery.’

  ‘Come on, Perilla! The marriage was a sham, and he wasn’t breaking up any happy households. Unlike his partner.’

  ‘Hmm.’ She was twisting a lock of her hair.

  ‘Besides – second point – there’s the financial aspect. Tullius was running the firm into the ground, making policy decisions for personal rather than business reasons. On the other side, Annia was providing the money that kept things going and Poetelius had the expertise. In the business sense, Tullius was nothing but dead weight. Worse, he was a liability. All in all, like a lot of people seem to be saying, the guy was a complete waste of space. Poetelius – and Annia – will be far better off without him.’

  ‘It’s still not necessarily a good enough reason for killing him.’

  ‘Jupiter, lady, how much more do you want?’ I took an exasperated swallow of the wine. ‘OK, it’s all provisional, I grant you. But it’s a valid theory. And Poetelius sure as hell lied about being in the neighbourhood of Trigemina Gate Street the day of the murder.’

  ‘No, he didn’t. He simply didn’t tell you that he was.’

  ‘Yeah, well, that amounts to the same thing, doesn’t it? Besides, what excuse did he have? He wasn’t there on business seeing Vecilius or Festus, because liaising with the suppliers was Tullius’s job, and if for some reason he had been they would’ve mentioned it. Plus it was a public holiday. And that part of town’s on the way to nowhere except the Emporium and Pottery Mountain.’

  ‘So what do you do now?’

  I shrugged. ‘Face him with it. See what he says. And have another talk with Annia. That lady has beans to spill.’ The front door banged. ‘That sounds like Clarus back.’

  It was.

  ‘Hi, Corvinus. Perilla,’ he said when he came in. ‘Sorry, I got held up. Old Theo got to reminiscing. Not late, am I?’

  ‘No, no, you’re fine, pal,’ I said. ‘Meton and next door’s chef had a contretemps involving a melon, so things are a bit behind.’

  He frowned. ‘What?’

  ‘Perilla’ll explain.’

  Bathyllus shimmied in. ‘The chef says to inform you that dinner is ready whenever you are, sir. Finally.’

  ‘I’ll go and tell Marilla, Marcus,’ Perilla said. ‘You and Clarus go straight through.’

  She went upstairs.

  ‘“Theo”?’ I said to Clarus.

  He was looking shifty. ‘Aemilius Theodorus,’ he said. ‘A friend of Dad’s. I thought I’d look him up while we were here. While the women were off shopping.’

  ‘Yeah. Right.’ I waited. ‘So, uh, where were you really?’

  He grinned. ‘I went back to the Pollio. I said: they’ve got a lot of stuff by Erasistratus there, and I didn’t have time to see all of it I wanted.’

  ‘N
othing to do with the guy who was stabbed? Marcus Correllius?’

  He gave me a look of genuine puzzlement. ‘No, of course not! Why the hell should it be?’

  Right; right: we moved in different worlds, Clarus and me, except when they overlapped occasionally. And I knew it wouldn’t’ve been a wineshop.

  I turned to Bathyllus, who was still hovering.

  ‘The dessert isn’t pear compote, is it, sunshine?’ I said.

  ‘No.’ He sniffed. ‘Pear compote will not be featuring this evening, sir.’

  ‘How about slightly damaged melon?’

  Not a flicker: Bathyllus moved in a different world as well, and humour played a very small part in it.

  ‘Not that either,’ he said. ‘I understand Meton has decided on a preserved fruit and honey pudding.’

  Well, no doubt things would get back to normal when our socially disadvantaged chef had repaired his bridges with the local suppliers. Or just found one who didn’t mind him using their produce as an offensive weapon.

  ‘Fine,’ I said.

  We went through.

  TEN

  I called in at Poetelius’s office first thing the next morning.

  ‘Corvinus!’ The guy was sitting behind his desk slaving over a hot abacus and a pile of wax tablets. ‘How’s the investigation going? Any progress?’

  ‘Yeah,’ I said. ‘We’re getting there.’

  ‘Good.’ He smiled. ‘So what can I do for you?’

