Food for the Fishes (Marcus Corvinus Book 10)

by David Wishart

  ‘Not even in general terms?’

  He hesitated. ‘He did mention it, once or twice. Just the bare fact, not in any detail.’

  ‘I get the impression the idea isn’t too highly thought of locally. Am I right?’

  Another hesitation. ‘It may cause certain...frictions, yes.’

  ‘Who with?’

  His brows came down. ‘Corvinus, I came here to offer what help and information I could as Murena’s doctor. Perhaps we’re moving a little far from –’

  ‘Please?’ Perilla said.

  ‘Very well.’ He cleared his throat. ‘Although this is really none of my concern, you understand, and I have patients to attend to this afternoon. Murena...it was felt that Murena’s business interests should stop at fish-breeding. Tourists and tourism are another matter. There are already several businessmen in the town who operate in that area and who are...perhaps one could say a little upset at the prospect of having to compete with someone they view as an outsider.’

  ‘Such as?’ I said. ‘Oh, come on, pal! I’m not asking you to tell me anything I couldn’t find out from elsewhere.’

  ‘The main one is a gentleman by the name of Philippus. Licinius Philippus.’ Diodotus stood up suddenly. ‘Now I really must be going. If there’s anything more I can do for you, within the medical sphere – ’

  ‘Licinius Philippus?’ I said. ‘He’s Murena’s freedman?’

  ‘Oh, yes. Indeed. But he was freed a long time ago, as a very young man. Now he’s one of the richest men in Baiae.’ He held out his hand. ‘I’m delighted to have met you.’ He nodded to Perilla. ‘Madam.’

  We watched him go.

  ‘So, lady,’ I said, when he’d disappeared back through the portico. ‘What do you think?’

  Perilla was twisting her hair. ‘He’s a very cold, precise person, isn’t he? Very...serious-minded.’

  ‘Yeah.’ I sipped the wine. ‘That was the impression I got. Probably a whizz at his job because he can’t see far outside it. Which doesn’t argue for a relationship with Gellia, does it?’

  ‘Not very well. Or not on his side, rather, even without his disclaimer. I can see, though, how she’d find him attractive.’

  I grinned. ‘Is that so, now?’

  ‘Oh, yes. Most women would. But, well, as far as any conspiracy to murder is concerned - if you’re thinking along those lines - I suspect the influence would have to go the other way, with him being the motivating force. He’d be too...selfish to have it otherwise. And that isn’t likely, is it? Why would Diodotus - Diodotus, not Gellia - want rid of Murena?’ She tugged a stray fold of her mantle into place. ‘Besides, he was quite correct: doctors have to be terribly careful to avoid any suspicion of scandal, especially in places like Baiae. Young good-looking ones above all. He certainly struck me as sincere and anxious to be helpful as far as he could.’

  ‘Right.’ Bugger. Still, what she’d said about him being no cat’s-paw was a fair point; me, having seen the guy I’d tend to agree. And what little evidence we had that Diodotus and Gellia were an item hadn’t exactly come from an unbiased source. Chlorus and Nerva had their own axes to grind. Apropos of which: ‘These nicknames. What made you ask about them?’

  ‘I don’t know. Just a feeling. But I’m glad I did.’ She was still twisting her hair. ‘Licinius Murena doesn’t seem to have been a very...pleasant person, does he, Marcus? Not in himself.’

  ‘Uh-uh.’ Not pleasant was putting it mildly; bastard - the general consensus so far - summed up the guy pretty well. ‘He had Chlorus pinned, though, didn’t he? And Nerva as well, from what I’ve seen of him. Vagabond’s a good name. Whatever his faults, I’d bet Murena knew people.’

  ‘What kind of man gives his sons nicknames like Scowler and Vagabond, Marcus? Not to mention calling his wife Butterfly?’

  ‘All three fit, lady. From what I’ve seen of the trio, anyway. And they’re not exactly a close family.’

  ‘No, they aren’t, are they?’ She was still looking thoughtful. ‘Quite horrendous, really. What about Gadfly? For the partner? What’s his name, Tattius?’

  I shrugged. ‘Pass. I haven’t met him yet.’

  ‘Do you know anything about him at all?’

  ‘Only what Diodotus told us.’

  ‘That he was a former colleague of Murena’s and wasn’t directly concerned with the business. Yes. So why “Gadfly”? What’s gadfly-ish about him?’

  ‘Gods, Perilla, I don’t know! There could be a dozen reasons for calling him that. And like I say I’ve never met the guy.’

  ‘Perhaps you should, then.’ She smiled. ‘It’s probably nothing, dear. Just a fancy. But it is curious.’

  Yeah, now she came to mention it it was: I could see how the other names worked, after all. And the whole business angle was definitely one we still had to go into. This freedman of Murena’s, Philippus, was certainly an oddity. Slaves freed young aren’t all that common, to put it mildly; slaves’re valuable commodities, part of their owner’s capital, and it either takes them years to save enough to buy themselves out or they get their freedom as a reward for a lifetime of service, usually in the master’s will when he personally has had everything out of them he’s going to get and doesn’t have a vested interest any more. And from what I’d heard of Licinius Murena I doubted if he’d been the kind of woolly philanthropist who’d do things any different. So how had this Philippus got his slap on the ear? Not to mention the nest-egg he’d need to bankroll a career in business? That was a question that needed answering, too.

