‘But, Marcus, that doesn’t make any sense.’
‘Oh? Why not?’
‘First of all, Tullius would have to be a complete fool to go anywhere near Vecilius’s wife, particularly since he knew that Vecilius knew about the affair. Secondly, how would Vecilius have got him into the shrine? Tullius would’ve known that to agree to a private encounter off the beaten track would be simply asking for trouble.’
‘You got a better suggestion?’
‘No, but-’
‘Then clam up. Look. The scenario’s simple. Vecilius has spent the morning shifting the booze in the local wineshop and sounding off about his wife’s lover. He gets thrown out and on his way home he sees Tullius near Melobosis Alley.’ Then, when she opened her mouth to protest: ‘OK; maybe he was a complete fool. The point is he was there, whether you like it or not, and the logical assumption – which would be Vecilius’s as well – is that the guy was tomcatting. Vecilius straight-arms him, takes him to the shrine for a private word, there’s a frank exchange of views, and Tullius ends up stiffed. Vecilius goes back to the wineshop and gets properly stewed. Now me, I can’t see what the problem is here.’
‘All right.’ Perilla sniffed. ‘Have it your own way. Only it is a little obvious, isn’t it?’
‘Jupiter and all the gods, lady!’
‘Yes, I know. But let’s assume for the sake of argument that Vecilius wasn’t the killer. What else have you got? What about the other outraged husband? You spoke to him, too, yes?’
‘Sure. Lucilius Festus. He seemed pretty straight.’
‘Could he have done it? In terms of opportunity, I mean?’
‘Maybe. I had a talk with the local Watch Commander, and the body could’ve lain there the whole day, so we’ve no time slot. Festus claimed he took a couple of hours off in the afternoon to go to the Temple of Mercury.’
‘And did he?’
‘Possibly. But my chances of checking are zilch, because half the merchants and tradesmen in Rome were paying their respects that day. The place would’ve been heaving.’
‘What was he like as a person?’
‘I said: he seemed pretty straight, solid family type. Not the murdering kind. That was Watch Commander Memmius’s view, too.’
‘Hmm.’ Perilla was twisting a strand of her hair. ‘Perhaps all the more reason, then, if he’d found out Tullius had seduced his wife. How long had he known, by the way?’
‘Seemingly Marcia – that’s the wife – got an anonymous letter shoved under the door the day before the murder, and he’d intercepted it. The day he and Vecilius went round to alter the guy’s face for him at his office, in other words.’ I told her the story. ‘Me, I don’t think we need look far for the person who sent it. Annia told me she knew the two women’s names, and if she was pushing for a divorce – which she was – then stirring things might’ve seemed a good idea.’
‘Or it might have been Poetelius.’
‘What?’
Perilla shrugged. ‘It’s just as possible, in practical terms. He knew the situation as well. And he knew where Festus and Marcia lived. Did Annia know that?’
‘Why the hell would Poetelius want to blow the whistle on Tullius? Particularly since it’d set two of the company’s suppliers at a partner’s throat.’
‘I don’t know, dear. I only said it was a possibility, which it is. Who else did you talk to?’
‘Titus Vibius. The supplier Festus replaced.’
‘Anything there?’
I frowned. ‘Maybe. He hated Tullius, that was for sure, and in the way of business that made sense, because the bastard nearly bankrupted him.’ I told her about the cancelled contract. ‘Even so, and even if that were a good enough reason in itself for murder, which I doubt, the timing’d be all wrong. After all, it was past history, over a year ago, and the guy’s business is more or less back on an even keel these days.’
‘Does he have a wife?’
I shot her a glance. ‘No. He’s a widower. He has a daughter, sure, a real looker. I wondered about her at the time, but I doubt if she’s a factor.’
‘Why so?’
‘Because it wouldn’t fit the pattern. She’s barely more than a kid, and from what we know of Tullius’s tomcatting activities he went for older, married women. Besides, like I said, there’s the question of timing.’
‘It’s another possibility, though, isn’t it?’ She was still twisting the lock of hair. ‘Myself, I’d like to know how long Vibius’s wife has been dead. And how she died.’
I stared at her; gods, the lady had a more suspicious mind than I did. Fortunately. ‘Uh … good point,’ I said. ‘Well done. OK, filed for reference.’
‘So what are your plans now?’
‘I’ll try to have a word with the two wives, see what they have to say. Vecilius’s Hermia’ll be tricky, sure, because the house is bang next door to the workshop and I can’t see chummie being too cooperative, or too friendly if he knows I’m calling. Marcia’s easier: she’s gone off to her mother’s near the Capenan Gate, or she probably has. And there’s the Ostia side of things to check out as well. Lots to be going on with.’ I took a swallow of the wine. ‘So. How are things on the domestic front? Any developments in the Petillius saga?’
‘Absolutely none. I passed Tyndaris in the street this morning and got a frozen glare. Oh, and according to Bathyllus the household had a visit afterwards from a monumental sculptor. I suspect the next stage will be a small tomb in the garden.’
Fuck. The gods save me from OTT cat-lovers. Well, if the silly beggars wanted to throw their money around that was their concern. We’d just have to keep our heads below the parapet and hope things calmed down.
‘Well, if we’re lucky the whole thing will just-’ I stopped; I’d heard the front door and the sound of footsteps crossing the lobby.
The kids were back. I took a deep breath and a hefty gulp of wine; chances were I was going to need it.
‘Hi.’ Marilla came in, with Clarus in tow. ‘What time’s dinner? We’re starving.’
‘Another hour, I’m afraid, dear,’ Perilla said.
‘Marcus been good?’ She grinned at me as she lay down on the third couch. ‘The small one, I mean.’
‘Good as gold. He’s upstairs with Mysta, being changed. I think he’s cutting his first tooth.’
‘Yes, he is dribbling a lot.’
‘So where did you go?’
‘The Saepta.’ Clarus settled down beside Marilla. ‘Shopping.’
I winced; no wonder the guy was looking frayed round the edges. With two-and-a-half years of marriage under his belt, I’d’ve thought he would have developed shopping-avoidance strategies by now – after all, they’re among the most essential survival skills for husbands – but evidently not. Still, living down in the Alban Hills he wouldn’t’ve had the practice.
‘Marilla, you should have told me!’ Perilla said. ‘I’d’ve come with you.’
‘It was only an afterthought.’ Marilla looked round: Bathyllus had come up on her blind side, touting for orders. ‘Oh. Some fruit juice, please, Bathyllus. And if dinner’s going to be another hour, could you bring me a cheese roll? Or make it two. With a slice of ham and some pickles.’
‘Certainly, madam.’ He looked at Clarus. ‘Sir?’
‘Wine, Bathyllus. Just wine.’
I grinned. He was no great wine drinker, our Clarus; the shopping trip had obviously been Fraught.
‘I’ll have a top-up, too, little guy,’ I said, draining my cup and handing it to him. ‘Perilla?’
‘No, not for me.’
Bathyllus went out.
‘We’d actually intended to go up to Sallust Gardens, which we did,’ Marilla said. ‘But coming back we got a bit side-tracked. Still, it was only a sort of preliminary reconnaissance. I didn’t buy much, and we can easily go again tomorrow.’
I didn’t even look at Clarus.
‘That’d be marvellous, dear,’ Perilla said. ‘We’ll make a whole day of it. There are two new shops off Augustus Square you won’t know about that are well worth a look.’