‘Hi, Corvinus. Perilla,’ he said when he came in. ‘Sorry, I got held up. Old Theo got to reminiscing. Not late, am I?’
‘No, no, you’re fine, pal,’ I said. ‘Meton and next door’s chef had a contretemps involving a melon, so things are a bit behind.’
He frowned. ‘What?’
‘Perilla’ll explain.’
Bathyllus shimmied in. ‘The chef says to inform you that dinner is ready whenever you are, sir. Finally.’
‘I’ll go and tell Marilla, Marcus,’ Perilla said. ‘You and Clarus go straight through.’
She went upstairs.
‘“Theo”?’ I said to Clarus.
He was looking shifty. ‘Aemilius Theodorus,’ he said. ‘A friend of Dad’s. I thought I’d look him up while we were here. While the women were off shopping.’
‘Yeah. Right.’ I waited. ‘So, uh, where were you really?’
He grinned. ‘I went back to the Pollio. I said: they’ve got a lot of stuff by Erasistratus there, and I didn’t have time to see all of it I wanted.’
‘Nothing to do with the guy who was stabbed? Marcus Correllius?’
He gave me a look of genuine puzzlement. ‘No, of course not! Why the hell should it be?’
Right; right: we moved in different worlds, Clarus and me, except when they overlapped occasionally. And I knew it wouldn’t’ve been a wineshop.
I turned to Bathyllus, who was still hovering.
‘The dessert isn’t pear compote, is it, sunshine?’ I said.
‘No.’ He sniffed. ‘Pear compote will not be featuring this evening, sir.’
‘How about slightly damaged melon?’
Not a flicker: Bathyllus moved in a different world as well, and humour played a very small part in it.
‘Not that either,’ he said. ‘I understand Meton has decided on a preserved fruit and honey pudding.’
Well, no doubt things would get back to normal when our socially disadvantaged chef had repaired his bridges with the local suppliers. Or just found one who didn’t mind him using their produce as an offensive weapon.
‘Fine,’ I said.
We went through.
TEN
I called in at Poetelius’s office first thing the next morning.
‘Corvinus!’ The guy was sitting behind his desk slaving over a hot abacus and a pile of wax tablets. ‘How’s the investigation going? Any progress?’
‘Yeah,’ I said. ‘We’re getting there.’
‘Good.’ He smiled. ‘So what can I do for you?’
I pulled up the stool and sat down. ‘For a start, pal, you can tell me what you were doing in Trigemina Gate Street the day your partner was murdered. And why you didn’t feel obliged to mention being there the last time we talked.’
The smile faded. ‘Ah.’
‘“Ah” is right.’
His fingers drummed on the desk. ‘Titus Vibius told you, presumably?’
‘Vibius? Why Vibius?’
‘Because it was him I went to see, of course.’
‘There’s no “of course” about it. Maybe you’d better give me the whys and wherefores from the beginning.’
‘All right.’ He took a deep breath. ‘I told you: Vibius supplied most of our pottery prior to Festus, and he was much better all round. Not renewing his contract was Gaius’s idea, not mine, quite the contrary. When Festus came here the day before threatening to punch Gaius’s lights out I naturally assumed the business association was at an end, and that therefore we would be looking for a new supplier. Going back to Vibius – if he was willing, after the shabby way Gaius treated him – was the obvious solution, and I decided to sound him out. Coincidentally, the next day was a holiday, the office would be closed, and so I wouldn’t have to explain my unaccustomed absence to Gaius.’ He smiled. ‘Or rather to invent a story explaining it, because as you can imagine I didn’t want it to appear that I was going over his head.’
‘So why didn’t you tell me this in the first place?’
‘Would you have, if you’d been me?’ he said simply. ‘When I knew where Gaius’s body had been found?’
‘It would’ve been more sensible.’
‘Perhaps so, and I apologize. Anyway, now you can check with Vibius. He’ll confirm matters.’
Yeah, well, he probably would. Although that didn’t let the guy off the hook altogether, not by a long chalk. ‘And you didn’t bump into Tullius at all while you were there?’
‘No. I didn’t know it might be a possibility. In fact, if I had known I wouldn’t’ve gone there in the first place.’
‘OK,’ I said. ‘One more thing. You’re having an affair with Annia, right?’
He sat back. ‘Who told you that?’
There was no reason not to tell him. ‘Festus’s wife, Marcia. She said Tullius had told her himself.’
‘Then he was lying. Or she was. We’re good friends, Annia and me, we have been most of our lives, but that’s as far as it goes.’ He stood up. ‘And now I think you should go too, Corvinus. I’ve a lot to do this morning, and I’ve helped you all I can in this matter. Good day to you.’
Short and sweet. Yeah, well, if Poetelius was our man – and nothing he’d said went very far towards proving he wasn’t – then I’d rattled his cage pretty thoroughly. I got up and replaced the stool.
‘Fine,’ I said. ‘I’ll be seeing you around, pal.’
He didn’t answer. As I left, I could feel his eyes boring into my back.
OK, now for the lady. I retraced my steps down Head of Africa Road and through the Caelian to the junction with Ardeatina Gate Street at the Metrovian Gate, by which time the morning was mostly spent. Perfect timing, counting a stopover for a quick cup of wine, for a social call.
This time, she was sitting in the garden. Otherwise, history had repeated itself in the shape of the visitor in the other wickerwork chair opposite her.
‘Valerius Corvinus,’ Quintus Annius said, getting up. ‘We were just talking about you.’
‘Is that so, now?’ I said.
His sister smiled. ‘Nothing you couldn’t have heard.’ Then, to the slave who’d brought me out: ‘Timon, another chair. And perhaps a cup of wine?’ She looked at me.
‘Thanks. That’d be great.’
‘For you, Quintus?’
‘No, I’m fine.’ The slave left. ‘Sit here, Corvinus, please. Timon won’t be a moment. So. How are things going?’
I sat down. ‘Pretty well, considering,’ I said cautiously. Like the last time, I had the feeling that I’d walked in on something. Oh, the two of them were behaving naturally enough, and when you came down to it there was no reason why the guy shouldn’t be seeing a lot of his sister at present, things being as they were. But the coincidence didn’t sit easy all the same.
‘Well,’ he said, ‘I won’t press you for details. Particularly since as I said the last time we met I’ve no compelling desire to see my brother-in-law’s killer caught.’
Jupiter, he was a cold bastard, this one! Me, under normal circumstances I’m all in favour of candour, but a brutal comment like that, especially delivered in the bloodless way Annius chose to do it, sent a chill down my spine.
‘That’s good of you,’ I said. ‘Much appreciated.’
The slave came out with the chair, set it down, then returned for the wine-cup. I sipped. Graviscan again, and pretty good stuff, streets ahead of what my nosey pal in the wineshop served. Whatever faults Tullius had had, he’d kept a good cellar.
‘So,’ Annia said. ‘How can I help you this time?’
‘Ah … it’s a bit sensitive, lady,’ I said, glancing at Annius.
‘In that case’ – Annius had just sat down; now he stood up again – ‘I’ll go. If you’ll excuse me?’
‘Don’t be silly, Quintus!’ Annia pulled him down and looked at me. ‘Sensitive in what way? If you’ve learned something more about Gaius’s philanderings then it probably won’t come as news, let alone shock me. And I certainly won’t mind if my brother hears it.’
‘It’s not about your husband.’
‘Really?’ Then, when I still hesitated: ‘Oh, go on, Corvinus, please! I don’t have any secrets from Quintus. Definitely none I would be ashamed of if he knew them.’
‘OK, lady. The fact is I was told you were having an affair with Publius Poetelius.’