‘Mm.’ She was twisting a lock of hair.
‘Then there’s the Ostian incident. That doesn’t make sense. The guy told his wife, but not his partner. Having a load of amphoras dropped on you isn’t something that’d slip your mind. And it’s worth at least a passing mention.’
‘You’re sure the thing happened at all?’
‘How do you mean?’
‘It’s a theoretical possibility. Your only source for the story is Annia herself. She could have made it up.’
‘Why the hell should she want to do that?’
‘I don’t know. I said: it’s just a possibility. Or, of course, Tullius’s partner might have been lying when he said he knew nothing about it.’
‘That’s just as crazy. Again, why? Particularly since he gave me all the information I’d need to check it.’ I took another gulp of the wine. ‘In fact, everyone I’ve talked to so far – including the brother – has been pretty much up-front about things. They’re happy enough that I’m trying to trace the killer and willing enough to cooperate, but equally none of them’re making any secret of the fact that they think a world without Tullius is a far better place. At least, that’s the impression I’ve been getting so far.’
‘Never mind, dear. No doubt it’ll all work out in the end. So what about tomorrow?’
‘I thought I’d call in at the local Watch station, see what they can tell me. I don’t know the guy there, but he’s bound to know Lippillus, so that should help.’ Decimus Lippillus was an old friend of mine, head of the Public Pond Watch. ‘Then I’ll have a word with the two husbands, find out what their stories are. Talk to the wives as well, if they’re around. There’s another guy, too, a Titus Vibius, lives in more or less the same area, who might bear a substantial grudge. I’ll call in on him while I’m at it.’
‘What about the Ostia side of things?’
‘That can wait. Oh, sure, I’ll go down there in another day or so, check it out, probably drop by at Agron’s while I’m in the neighbourhood and split a jug of wine.’ Agron was another old friend, an Illyrian with a cart-building business.
‘One thing about this case, lady: we’re not short on leads. It makes a nice change.’ There was the sound of voices from the direction of the lobby. ‘Ah. That’s the kids back.’
It was; a moment or two later, Clarus and Marilla came in with the nurse Mysta holding the well-wrapped-up Sprog. Perilla smiled at them.
‘Just in time for dinner,’ she said. ‘Did you have a nice day?’
‘Oh, yes.’ Marilla was beaming.
There was something very wrong here; or not wrong, exactly, just distinctly odd. Clarus was looking definitely shifty, while Marilla looked like the cat who’s finally nailed the canary.
‘OK,’ I said. ‘So tell us about it. You know you want to.’
‘Take Marcus upstairs,’ Marilla said to Mysta. ‘I’ll be up in a minute.’ Mysta left, and she turned back to me. ‘We’ve got a murder for you.’
I stared. ‘You have a what?’
‘Or not exactly a murder. Although it comes to the same thing, really. At the Pollio.’ She settled down on the third couch. Clarus cleared his throat and sat down next to her.
‘You’re kidding!’ I said. I glanced at Perilla. She was staring too.
‘No, it’s true enough,’ Clarus said.
‘I thought you’d be pleased.’ Marilla was still beaming.
‘Now look here, Princess-’ I began.
‘The man was stabbed. Only he was dead already. And when I told the Watch officer who we were he said he knew you, so-’
Gods! ‘Look, Marilla, let’s just have this in order, OK?’ I said. Perilla had her mouth open to say something, but I held up a hand and she closed it. ‘You’re saying someone was killed – murdered – at the Pollio Library, right? While you were there. And that you were involved.’ Jupiter, I didn’t believe this! She’d only been in Rome five minutes. And the Pollio, for fuck’s sake! No one gets themselves murdered at the Pollio! ‘Take it slowly, a bit at a time.’
‘All right.’ She glanced at Clarus. ‘I told you. I was sitting on a bench in the Pollio gardens with Mysta and Marcus, waiting for Clarus to finish; you know that bit at the side, near the Danaid Porch, with the fountain and the benches?’
‘Yeah,’ I said. ‘I know it.’
‘Anyway, there was this man on another bench a few yards away, who was there when I arrived. I thought he was asleep, only it turned out that he wasn’t. Clarus arrived, and we were just getting ready to go when he sort of toppled over. Clarus went to check that he was all right, of course, and he was dead. He’d been stabbed in the back. Only-’
‘Only he was dead already,’ Clarus said.
‘How do you know that, pal?’ I said.
‘You want the clinical details, Corvinus?’
‘Ah … no.’ Gods! ‘No, I’ll take your word for it.’
‘There was hardly any blood. From the looks of things, he’d had an apoplexy. He’d been dead for at least an hour.’
‘So why-’ I began.
‘Marcus, dear …’ Perilla murmured.
‘Anyway,’ Marilla said, ‘Clarus went inside and told them, and they sent for the Watch. We had to stay, of course, because there’d be sure to be questions-’
‘Naturally you did,’ I said. Chances were, under the circumstances, you couldn’t’ve pulled the little lady away with grappling hooks and a team of oxen. Bugger!
‘And when the Watch officer arrived it turned out that he knew you. A Flavonius Lippillus.’
‘Lippillus? He’s in charge of the Public Pond district. What was he doing over on the Palatine?’
‘I don’t know. But you can ask him yourself when you see him. I said you might be interested, and he didn’t seem to mind. He’ll be at the Palatine Watch station on Tuscan Street, if you’d like to call in. I said you’d do that tomorrow.’
Hell; this I didn’t need! And Perilla wasn’t looking too happy either, to put it mildly. Which was understandable: there we were being careful to keep the young lady’s nose out of one murder, and she’d gone and stuck it into another off her own bat. Got me involved, too. One case I could handle, but two at the same time was pushing things.
‘So all in all,’ Marilla finished, ‘yes. We had a very nice day, thank you.’
Perilla had her mouth open again, but luckily at that moment Bathyllus shimmered in.
‘Dinner, sir?’ he said. ‘Meton says he’s ready whenever you are. No real hurry, though.’
Well, that was a nice change, anyway: our touchy chef normally had dinner timed to the second, and he took it very personally if we didn’t eat to order. At least that side of our domestic arrangements seemed to be going smoothly at present, if nothing else was. Which it decidedly wasn’t.
Fuck. Double fuck.
‘No, that’s OK, pal,’ I said, trying not to look at Perilla. ‘We’ll go through now. What’s on offer?’
‘He’s made a special effort, sir. Snails sauteed with fennel followed by roasted pigeons in a sweet onion sauce. With a custard tart and preserved fruits to follow.’
‘Oh, marvellous!’ Marilla said. She likes her food, does Marilla, and Meton’s always had a soft spot for her.
My stomach growled: the plate of cheese and olives I’d had for lunch in the wineshop had been hours ago, and there hadn’t been much of that, either. Not that, from the look on Perilla’s face, it was going to be a very comfortable family meal, despite Meton’s efforts. ‘Sounds great,’ I said, getting up quickly.
At least the Watch officer concerned had been Decimus Lippillus; all I had to do was pay the guy a short visit, explain the situation, that I was otherwise engaged at present and was keeping well clear. He’d understand, sure he would, and if she didn’t like it then Marilla would just have to lump it. Besides, if she thought she had a vested interest – which, to be fair, she did – then keeping the lady off my back would be difficult in spades.