‘Fine,’ I said. ‘Point taken, lady. Maybe it was a bit over the top, at that.’
‘Well, then!’
‘If we’re working through the suspects, what about the nephew?’ Marilla said. ‘Mettius, wasn’t it?’
‘Yeah.’ I picked up my wine cup and took a contemplative swallow. ‘He’s a distinct possible, too. If he’s on the level about his uncle and Caesius’s dodgy legal pal Novius cooking up the charge between them that got him relegated, then he’s got good reason to bear a grudge. Plus, of course, he’s only recently come back to the town, so the timing fits.’
‘That’s a bit odd in itself, isn’t it?’ Marilla said. ‘I mean, if it was me Bovillae would be the last place I’d choose to live, even when I could go back. He isn’t exactly popular locally, is he?’
I nodded. ‘Right. Oh, sure, from what I know his mother’s still there, but there’d be nothing else to bring him. Quite the reverse. So why take the trouble to come where he’s not wanted, unless he reckons he’s got unfinished business?’
‘Maybe he wanted to make his peace,’ Clarus said. ‘Bury the hatchet.’
‘From the impression I got, pal, the only place he’d want to do that was in his uncle’s head. With Novius for seconds. Which may well be what he did, more or less. The guy’s fully capable of it, if I’m any judge.’
‘But why should Caesius and Novius want to fabricate a charge against him in the first place?’ Marilla again.
I turned to Perilla. ‘You like to answer that one?’ I said easily.
She frowned. ‘Well, it’s obvious, isn’t it? At least, the simple explanation is. Lucius claimed his father’s will disinheriting him was a forgery. It was. Mettius was working for Novius at the time. He found out and tried to blackmail the guilty parties, so they got rid of him. And we all know, don’t we, from past experience, that Novius has been involved before in dubious practices concerning a will. Not directly, admittedly, and it was suppression rather than actual forgery, but still.’
I smiled to myself. It worked every time: give Perilla a chance to show how smart she is and she can’t resist it. Oh, it had taken a while on this occasion, sure, and it had been touch-and-go in places, but the lady had cracked in the end. It looked as if we had her with us on the team after all.
She was all right, Perilla, at base. Besides, I’d known that she knew the answer as well as I did.
‘Yeah,’ I said. ‘That’s more or less how I saw things. Proving it, mind, is another story, and Mettius himself isn’t saying. Which is fair enough if the blackmail side holds good.’
‘But why should he do it?’ Clarus said. ‘Novius, I mean. Surely he’d be taking a terrible risk? If the truth got out then he’d be facing criminal charges himself. Caesius, too. As with Manlius and Canidius, socially at least as far as Bovillae was concerned they’d both be finished.’
‘Sure they would,’ I said. ‘No arguments there, let alone explanations. Still, it’s a lead to be followed.’ I reached for the wine jug and poured myself more of the Alban. ‘Getting back to Mettius himself, though, there’s one more thing that makes him a prime contender.’
‘Which is?’
‘He’s the only one on the list, as far as we know, at least, definitely to patronize the brothel. That gives him opportunity in spades, even more so than Roscius and Lucius had. If Mettius was the killer, then it clears the ground of a lot of dead wood. He could’ve been there, on the inside, the night his uncle was killed and seen him leave. He could even have planned the murder in advance, if he knew Caesius would be a visitor.’
‘But surely that would mean the likelihood that the brothel owner was involved.’ Perilla was twisting her lock of hair. ‘Andromeda, wasn’t it? And if so then why should she be?’
‘Pass, lady,’ I said. ‘Another lead to follow. They’re friendly, sure — they were together at the funeral — but whether enough to warrant her helping out with a murder is as much your guess as mine. Also, it wouldn’t have been strictly necessary. Oh, sure, on her part there’s the professional confidentiality angle, but you can get round that, easy. She couldn’t be responsible for her staff, and if the girl I talked to was anything to go by they’re not the sharpest knives in the drawer. A word in the wrong place from one of them would’ve been enough. Still, it’s early days yet. There’s a lot of digging to do before we’re done.’ I looked round; Bathyllus and Lupercus had just come in. ‘Hi, little guy.’
‘We were just wondering if we could clear away, sir,’ Bathyllus said. ‘If you’re finished, that is.’
‘Sure. Go ahead.’ We waited while they loaded the dishes on to trays, studiously — I noticed — ignoring each other. Bathyllus removed my plate and Perilla’s; Lupercus did the same with Clarus’s and Marilla’s. The serving ones were carefully shared, turn about. I sighed: truce it might be, but it was an uneasy one, and well on the childish side at that. Fun, fun, fun.
‘There’s one person you haven’t mentioned, Marcus,’ Perilla said when they’d gone. ‘The antiques collector.’
‘Oh, yeah. Baebius,’ I said. ‘That’s because I still don’t know anything about him, barring what his freedman in the shop told me. I was planning to get his address tomorrow, pay him a visit, see how much in the running he actually is. Mind you, I’m not hopeful. The guy sounds like another Priscus. Can you imagine Priscus stalking a rival collector and beating his skull in? Because I can’t. Mother, now, sure.’
‘That’s not fair, dear. Vipsania’s a perfectly charming woman, even though she can be a little … overpowering at times.’ Overpowering! Me, I’d back Mother against a German berserker swinging a battle-axe any day. She’d probably insist he go back outside and wipe his feet. Get her way, too. ‘And you may be surprised. Not all collectors are as harmless as Priscus.’
Yeah, true. We’d just have to wait and see what tomorrow brought. In the meantime, I thought I deserved a quiet afternoon, maybe involving a stroll into town and a gossip with the punters at Pontius’s wine shop.
I was on holiday, after all. Sleuthing isn’t everything.
TEN
I had a leisurely breakfast the next morning before heading into Bovillae as usual. It wasn’t far, sure, but I don’t ride by choice, and covering the eight or so miles there and back was becoming a pretty tiresome routine.
I parked the horse by the market square water trough and set off gratefully on my own two feet. First things first: Baebius’s address. I called in at the antiques shop, renewed my acquaintance with the old freedman who ran it, and came away with directions: Baebius, it seemed, lived up at the top of town, near the Alban Lake Gate.
Before talking to the possibly homicidal antiquities collector, though, I wanted another word with Caesius’s major-domo, Anthus, regarding the death of his ex-mistress. Oh, the probability was that everything was above board — I’d only made the suggestion that it might not be to rattle Perilla’s cage, and the dead woman must’ve been getting on a bit — but it was worth making sure. Also, there was the question of the will to pursue.
So it was the Caesius place again first, further along the Hinge. The door slave showed me through to the atrium — the ordinary couches had been put back, now the funeral was over — and Anthus came in a couple of minutes later, wearing his squeaky-clean new freedman’s cap.
‘Good morning, sir,’ he said. ‘A pleasure to see you again. Presumably I can help you in some way?’
‘Yeah,’ I said. ‘I’m sorry to bother you again so soon, pal, but I needed some more information from you, if you can give it to me.’
‘Certainly. Although I’m afraid as far as the master’s death goes I can’t think what else I can tell you.’