  I pulled up the stool and sat down. ‘For a start, pal, you can tell me what you were doing in Trigemina Gate Street the day your partner was murdered. And why you didn’t feel obliged to mention being there the last time we talked.’

  The smile faded. ‘Ah.’

  ‘“Ah” is right.’

  His fingers drummed on the desk. ‘Titus Vibius told you, presumably?’

  ‘Vibius? Why Vibius?’

  ‘Because it was him I went to see, of course.’

  ‘There’s no “of course” about it. Maybe you’d better give me the whys and wherefores from the beginning.’

  ‘All right.’ He took a deep breath. ‘I told you: Vibius supplied most of our pottery prior to Festus, and he was much better all round. Not renewing his contract was Gaius’s idea, not mine, quite the contrary. When Festus came here the day before threatening to punch Gaius’s lights out I naturally assumed the business association was at an end, and that therefore we would be looking for a new supplier. Going back to Vibius – if he was willing, after the shabby way Gaius treated him – was the obvious solution, and I decided to sound him out. Coincidentally, the next day was a holiday, the office would be closed, and so I wouldn’t have to explain my unaccustomed absence to Gaius.’ He smiled. ‘Or rather to invent a story explaining it, because as you can imagine I didn’t want it to appear that I was going over his head.’

  ‘So why didn’t you tell me this in the first place?’

  ‘Would you have, if you’d been me?’ he said simply. ‘When I knew where Gaius’s body had been found?’

  ‘It would’ve been more sensible.’

  ‘Perhaps so, and I apologize. Anyway, now you can check with Vibius. He’ll confirm matters.’

  Yeah, well, he probably would. Although that didn’t let the guy off the hook altogether, not by a long chalk. ‘And you didn’t bump into Tullius at all while you were there?’

  ‘No. I didn’t know it might be a possibility. In fact, if I had known I wouldn’t’ve gone there in the first place.’

  ‘OK,’ I said. ‘One more thing. You’re having an affair with Annia, right?’

  He sat back. ‘Who told you that?’

  There was no reason not to tell him. ‘Festus’s wife, Marcia. She said Tullius had told her himself.’

  ‘Then he was lying. Or she was. We’re good friends, Annia and me, we have been most of our lives, but that’s as far as it goes.’ He stood up. ‘And now I think you should go too, Corvinus. I’ve a lot to do this morning, and I’ve helped you all I can in this matter. Good day to you.’

  Short and sweet. Yeah, well, if Poetelius was our man – and nothing he’d said went very far towards proving he wasn’t – then I’d rattled his cage pretty thoroughly. I got up and replaced the stool.

  ‘Fine,’ I said. ‘I’ll be seeing you around, pal.’

  He didn’t answer. As I left, I could feel his eyes boring into my back.

  OK, now for the lady. I retraced my steps down Head of Africa Road and through the Caelian to the junction with Ardeatina Gate Street at the Metrovian Gate, by which time the morning was mostly spent. Perfect timing, counting a stopover for a quick cup of wine, for a social call.

  This time, she was sitting in the garden. Otherwise, history had repeated itself in the shape of the visitor in the other wickerwork chair opposite her.

  ‘Valerius Corvinus,’ Quintus Annius said, getting up. ‘We were just talking about you.’

  ‘Is that so, now?’ I said.

  His sister smiled. ‘Nothing you couldn’t have heard.’ Then, to the slave who’d brought me out: ‘Timon, another chair. And perhaps a cup of wine?’ She looked at me.

  ‘Thanks. That’d be great.’

  ‘For you, Quintus?’

  ‘No, I’m fine.’ The slave left. ‘Sit here, Corvinus, please. Timon won’t be a moment. So. How are things going?’

  I sat down. ‘Pretty well, considering,’ I said cautiously. Like the last time, I had the feeling that I’d walked in on something. Oh, the two of them were behaving naturally enough, and when you came down to it there was no reason why the guy shouldn’t be seeing a lot of his sister at present, things being as they were. But the coincidence didn’t sit easy all the same.

  ‘Well,’ he said, ‘I won’t press you for details. Particularly since as I said the last time we met I’ve no compelling desire to see my brother-in-law’s killer caught.’

