He led me across to where Manlius was standing with my barber pal’s long drink of water, Canidius. They turned and smiled at me.
‘Marcus Valerius Corvinus, Marcus Manlius and Sextus Canidius,’ he said.
‘Pleased to meet you, Corvinus,’ Manlius said. Canidius gave me a benign nod. ‘We’re very grateful — I speak for the senate as a whole, of course — that you’re helping us over this business. Most embarrassing, most embarrassing! And I noticed that that woman from the brothel had the nerve to turn up. Very poor taste, that.’
‘You recognized her, then?’ I said.
He coloured. ‘I’ve … seen her, yes. Around and about in town.’
Uh-huh. There was a short, embarrassed silence that I wasn’t going to be the one to break. I just smiled and kept on smiling.
‘So,’ Canidius said finally. From close up he looked a bit like a fastidious ostrich getting ready to produce an egg. ‘How is the investigation going, exactly?’
‘Give the man a chance, Sextus!’ Nerva laughed. ‘He’s only just started!’
‘Not that we want to know too many of the sordid details, mind you,’ Manlius chuckled. ‘Leave poor old Quintus some shreds of his reputation intact, eh?’
I felt my teeth grit; between Mettius and these solid Bovillan citizens I’d take the foul-mouthed one any time. ‘As it happens,’ I said to Canidius, ‘the investigation’s going not too badly.’
‘Really?’ He beamed at me. ‘That is encouraging! Well done, you!’
‘Yeah. In fact, I’ve got a few promising leads already. This business with the burned-down wool store, for example.’ I was still smiling. ‘I understand you and Manlius here were directly concerned. I mean with the original contract, of course, not the burning itself. You like to fill me in on the background to that, while I’m here?’
I could feel the temperature plummet like the slate from a tenement roof. The smiles vanished, and the looks I got from Bovillae’s two serving magistrates would’ve skewered a rhino.
‘That has nothing whatsoever to do with Caesius’s death!’ Canidius snapped. ‘It was a complete accident, and it happened six months ago!’
I’d kept my own smile going. ‘Even so,’ I said, ‘and correct me if I’m wrong — when he took up office as censor in January he was going to set up an enquiry, wasn’t he? And that won’t be happening now. Or will it?’
I was still getting the glares, but they were silent ones.
‘That has yet to be decided, Corvinus,’ Nerva said. ‘By the senate as a body.’
‘Not by the new censor? I was sort of assuming there’d be a new election.’
‘Of course, naturally there will be, but …’
‘And from what I’m told, Manlius here is likely to be the lucky replacement, right?’
The aedile’s glare went up a notch. ‘Only if the citizens of Bovillae elect me as such,’ he said stiffly. ‘Which would be the outcome of due democratic process.’
‘Yeah. Right,’ I said. ‘Naturally, so it would, at that. I’m sorry. And of course there’ll be other candidates, won’t there?’
‘That is up to any interested parties to decide for themselves!’
I nodded. ‘Sure. Sure. My apologies again. Well, we’ll just have to wait and see what happens, won’t we?’
‘You will not, Corvinus,’ Canidius said sharply. ‘You’re not a citizen of Bovillae, only a visitor. You’ll be long gone.’
‘Assuming I’ve cleared up this little problem for you by then.’
‘Oh, I’m convinced you’ll’ve done that, my dear fellow!’ Nerva beamed at me, after shooting Canidius a sideways look. ‘Don’t be so modest. Quintus Libanius over in Castrimoenium tells me he has every confidence in your abilities.’
‘Well, I’ll certainly do my very best in that direction, sir. We’ll get there eventually, don’t you worry. Wherever there happens to be.’ I gave him a corresponding beam of my own. ‘Now if you’ll excuse me, I must be getting back home. Delighted to have met you, gentlemen. A real honour.’
I turned and walked away, feeling their eyes boring into my shoulder blades. I’d enjoyed that little exchange. Like I said, I’d take Mettius over those two smarmy buggers any day of the month.
The flames were dying down, and the undertakers’ men were beginning to move in, pulling the pyre apart at its edges with hooked poles so that it collapsed completely in a flurry of burning wood and sparks. Enough for today; I reckoned I’d done pretty well, all told. At least it was a start. And I could consider Manlius’s and Canidius’s cages well and truly rattled.
Home.
SIX
I got back just a smidgeon late for dinner, which with Clarus and Marilla’s chef Euclidus running things as opposed to the ultra-picky Meton was no big deal for a change. Euclidus might not be anything like Meton’s class, but at least you didn’t get the five-star tantrum and the three-day sulk if you weren’t exactly on time for a meal. As it was, the slaves had just ferried in the plates and the range of starters, so we hadn’t missed anything important. I lay down on the couch next to Perilla, filled my wine cup, and helped myself to a selection.
‘So how did you get on, dear?’ she said when I was firmly ensconced. ‘Successful first day?’
‘It was OK,’ I said, reaching for the snails in oil and oregano. ‘In fact, pretty good, all told.’ While we worked our way through the nibbles, I gave the three of them — Clarus and Marilla were sharing one of the other two couches — the basic run-down of events. ‘It’s a lot too early for any definite theories yet, sure, but at least the leads and the list of possible perps are firming up nicely. Pillar of the community and solid citizen the guy might have been, but he was obviously a lot less than popular in some quarters. And getting himself murdered less than a month before he was due to take up office when he’d promised to look into a fire in the town’s wool store is a tad too coincidental for comfort.’
Clarus was helping himself to the haricot bean purée. ‘I’d heard about that,’ he said. ‘It was a real scandal at the time. Rumour was that Manlius had shifted a lot of the bales elsewhere beforehand, sold them off privately, and started the fire himself to cover things up.’
‘Yeah,’ I said. ‘That much I got at the wine shop. Mind you, that’s par for the course. A warehouse fire’s a conspiracy-theory godsend to your wine-shop punter, particularly when a public figure’s involved. Me, I’d’ve been surprised if there hadn’t been rumours.’
‘Wouldn’t something like that be noticed?’ Perilla said.
‘Oh, no.’ Marilla shelled a quail’s egg and dipped it in the fish sauce. ‘Or at least it probably wouldn’t. Once the shearing was over there’d be no need for anyone to go into the place, would there? Not until the fleeces were sold, anyway. And scams like that go on all the time.’
‘How interesting. Do they really, dear?’ Perilla said quietly. She had her prim look on. ‘And how would you know, now?’
Uh-oh.
‘Corvinus?’ Marilla grinned at me. ‘I am right, aren’t I? They do.’
Uh-oh was right: straight in with both feet. A lovely girl in many ways, our adopted daughter, but sometimes she was as sen-sitive to the nuances as a brick. I glanced sideways at Perilla. Her lips were set in a disapproving line: it was OK for me to play the sleuth, but the lady had her standards where Marilla was concerned. We might be in for a few squalls here. Time for a bit of tact. ‘Yeah, well, Princess,’ I said. ‘Maybe so. But so far it’s just that — no more than a rumour. Oh, sure, Manlius and his pal Canidius might well be as bent as a couple of tin sesterces, in which case it may be relevant, but I’m suspending judgement at present.’
‘I’d take the whole thing with a pinch of salt myself, Corvinus,’ Clarus said. ‘From what I’ve heard, those two may have an eye out for the main chance, but they’re no worse than your average local politician, and even if they were it doesn’t make them potential murderers, does it? Besides-’