So it must’ve happened. Only it couldn’t have …
Then, of course, there was the matter of Correllius. That had been a facer, and no mistake, and it had come completely out of the blue. Like it or not – and Marilla would be crowing when she heard, I knew – the stabbing at the Pollio had become relevant with a vengeance. I’d have to look into the Correllius business after all.
Bugger!
Clearly, I wasn’t just missing a few pieces of the puzzle; I’d hardly touched the surface. Worse, I couldn’t even make out the overall picture any more. Ah, hell. We’d just have to see whether Agron came up with an address for this Siddius guy. Meanwhile, I reckoned another talk with Annia was in order. Plus, of course, a visit to Decimus Lippillus in Tuscan Street for an update on the Correllius case. If he had anything new at all, that was.
Bathyllus had laid the cold cuts and sundries out on the dining-room table for me, but after the bath and the wine I was too knackered to eat them. I dragged my still-stiff-and-saddle-sore carcase up to bed and crashed out.
The bath must’ve done some good, mind, because although I was late up the next morning – even later than Perilla, let alone the kids, who were long gone on their day’s junketing by the time I surfaced – I wasn’t suffering too many ill effects. I had a good breakfast, brought the lady up to date with things as far as that was possible, particularly re the Correllius business, and set out for Ardeatina Gate Street …
Or at least I started to.
I was just in time to see the sign-painter who’d been working on next door’s garden wall pack up his paint pot, brushes, and ladder. He gave me a friendly nod and went off whistling down the street.
Odd. It wasn’t election time, nor were we on the main drag where graffiti artists use your property as a billboard to tell the world about their current loves and hates. Besides, these bastards usually work unsocial hours. There hadn’t been anything clandestine about this guy; quite the reverse.
Just out of curiosity, I went over to see what he’d been writing. In letters two feet high, the inscription read:
MY NEXT-DOOR NEIGHBOUR IS A CAT-KILLER
Oh, shit. I went back inside and through to the dining room, where Perilla was just spreading her third roll with honey.
‘I’m afraid the, uh, feud with the Petillius household seems to have racked up another notch, lady,’ I said.
She looked up, startled.
‘What?’
I told her.
‘But that’s ridiculous! Can he do that?’
I shrugged. ‘It’s his wall.’
‘It’s also defamation.’
‘Sure it is. On the other hand, if I go down to the city judge’s office and bring an action, I’m going to look pretty silly, aren’t I? Leaving aside the fact that to take the bugger to court would be a declaration of out-and-out war.’
‘So what do we do?’
‘What can we do? Send Bathyllus out under cover of darkness with a brush and a bucket of whitewash? That’d be almost as bad, especially if he got caught.’
‘The whole thing’s just silly!’
I sighed. ‘Yeah. No arguments there. But you know Petillius and Tyndaris; they aren’t rational. Me, I’d be inclined just to ignore it, let things blow over.’ I kissed her. ‘Anyway, I’ve got other fish to fry at present. I’ll see you later.’
It was raining slightly when I came back out: May in Rome can be a pretty unsettled month, and although we’d been lucky so far there’d been some wet days earlier on. Still, it wasn’t too bad, and although Ardeatina Gate Street was a fair hike I reckoned I’d do well enough with my ordinary cloak. As it was, by the time I’d reached the edge of the Caelian ridge and was on the downhill slope towards the Metrovian Gate the sky had cleared and the sun was out again. Good walking weather.
I knocked on Annia’s door and the door-slave took me through to where the lady was sitting in the atrium. She was alone: no brother this time, which made a pleasant change.
‘Back again, Corvinus?’ she said. ‘I understood you were going down to Ostia.’
I pulled up a stool and sat down. ‘Yeah. Yeah, I was. I did, yesterday.’
‘And?’
‘Funny thing, that. According to the quay-master in charge of the wharf where your husband was supervising that shipment that day there was no accident at all.’
She frowned. ‘That’s nonsense! There must’ve been!’
I’d deliberately hit her with it point-blank, and the puzzled look on her face seemed genuine enough. Even so-
‘He’s absolutely certain,’ I said. ‘And, believe me, lady, if there had been then he’d’ve known. These things all get reported, seemingly.’
‘But Gaius told me distinctly! He wouldn’t’ve made something like that up. I mean, why should he?’
‘Right,’ I said. ‘It’s an oddity. You care to go over again just what your husband said? Exactly, word for word, if you can.’
‘If you want me to.’ She took a moment to think. ‘He said he was walking along the quay towards the bit at the end where the ship carrying his cargo was berthed. While he was about to pass another ship that was being loaded the crane that was doing it dropped a netful of amphoras right in front of him. I said something fatuous like, “Good heavens, you might’ve been killed!” and he laughed and said, “No, I was just lucky, that’s all.” And then he changed the subject and asked me how my day had been.’
I played the words back in my head, but they still didn’t make sense.
‘Hang on, lady,’ I said. ‘He said, “No”. You’re sure about that? “No”, not “Yes”?’
‘That’s right. “No, I was just lucky”. I remember thinking was a bit strange at the time, but it was clear what he meant.’
Strange was right, and the more you thought about it the stranger it got. I filed the problem for later reference. ‘The chances are that the other ship was called the Porpoise. Ring any bells?’
‘No.’
‘How about the name Nigrinus?’
‘No, I’ve never heard of him. Who’s Nigrinus?’
‘The Porpoise’s captain. It doesn’t matter. How about Correllius? Marcus Correllius?’ She shook her head. Again, there hadn’t been the slightest twitch of an eyelid. ‘Fair enough. Leave it. Another strange thing. Your husband’s partner, Poetelius. He told me he didn’t know anything about the incident.’
‘Did he?’ Annia didn’t sound too surprised, or indeed interested. ‘Well, that’s no great wonder. Gaius and Publius didn’t have very much to say to each other outside actual business, from what I understood.’ She got up. ‘But I’m being inhospitable, Corvinus. I’ll have Timon bring you a cup of wine.’
‘No, that’s OK, lady.’ I got up too. ‘I only dropped in. I have to be getting on.’
I needed to think.
I might as well go over to Tuscan Street, while I was at it, see if Lippillus was around. That meant going back up Ardeatina, cutting left onto the Appian Road, then along the Palatine side of the Racetrack. Which was what I started to do.
There’d been another change in the weather, very much for the worse; black clouds were moving in from the west, and the first drops of rain were falling. Big ones, too. Bugger. The detour was possibly a mistake after alclass="underline" the centre was a long way off, and this wasn’t good wineshop country. I wrapped myself in my cloak and headed as fast as I could towards the Appian junction.
Five minutes later, the heavens opened good and proper and the rain came battering down as if Jupiter had opened the celestial stopcock as far as it would go. What pedestrians there were – and there weren’t many of them – were running for cover. The downpour wouldn’t last, sure, but in the meantime I was getting soaked. There was a stonemason’s yard just up ahead, with a roofed-over section for the carts. I put up the hood of my cloak and made a dash for it.