  Jupiter, he was a cold bastard, this one! Me, under normal circumstances I’m all in favour of candour, but a brutal comment like that, especially delivered in the bloodless way Annius chose to do it, sent a chill down my spine.

  ‘That’s good of you,’ I said. ‘Much appreciated.’

  The slave came out with the chair, set it down, then returned for the wine-cup. I sipped. Graviscan again, and pretty good stuff, streets ahead of what my nosey pal in the wineshop served. Whatever faults Tullius had had, he’d kept a good cellar.

  ‘So,’ Annia said. ‘How can I help you this time?’

  ‘Ah … it’s a bit sensitive, lady,’ I said, glancing at Annius.

  ‘In that case’ – Annius had just sat down; now he stood up again – ‘I’ll go. If you’ll excuse me?’

  ‘Don’t be silly, Quintus!’ Annia pulled him down and looked at me. ‘Sensitive in what way? If you’ve learned something more about Gaius’s philanderings then it probably won’t come as news, let alone shock me. And I certainly won’t mind if my brother hears it.’

  ‘It’s not about your husband.’

  ‘Really?’ Then, when I still hesitated: ‘Oh, go on, Corvinus, please! I don’t have any secrets from Quintus. Definitely none I would be ashamed of if he knew them.’

  ‘OK, lady. The fact is I was told you were having an affair with Publius Poetelius.’

  She stared at me. Then she laughed. ‘Who on earth said that, for goodness’ sake?’

  ‘It isn’t true?’

  ‘Of course it’s not true! We’re friends. Just friends, and always have been. Again: who told you?’

  ‘Lucilius Festus’s wife, Marcia. She got it from your husband.’

  ‘But that’s ridiculous! Gaius would never have thought that!’

  I shrugged. ‘I’m only repeating what she said. And why should she make it up?’

  Now it was Annia’s turn to hesitate. She glanced at her brother, then looked back at me. ‘Actually, she might have had a reason,’ she said. ‘A good one. To her mind, at least.’

  ‘What would that be, now?’

&nbs
p; ‘I said I didn’t have any embarrassing secrets. That wasn’t quite true, although the secret isn’t a major one. The anonymous letter Marcia got, about Gaius taking up with a new girlfriend.’

  ‘You wrote it?’

  She nodded. ‘I sent Timon over to deliver it late the previous evening. After she and her husband had gone to bed.’

  Well, it came as no surprise; the chances were the letter had to have come from her or Poetelius. What was surprising was that she’d come straight out and admitted it.

  ‘You care to tell me why?’ I said.

  ‘I thought it might stir things up a bit. Precipitate matters. Perhaps push Gaius into agreeing to a divorce. A silly thing to do, I know that now in retrospect, but there you are. All I can say is that it seemed a good idea at the time.’

  Stir things up a bit. Certainly it’d done that, with a vengeance. And knowing for sure that Annia was responsible opened up a whole new line of possibilities. ‘So what you’re saying is that Marcia guessed who was responsible and was getting back at you?’

  ‘It would seem reasonable, wouldn’t it? In any event, it’s the only explanation.’

  I wouldn’t go quite that far myself. And I could think of at least one other purpose to the letter that was a lot less innocent. ‘Yeah. Yeah, fair enough,’ I said. I swallowed the rest of my wine and stood up. ‘Thanks, lady. I won’t take up any more of your time.’

  ‘But you haven’t told us how the investigation’s going! Surely you must’ve learned something concrete by now.’

  There wasn’t any reason not to tell her, quite the contrary, because if there was something screwy somewhere – and the feeling in my bones told me there was – starting up a decoy hare wouldn’t go amiss. ‘The chances are that Titus Vecilius did it,’ I said. ‘Hermia’s husband. Certainly he had the best motive and opportunity.’ I was watching her face for a telltale sign of relief. Not a flicker. But there again she’d taken the accusation of an affair with Poetelius in her stride, so that might mean nothing.

  ‘There you are,’ Annius said. ‘I told you, dear. An open-and-shut case.’

  ‘Uh-uh.’ I shook my head. ‘There’s the little matter of proof. Not to mention a few loose ends flapping around.’