‘Do you know where he lives?’ Perilla had finished off the chicken and chickpeas.
‘Uh-uh. Or not exactly. According to Rubrius he had a daughter whose husband has a fuller’s shop near Guildsmen’s Square. I might as well hunt her down tomorrow, for what it’s worth. I’ll pay a call on Fundanius, too. According to Rubrius, he’s practically a neighbour of ours, so I can use that as an excuse.’ I looked round; Bathyllus was hovering. ‘Yeah, little guy, we’re just about done. You can clear away. What’s for dessert?’
‘The chef has made a dried-fruit compote, sir.’ Bathyllus snapped his fingers for the skivvies with the trays. ‘He apologizes and promises that normal service will be resumed tomorrow when he can investigate the local fruit market.’
‘Compote’s great,’ I said. ‘And just top up the wine flask while you’re at it, OK?’
I stretched out on the couch. Eating al fresco had been a good idea: it’d settled in for a very pleasant evening. A bit on the cool side with the breeze from the sea, but from our raised terrace we had a fantastic view of the coast and the sunset; taken altogether, Ostia – or this stretch of coastline, rather – was not too bad. Not too bad at all. Certainly I couldn’t complain that this time round the case hadn’t had its incidental perks.
I glanced over at Perilla. The lady was watching me and smiling.
‘It is nice here, isn’t it, Marcus?’ she said quietly.
‘Yeah, it’s OK,’ I said. Perilla, it was clear, was really enjoying the break. Maybe we should hock some of the family silver and invest in a small out-of-town place of our own, and the advantage of Ostia over most of the places we’d been outside of Rome was that it didn’t offer much in the way of sightseeing. A definite plus, in my book: me, I’d go for the quiet life any time.
The case could wait for tomorrow. I took another swallow of wine, settled back, and closed my eyes.
EIGHTEEN
I was out and about at a reasonable hour the next morning. Not too early, because the plan was to kick off with a visit to Publius Fundanius. Neighbour was right: according to Caesia Fulvina’s bought help his villa was only two along from us, practically a stone’s throw away on the road into town; in fact, I’d registered it on my walk the day before, a solid little property a bit bigger than Fulvina’s but with no flash about it and obviously kept in pristine condition.
I’d thought carefully about how I was going to play this. From what Agron had said, taking the direct, in-your-face approach and rattling the guy’s cage for him would be a bad, bad idea: Agron was no scaremonger, Ostia was his town, and if he’d warned me in no uncertain terms to be careful how I went, then I’d be a fool not to listen. So I’d keep this friendly, or as friendly as I could on my side, and if Mamilia had already warned Fundanius to be wary of me – which, if Perilla’s collusion theory was right, the odds were she probably would’ve done – then, as the Greeks say, tant pis. The neighbour ploy was good enough, but I reckoned I could improve on it: there must be properties along the Laurentian coastline for sale or let, and as a local – and already a casual acquaintance – Fundanius would be the natural person to ask about them. Particularly if he was in business on his own account.
I came abreast of the villa. It was no different, from the outside, at least, to any of the other coastal ones I’d seen so far; clearly, we’d got a different set-up here to the one I’d met with at the Correllius place, much more laid-back and normal. On the face of it, anyway.
The gate-slave was an inoffensive old guy who looked like the slightest puff of wind would blow him away, and he was dozing on a stool in the morning sunshine with his back against the villa’s wall. I woke him up.
‘The master at home, pal?’ I said. ‘Publius Fundanius?’
‘Yes, sir.’ He got arthritically to his feet. ‘I expect he’s just finishing breakfast. You wanted to see him?’
‘Yeah. If it’s convenient.’
‘Oh, that shouldn’t be a problem. He doesn’t usually leave for town before mid-morning. If you’d like to come inside and wait in the garden for a minute or so, I’ll tell him you’re here. What name should I say?’
‘Corvinus. Valerius Corvinus. We met yesterday.’
‘That should be perfectly in order, sir. Was it business, or a private visit?’
‘A bit of both. I’m staying at Caesia Fulvina’s place.’ I couldn’t for the moment remember the husband’s name. ‘Just up the road. I thought I’d call in on the off-chance since I was passing.’
‘Oh, yes. I know the villa well, sir. And the Lady Caesia.’ He opened the gate. ‘Now, as I say, if you’d like to wait in the garden I’ll see if the master is receiving. The bench over by the hedge there should be perfectly comfortable.’
He hobbled off up the drive, and I settled down on the bench and looked around me. Nice garden, and like the rest of the place, from what I could see of it now that I was inside the grounds, impeccably kept. The bits and bobs were impressive too – some nice statues, obviously copies of Greek originals, and not too many to clutter the place up. Whatever his questionable business interests, Fundanius had good taste, and if he had money then he knew how to spend it. I’d reckon that if he and Mamilia did have a thing going she’d be far more his type than her late husband’s. And she’d said that she’d been trying to persuade Correllius into buying a seaside property, hadn’t she? Maybe she’d get her wish. Second-hand, as it were.
Clearly kindred spirits, in essence anyway, whatever contrary circumstances there might be. Some sort of alliance between Mamilia and Fundanius, unlikely as it seemed, was beginning to look like a viable proposition.
The slave came back.
‘The master will see you, sir,’ he said. ‘He’s on the breakfast terrace. If you’d like to follow me?’
We went round the corner of the villa’s nearside wing. That part of the garden – the east side – had a terrace sheltered by a trellised vine. Fundanius was sitting at a table with the remains of an al fresco breakfast on it.
He stood up.
‘Corvinus,’ he said. ‘This is an unexpected pleasure. Have a seat. You’ve breakfasted?’
‘Yeah. Yes, thanks.’ I sat down on one of the Gallic wickerwork chairs. ‘I’m sorry to disturb you so early, but like I told your gate-slave I’m staying just up the road and I thought I’d just drop in in passing on my way to town.’
‘Oh, my dear chap! Don’t give it another thought! You’re very welcome at any time, as is any friend of Aelius Tubero’s.’ Yeah, that was the Sewers and Aqueducts husband’s name. ‘I don’t see much of him, but he’s an excellent neighbour when he and his wife do come through to Ostia. Very good company, both of them. You must give him my regards when next you see him.’ He sat down again. ‘Now. Partly business, my slave said. What would that be?’ Straight to the point, and for all the bonhomie, there was more than a smidgeon of reserve and suspicion in the guy’s voice; I’d have my work cut out here. ‘Nothing to do with Marcus Correllius’s death, I hope, because there I’m afraid I can’t be of any help to you at all.’
‘No.’ I crossed my legs and went into my prepared spiel. ‘Actually, we were thinking – my wife and I, that is – about renting or buying one of the villas along the coast. Nothing too grand, just somewhere to get away to now and again. I was wondering, if it’s not too much trouble, as a local man – businessman – if you might be able to point us in the right direction.’
‘Ah.’ He smiled, and I could almost feel him relax. ‘It is very pleasant here after Rome, isn’t it? Especially in the summer months. Not too pricey, either, compared with some places. I hear that the Alban Hills are getting really expensive, and as for Baiae and the Bay of Naples prices are simply ridiculous. And you’ve come to the right man. I don’t specialize in that area myself, but I do keep my ear to the ground. Coincidentally, there is a very nice little property just come onto the rental market not too far away. A bit further along the coast from where you’re staying, so not quite as handy for town, but that’s reflected in the price. The Rusticellius place. I know the person who’s handling it, and I can give you the details, if you like.’