She stretched out a hand, surveying her manicure, which looked professional. She said there had been a row last night. It was a common occurrence in their house, she admitted. ‘Mind you, yesterday set a new standard.’
‘Why was that?’
Julia surveyed me down a long sharp nose and this time decided she would rebuff me. Was it caution or bloody-mindedness? ‘Mind your own business!’ she snapped.
This was my business. ‘The three men seemed to be of one accord at the auction. I assume they had prearranged for their agent to bid. At that point there must have been consensus; did something happen afterwards so they changed their minds?’
‘First they wanted it, now they can’t bear the sight of it. Who knows, with men?’
‘Julia Laurentina, I would normally agree with you – but this sudden alteration seems odd, even allowing for male perverseness.’
The woman gave me a nasty look. ‘I don’t think you should come into our house, calling my husband perverse!’
No, she was the perverse one, suddenly defending him. I kept my temper, in case I could still squeeze any information out of her. ‘Please believe I have no intention of causing offence. I am only trying to find out what happened and what your family members want us to do with the strongbox.’
‘That bloody strongbox!’
‘So?’
‘Do what you like with it.’
I could see Julia knew enough about the quarrel to be thoroughly exasperated by whatever had occurred last night. But I acted all innocence and explained, ‘You may not know, the strongbox has a history.’
‘I know you auction people say you found a body in it.’
Say? ‘We did, madam. I saw the poor man myself. That was a ghastly experience.’
She stared. She sat up straighter and blurted out, ‘What did he look like?’
The interview swung. It was as if she was keenly interrogating me. ‘In his fifties, well built, wearing a blue tunic.’
‘His fifties?’
‘I could hardly look at the body. I thought him a little younger; the funeral director said he had lived well and taken care of himself, so he put the man between fifty and sixty. I have used that firm before, so I trust the verdict.’
‘No clues as to who the victim was?’ Julia Laurentina sounded merely curious, yet I suspected there was more to it.
‘Any clues had been carefully removed – he had on an ordinary wedding ring that is impossible to trace, but there were clear signs that he once wore a signet ring that someone had taken off, no doubt his killers to prevent it being identified.’ I did not bother to ask why Julia was interested; she would never tell me. I was watching her instead. She was posing, acting casual, though I glimpsed some dark mood. Without undue emphasis, I asked, ‘Do you recognise the description? I don’t suppose anyone like that is missing from among the people you know?’
Julia stared again. ‘No,’ she said. Then she repeated, ‘No. No one.’
‘Are you sure?’ I had detected unease. She nodded so quickly, it seemed unwise to press her.
While she looked introspective for a moment, I zapped in a few extra questions quietly: ‘Do you know Niger, the agent?’
‘I have never seen or spoken to him, but he came on the recommendation of one of my sisters.’
‘She knows him?’
‘He acted for her husband and now her.’
‘Why did your menfolk want him to back down over the bid?’
‘My husband says we have no need of a beaten-up, burned-out old chest; that was the whole point of trying to get rid of it at auction. Against him, Primus lost his temper and said he wants no more to do with it but he isn’t going to let strangers get their hands on it. His brother Secundus thought Niger paid too much.’
‘Bidding was brisk.’ I thought it best not to say I had been the auctioneer. She would have recoiled, just like the wife of Niger. I didn’t suppose the wives of Primus and Secundus concerned themselves with the river-transport business that brought in the cash for their finery. Julia Laurentina’s husband owned a boat-building yard, but she had probably never been there. I was sure none of those women could recognise their boat captains, let alone understand a lading docket. That would not have done in my family. ‘Niger had been instructed to buy the chest. If he had stopped bidding too soon, he would have lost it,’ I said. ‘He paid enough, though not over the odds, in my opinion.’
Julia said nothing.
‘Since there was other interest,’ I mentioned coolly, ‘we intend to approach the underbidder and see if he still wants it.’
‘Well.’
Well what? I raised my eyebrows. Mine were rather nicely shaped. The talented brow-girl at Prisca’s Baths could even do it painlessly. Well, not quite, but she was better than the usual damage-wreakers.
Julia had had her brows plucked into thin arches; I always find that artificial. It must have hurt, but she seemed a woman who would not acknowledge pain.
‘My husband is right for once. That strongbox has been used for something terrible, and we can do without it.’ She shrugged it off, her gesture too exaggerated. She was unused to acting. I suppose she normally flared up and said whatever she wanted, then people backed away. I was a different commodity: she could not handle me.
‘I just don’t understand the change of heart here,’ I persisted. ‘I was told the strongbox would be privately bought back, then burned to prevent ghoulish interest. An act of respect, Niger the agent called it. Piety towards the dead man … whoever he was.’
‘You seem to do far too much talking to other people’s agents!’
‘I belong to the auction house,’ I told Julia gently. ‘Talking to agents happens all the time. It is also good business practice for us to make enquiries when items seem odd, or people’s behaviour feels wrong.’
Julia got a grip. ‘Well, you must do your job,’ she answered me, equally quietly.
The uncharacteristic restraint was fascinating. I would have expected sarcasm. This woman can rarely in her life have chosen to show so much control. Julia Laurentina was secretly fascinated by the corpse. I was sure she had heard her menfolk discussing it. Might they know who the dead man was?
Julia, I felt, had not been told his identity, hence her questions about his appearance. But she was harbouring suspicions. With the Callistus brothers and her husband, did she hide her curiosity? Was she trying to find out for herself what had happened, perhaps before confronting them?
Whatever the truth, Julia Laurentina was visibly anxious. She hardly gave the impression of a woman who was perturbed by family troubles. Yet it seemed to me the identity of that dead man and what had happened to him mattered more to Julia Laurentina than she would admit.
She dismissed me. I was surprised she had found the patience to let me stay for so long. It only confirmed her private interest in the strongbox corpse.
As I left the room, a young girl entered. About thirteen, she was not introduced. After the doors closed behind me I heard a low murmur of female voices. The talk sounded subdued, as if the speakers were discussing me. In my business, that is something you expect. It seemed friendly enough in tone.
I asked the porter if that was Julia Laurentina’s daughter. He said no, she belonged to Callistus Primus, his only child with a first wife, long divorced; her name was Julia Valentina. She lived with her father. He wanted to bring her up himself.
That was unusual, but fathers had a legal claim to their children after marital separation so it happened. Some men were determined to exert their right of possession, even of a daughter, even if the child was very young. I sometimes had to help divorced mothers argue for custody.
I also asked the man about the advertising notice outside. He said the family owned the wall space; they had supported Volusius Firmus for aedile, the candidate who was forced to stand down. So removing the notice made sense.