‘What about the figurine?’ I said.
Carillus frowned. ‘What figurine, sir?’
‘The little bronze Caesius had with him. The runner.’ He was still looking blank. ‘Aulus Mettius didn’t take it?’
‘He picked something up from beside the body and put it in his cloak pocket, sir. But I didn’t see what it was.’
‘Never mind, pal. It doesn’t matter.’ Sure it mattered: it had killed him, and Andromeda too. But Carillus didn’t need to know that. I stood up. ‘Thanks. Oh, one more thing. Dossenus. Your mistress — or Mettius, possibly — warned him against talking, right?’
‘Yes. It was hardly necessary, because as I said he was frightened out of his wits, or what he has of them. But Mettius told him that if the news got out that Caesius had died inside the wool store he would be the obvious suspect. That was quite enough.’
Yeah, I thought grimly, it would be: when he’d talked to me as the guy officially empowered to point the final finger the poor bugger had desperately wanted to make it absolutely clear that he hadn’t been involved. It did mean, though, that we had another witness to what happened, if we needed one. And he might just have seen the murder, after all, which would be a definite plus.
Which brought me to the next part, the nasty bit. I’d have to pay a call on Silius Nerva, explain the situation, borrow a couple of the town’s rod men for muscle, and then confront the murderer.
Not a job for the day before the start of the Winter Festival, but it had to be done.
I knocked on the front door, and Baebius’s young slave opened it. He frowned when he saw the two rod men — one of them, by an ironic twist of fate, was Manlius’s pal Decimus — but said nothing.
‘You think we could see the master?’ I said.
‘Yes, sir. Of course.’ He stepped aside. ‘He’s in the study. If you wouldn’t mind waiting, I’ll-’
‘No, that’s OK. We’ll go straight through.’
The frown deepened. He opened his mouth to speak, but then obviously thought better of it.
‘As you wish, sir.’
He led us through the atrium, stopped outside a panelled door, and knocked.
‘Come in.’
‘That’s fine, pal,’ I said before the slave could open the door. ‘We can take it from here. Just leave us in private, right?’
He gave me a scared, sideways look and went back down the corridor.
I went in. Baebius was sitting at his desk, writing. His eyes narrowed when he saw the rod men, and he put the pen down.
‘Corvinus,’ he said. ‘This is a surprise. And why the lictors? I didn’t know you’d been promoted to aedile.’
‘They’re just helping out,’ I said. ‘Forget they’re here.’
‘Rather difficult, but I’ll do my best.’ He sat back. ‘Well, no matter. What can I do for you?’
‘Let’s start with the bronze,’ I said. ‘The Runner. You have got it, haven’t you?’
He stared at me, his face expressionless. Then he stood up, went across to a cupboard in the wall and opened it.
‘There you are,’ he said, taking out the figurine inside and holding it up. ‘I’m sorry for lying to you, but you can understand why I did it. If I’d admitted that Caesius had actually turned up for our rendezvous it might have placed me in a very difficult situation.’
‘So you had it all the time?’
‘Yes, of course. I said: the agreement was that Caesius would exchange it for a similar piece plus a sum of money. Everything happened as I told you, except for the fact that the exchange was made after all.’
‘In that case, what happened to the replacement and the cash?’
‘I’ve no idea. He certainly had both when he left me. Presumably they were taken from him by whoever killed him.’
‘Behind the brothel.’
‘Naturally. Or inside it, or wherever.’
‘There’s only one problem with that, pal,’ I said. ‘Caesius wasn’t killed behind the brothel. He didn’t go near the place. He was killed where you met him, at the wool store. And he was killed much earlier than everyone believed, around sunset, at the time you said you were meeting him.’
The silence lengthened, and I heard the two rod men shifting their weight behind me. Baebius glanced at them, moved back to the desk, carefully set the figurine down, and resumed his seat.
‘Is that so, now?’ he said.
‘You want to tell me what actually happened? Or shall I tell you?’
‘Go ahead. I’d be most interested.’
There was a stool next to the desk. I pulled it up and sat down.
‘Fine,’ I said. ‘First of all, there was no exchange. Or at least, you never got your hands on the bronze. Not then, anyway.’
‘So when did I, if I have it now?’
‘My guess is that you set the meeting up intending to kill Caesius from the start. Only when you’d done it something went wrong. You found that you were being watched, by the vagrant who sleeps there, a guy by the name of Dossenus. So you panicked and ran, leaving the bronze behind.’
‘Corvinus, please! The thing’s worth, what, twenty thousand sesterces, yes? A large amount of money, agreed, but I’m a wealthy man with a position to think of, and beautiful though it is, it’s scarcely a unique piece. I’m hardly likely to plan and commit a murder for a trivial reason like that, am I?’
‘Yeah, well,’ I said. ‘As far as motive’s concerned, we’ll leave that side of it for now. But that’s the way it happened; like I said, there was a witness who saw the whole thing.’ I gave him the lie straight, without blinking — it might even be true. ‘Anyway, Dossenus goes to Opilia Andromeda and tells her the whole story. Her boyfriend Mettius, who’s spending the night in her flat, picks up the body and takes it inside, together with the statuette. Then, sometime over the next couple of days, being the crook he is and having no particular reason to see his uncle’s killer brought to justice, he decides to do a bit of business on his own account. Just for the fun of it rather than the actual profit, although where Andromeda’s concerned the cash’ll be very welcome. He comes to you, tells you he knows what you’ve done, and promises to keep his mouth shut for an appreciable consideration. He’s an honest crook, though, as crooks go, and not a proper thief per se, so he says he’ll throw in the Runner as a gesture of good faith. You agree to meet him in the pine grove above his villa to complete the deal. I’m not sure about this bit, but the chances are that Andromeda was waiting close by, to see how things turned out, and she was the one to find her boyfriend’s body, well before Quintus Roscius happened along.’ Baebius hadn’t moved, or reacted in any way since he’d last spoken, but now he smiled. ‘Anyway, when Mettius turns up carrying the bronze to fulfil his part of the bargain you kill him instead. Then, the following night, just to make sure your secret’s safe, you go to his girlfriend’s flat above the brothel and kill her as well.’ I paused. ‘OK. So how am I doing?’
‘It wasn’t murder,’ he said quietly. ‘Not the first death. You were wrong about that. Caesius’s death was an accident.’
Joy in the morning!
‘Fine,’ I said. ‘You want to tell me?’
‘Why not? You have most of it. You may as well get your facts right. And I’m no killer, not by nature. Mettius and the woman — well, they were necessary. Besides, as you say, one was a crook and the other was a whore.’
Delivery cold as hell. If I’d had any sympathy for him — which I didn’t, really — that’s when it would’ve vanished.
Baebius picked up the statuette and turned it over in his hands. He didn’t look at me.
‘I was in Rome halfway through last month,’ he said. ‘There was a new club I’d heard of which had recently opened, and I wanted to look it over. A gentleman’s club, very private, very expensive.’