‘Sorry, pal,’ I said. ‘Bad timing. I’m interrupting your lunch.’
He gave me a long, considering look. Then, finally, he grunted and speared a piece of cheese with his knife.
‘That’s OK,’ he said. Grudging as hell; clearly not one for the pleasantries, Correllius’s exec. ‘Corvinus, wasn’t it? Through from Rome about the boss’s death.’
‘That’s right.’
‘Sit down.’ I did, and he chewed for a bit in silence, watching me. ‘This official in some way?’ he said finally, and then before I could answer: ‘Only we were told the death was natural. No surprises there. Correllius was fat as a pig, sixty plus, and he got breathless just walking across a room. He could’ve gone any time these past five years, so his doctor said.’
Delivered deadpan, and without so much as a smidgeon of sympathy. In fact, if anything there was a trace of contempt in the tone.
‘Yeah, it was natural,’ I said. ‘Matter of fact, the guy who found the body was my son-in-law. He’s a doctor himself, and he made the diagnosis. Also by coincidence the Watchman the clerks at the Pollio notified is an old friend of mine.’
‘Is that so, now? Bully for you.’ Doccius picked up the wine-cup and took a swig. ‘So. If the boss just up and died natural, then what’s this all about?’
‘He was stabbed. After he was already dead, sure, so there’s no actual crime involved, or not much of one as far as the Watch is concerned, but still. You knew that, presumably?’
‘Sure I did. I’m not blind, and I saw the body when they brought it back.’
I waited, but there was nothing more.
‘And you don’t think that’s worth looking into,’ I said at last, making it a clear statement, not a question, and loading it with as much sarcasm as I could.
His eyes never shifted from my face, and he carried on eating.
‘Should I?’ he said finally.
‘Yeah, I’d say that’d be a reasonable assumption.’ I was beginning to get angry now, and I was more than a little puzzled. ‘You’re his deputy, after all, or so the door-slave told me. The guy may’ve died naturally, but that’s only a technicality. In effect he was murdered.’
He speared another piece of cheese, chewed deliberately and swallowed.
‘“Murdered” is a strong word,’ he said at last. ‘And you admit yourself that it’s the wrong one, because Correllius was already dead. Me, now, I’ll settle for the technicality. If that’s OK with you and the Roman Watch. It saves a lot of hassle that way, and hassle I can do without. We all can here.’
I just didn’t believe this. ‘Look,’ I said. ‘Seemingly he’d arranged to meet a guy that day, a business associate by the name of Pullius. Marcus Pullius.’
Doccius’s hand, poised over the bowl of vegetables, stopped in mid-air.
‘Who told you that?’ he said sharply.
Hey! We’d got a reaction at last! ‘The slave he had with him. Mercurius. Or at least that was the name he gave to my Watchman friend. You know anything about him?’
He picked up the bread and broke it.
‘Not a thing,’ he said. ‘Pullius is no one I’ve ever heard of, that’s for sure. And you don’t want to believe anything that dozy bugger Mercurius said. He always did have his head up his backside.’
‘You can ask him for yourself. He’s on the premises, presumably.’
‘Was.’ He took another swig of the wine.
‘How do you mean, “was”?’
‘I told you: he was a dozy bugger without the sense he was born with. He had an accident twelve or fifteen days back. Fell off the roof while he was up replacing a cracked tile and broke his neck.’ His eyes challenged me over the lifted wine-cup. ‘So that’s that. I’m sorry, but you’ve had a wasted journey.’
‘OK. Fine.’ I was having real trouble keeping my temper now, but if he wanted me to lose it I wasn’t going to give the bastard the satisfaction. ‘Just one more thing before I go, pal. Correllius was in the import-export business, right? Wine and oil, specifically?’
A blink, and the answer was too long in coming. ‘Yeah. We deal in wine and oil, among other things. So forget your “specifically”, because the company has various business interests covering a pretty wide range.’
Yeah; that, from what I was beginning to glean about the set-up here, was probably true. And I’d bet that not all of them would figure among the Ostian Honest Trader of the Year categories.
‘Your boss had a consignment about half a month back bound for Aleria on a ship called the Porpoise, master Titus Nigrinus,’ I said. ‘That right?’
Again the hesitation, and his eyes definitely flickered. ‘Possibly,’ he said. ‘I’d have to check the records to be sure, but I’ll take your word for it. Again, so what?’
I gave him my best smile. ‘Probably nothing. Certainly nothing to do with your boss’s murder; sorry, death. Just a snippet of information I came across recently in connection with something else. Don’t let it worry you.’
‘Why should it worry me?’ But he was rattled; obviously so. ‘Now, Corvinus, that’s my lunch break over and I’ve got more to do today than I’ve time for. You mind?’
‘Not at all.’ I got up. ‘Thanks for your trouble.’
‘A pleasure.’ Not what his eyes said; not by a long chalk. ‘I’ll see you out.’
We walked through the peristyle garden and into the house proper. I was crossing the atrium when I came face-to-face with a stylish middle-aged woman coming from the direction of the lobby.
She stopped.
‘And who might you be?’ she said.
‘This is Valerius Corvinus, madam,’ Doccius said. ‘From Rome. He came to talk to me about the boss’s death. He’s just leaving.’
A complete change of tone: he didn’t exactly go the length of tugging his forelock, but the impression I got was that he wasn’t all that far off it.
‘You’re Mamilia, yes?’ I said. ‘Marcus Correllius’s wife?’ I was tactful enough to avoid the word ‘widow’. Mind you – and it was odd, to say the least – the lady was wearing everyday dress, not a mourning mantle. Pretty expensive everyday dress at that, and slap bang up to fashion, if I was any judge. Plus for a woman who’d lost her husband under tragic circumstances less than a month before she wasn’t looking exactly prostrate with grief. She was wearing full make-up, for a start, and I’d bet that wherever she’d been it wasn’t to sob at the late Correllius’s graveside.
Like I say, odd. And very, very interesting.
‘I am indeed Mamilia,’ she said. She was giving me a long, considering look. ‘Corvinus, your name was?’
‘Yeah. Actually, it was you I came to see in the first place, but your door-slave said you were out.’
‘Which was quite true. I was, but as you can see I’m back.’ The eyes finally shifted, as if she’d been carefully weighing up a range of options and finally come to a decision. ‘So by all means you can talk to me now, if you wish.’ Doccius opened his mouth to say something, but she held up a hand and he closed it. ‘That will do for now, Publius. Thank you for taking care of Valerius Corvinus in my absence, but you have work of your own, I’m sure.’
‘Yes, madam.’ He shot me a look that wouldn’t’ve disgraced a basilisk, turned on his heel and went back out through the peristyle.
Mamilia watched him go, then turned back to me. ‘Sit down, Valerius Corvinus,’ she said. ‘You’ll find that couch beside you perfectly comfortable.’ She sat down herself in the chair beside the ornamental pool and tidied the folds of her mantle. ‘Now. Marcus’s death. First of all, if you don’t mind my asking, what precisely is your interest in the matter?’