Manlius was looking green. Canidius was just … looking.
‘Corvinus,’ Manlius said, ‘I swear-’
Canidius put a hand on his arm. He hadn’t taken his eyes off me. ‘So how much do you want?’ he said.
‘Wrong question, pal. Wrong attitude.’
‘No one was hurt in the fire. There wasn’t even any other property damage. We made sure of that.’
‘True. And that makes it OK, does it?’ I uncrossed my legs. ‘Look. I’ll level with you here. My mandate’s just to find out who killed Quintus Caesius. That still stands, and to be honest the fact that the guy had promised an investigation when he took up office puts you two well and truly in the frame.’ Manlius started to say something, but another touch on the arm from his pal made him clam up. ‘Now it could be that you’re just another couple of crooked politicians on the make, so where the actual scam’s concerned I’m willing to cut you a bit of slack. Option one: I take what I know to, say, an outsider member of the senate such as Silius Nerva and let him deal with it as he sees fit.’ Manlius blanched, but said nothing. ‘Option two: well, you must’ve turned a pretty substantial profit out of all this, while the town’s out a season’s wool plus one of the communal buildings. Maybe it’d be a nice gesture if two of their solid citizens made it up to them. Say by offering to pay out of their own pockets for a snazzy new public meeting-hall with all the trimmings on the empty site. Plus rebuilding the warehouse elsewhere, of course.’
‘That would cost a small fortune!’ Canidius snapped. ‘Far more than double what we …’ He caught himself, and his lips formed a tight line. ‘This is sheer blackmail!’
‘Suit yourself, pal,’ I said. ‘Like I told you, it’s only one of the options on offer. Choose the other one if you prefer.’
He and Manlius exchanged a look.
‘We’ll consider it,’ Canidius said, through gritted teeth.
‘The offer’s limited as far as time goes, so don’t take too long, will you? Let’s say until the festival, max?’ I smiled. ‘Fine. That’s got that out of the way. Now. Alibis.’
‘What?’ Manlius goggled.
‘For the night Caesius was killed. I told you, you’re both in the frame for the murder, together and separately.’
‘Corvinus, this is an insult,’ Canidius said softly. ‘We had nothing to do with Quintus Caesius’s death.’
‘OK,’ I said. ‘Prove it.’
Again, the exchanged glance. ‘As it happens,’ Canidius said, ‘we were together, here. We’d been discussing some town business until late in the afternoon and hadn’t finished. Marcus invited me to stay to a working dinner. As a result, I didn’t leave until almost midnight.’
‘That’s right.’ Manlius nodded violently.
‘Uh-huh,’ I said, and stood up. ‘Convenient. Well, thank you, gentlemen, it’s been very instructive. I’ll see you around.’
I could feel their eyes on me all the way to the door.
Rod had gone, but the major-domo was still in the atrium filling the lamps.
‘Uh … Flavus, wasn’t it?’ I said.
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Just a question, pal. Silly, but still. When Sextus Canidius had dinner here six days ago what did you serve for the main course? You remember that, by any chance?’
He frowned. ‘But Master Canidius didn’t stay for dinner that evening, sir,’ he said. ‘He left about an hour before sunset.’
‘Ah. Right. My mistake. No problem, it doesn’t matter.’
‘I’ll see you out, sir.’
I glanced up at the sun. Still a fair bit of the day left, and the weather wasn’t looking too bad. I’d time for that chat with Anthus about old Marcus Caesius. It shouldn’t take long — Caesius’s house was only a couple of hundred yards down the road towards the gate — and I could still be back home well before dinner.
Things were shaping up nicely.
THIRTEEN
‘Back again, Valerius Corvinus?’ Anthus said when he joined me in the atrium. ‘You’re becoming a regular visitor.’
‘So it seems,’ I said. Interesting how freedom and the right to wear a freedman’s cap affects behaviour: the old guy was much more relaxed, much chattier now than he had been when I’d first met him as a slave, even though that had only been a couple of days before. It’s very easy to forget that the bought help are people, too, with their own thoughts and feelings. Too easy, maybe.
Mind you, I couldn’t quite see him behind the counter of a baker’s shop, hefting trays of rolls and passing the time of day with some chatty housewife over her morning Campanian Cob. That didn’t really seem the guy’s bag, somehow. Still, if he’d taken up with a baker’s widow in the first place he must have another facet to his personality, so maybe it wouldn’t be an issue.
‘Did you talk to Lucius Ampudius?’ he said. ‘About the old master’s will?’
‘Yeah. He was very helpful, and like you said everything seems to be above board there. No problems.’
‘Then why this visit, sir?’
‘I was just wondering if you could tell me a bit more about the old man himself.’
Anthus gave me a puzzled look. ‘I scarcely see why that should be relevant to the master’s murder,’ he said. ‘Particularly since Master Marcus has been dead for eleven years now.’
‘Maybe not. Still, there is a chance that there’s a connection. If you can fill in a few gaps for me I’d be very grateful.’
‘Then of course I’ll give you any information I can. Ask away.’
‘You were major-domo here when he was alive, right?’
‘Yes, sir. Of course. I’ve held the post for over thirty years now, and I’d been with the family all my life before that. In fact, I was born in this house.’
‘According to Ampudius he was, uh, failing mentally and physically in his latter years. Including the time he made the will disinheriting his son.’
‘Oh, no, sir. You must have misunderstood. As Lucius Ampudius will have told you, I expect, he was certainly showing some signs of frailty, both physical and mental, when he made the will, but he was in complete command of his faculties, at least where his powers of judgement were concerned. The real decline set in later, a year or two before his death, and it was very rapid, particularly in the final months.’
Yeah, well, that chimed with what Ampudius had said, right enough. Bugger. Still …
‘At the time he made the will, your master Quintus Caesius was managing the family’s business interests, is that so?’
‘Yes, sir. At the old master’s specific request. The interests were fairly widespread, and at times rather complicated. He was an intelligent man, Valerius Corvinus; he knew he was failing and he was unsure how far he could trust himself where matters of finance were concerned. Also, naturally, by that time Master Quintus was in his prime and an excellent, experienced man of business in his own right. Old Master Marcus decided that things were better left in his hands completely, and he never had cause to regret his decision.’
‘Uh-huh. Ah … Lucius Ampudius also said that your master eventually had his father certified. That true?’
‘Yes, indeed he did. Rightly so. He postponed things as long as he could, but in the end, regrettably, he had no choice; in fact, if anything he left it too late. As I said, the old master’s eventual decline was very rapid; in his final year he was unable to perform even the most basic of physical functions without help, and his mind had almost completely gone. The power of attorney which Master Quintus had been exercising for several years previously was only ever an ad hoc arrangement; it had no legal basis. By that time, of course, it was impossible to set it on a legal footing because old Master Marcus was beyond completing the paperwork involved, or even understanding what was required of him. So to avoid any possible legal complications my master’s lawyer Publius Novius advised formal certifying. It was only a technicality, making no difference whatever to the existing situation, and as I say the old master died shortly afterwards.’ He gave me a straight look. ‘There was nothing there, Valerius Corvinus, which should arouse your suspicions, should you be entertaining any. Everything my master did, he did reluctantly, as a last resort, and for the most honourable reasons. He was the most excellent of men.’