  ‘Right,’ I said. ‘First thing in the morning I’ll –’

  ‘Mmmaa! Marcus, my boy! How are you today? Perilla, you’re looking radiant.’

  I glanced round. The wanderer had returned. Priscus was coming up through the garden from the direction of the side gate.

  8

  He was looking pretty radiant himself, in a snazzy new mantle. That would’ve been unusual enough - snazzy mantles and Priscus just didn’t get on, or not past the first meal, anyway - but he’d also been freshly barbered. Scented, too: I could smell him even over the flowers in Lucia Domitilla’s flower garden.

  ‘Ah...hi, Priscus,’ I said. ‘How’s it going?’

  ‘Not bad. Not bad at all, thank you.’ He sat down on the chair Diodotus had vacated.

  ‘You, uh, have a nice chat with your friend? What’s-his-name, the oil-lamp man?’

  ‘Leonides? No, I’m afraid he was out for the day. Some unexpected business in Puteoli. Still, it was a pity to waste the journey so I had a wander round the town instead.’ He beamed at us like a louche myopic monkey. ‘Fascinating. Quite fascinating. Especially - mmaaa - that quaint little district behind the market square. Do you know, Marcus, Vipsania and I have been coming here for years and I never knew it existed?’

  Yeah. Right; I could see how that might be, with Mother in charge. Baiae may be the playground of the idle rich, but even in that bracket tastes vary considerably and the old town behind the forum caters for most of them, legal and otherwise. Mostly after sunset, but the entrepreneurial locals being what they are some places stay open all day. ‘Ah - is that so, now?’ I said cautiously.

  ‘Speaking of Vipsania, Priscus,’ Perilla said, ‘you know you were supposed to take her shopping this afternoon then on to Cornelia Gemella’s?’

  He blinked at her. ‘Mmmaaa?’

  ‘She went on her own. She was quite upset.’

  ‘But that was tomorrow, surely.’

  ‘Today,’ I said. ‘And upset’s an understatement. You may live to see another sunrise, pal, but I wouldn’t give odds.’

  ‘How very unfortunate.’ The old bugger was still blinking away like a stunned owl. ‘I was certain it was tomorrow. She’s already gone, you say? In the carriage, no doubt? Oh, tut!’ He sighed. ‘Well, there isn’t much that I can do about it now, is there?’

  ‘You could take the litter,’ Perilla said.

  ‘Oh, I don’t think so. Gemella’s place is well out in the
country. It’d take hours. But to get back to the quaint little district I was telling you about, Marcus –’

  Perilla stood up suddenly. ‘I have things to do, dear,’ she said. ‘Perhaps you’d like to chat to Priscus on your own for a while. In private.’

  Oh, shit. ‘Uh...right. Right,’ I said. ‘Catch you later.’ As she walked towards the house I reached for the jug Bathyllus had left, poured myself a belter and downed half of it at a gulp. I had a feeling I was going to need it here. ‘Okay, Priscus,’ I said. ‘Confession time. Let’s have the gory details.’

  That got me the shell-shocked owl look again. ‘I beg your pardon?’

  ‘Look, cut it out. It’s just us now, I’m no fool and you’ve got beans to spill, so level. First off, you didn’t get your dates mixed up, did you? You knew damn well you were supposed to take Mother jewellery-shopping today. And I’d bet a gold piece to a corn plaster you never went near your pal Leonides’s.’

  ‘Ah...’

  ‘Now personally I couldn’t care less whether you worked your way through every wineshop and cat-house in Baiae. But after Mother’s had your guts for bootlaces she’ll rip out mine for an encore, and that’s something I have a definite vested interest in. Understand?’

  ‘Marcus, my boy, I assure you I didn’t...I would never...maaa...’

  ‘So let’s just have it straight, right? No flannelling.’

  He blinked at me for a good half minute; seventy-plus or not, the image of a sulky teenager. Finally, he cleared his throat and said stiffly: ‘I simply - mmaa - felt the urge this morning to have a shave and a haircut in one of the barber shops off the market square. Also to purchase a new mantle at a draper’s emporium which I had noticed yesterday and indulge in a short stroll. There was nothing wrong in any of these actions, I trust?’

  ‘Priscus, a shave and haircut take an hour, max. Say the same for buying the mantle. That leaves several hours unaccounted for. Don’t faff around.’

  ‘I must say I - mmaa - resent your tone. If I want to –’

  ‘Resent it all you like, pal, but very shortly Mother’s going to be back spitting blood, and this time as far as I’m concerned she can haul your liver out through your gizzard while I stand back and applaud. So give. What else happened?’

  He fizzed for a bit. Then he said: ‘If you must know, while I was having my haircut I got into conversation with a most charming gentleman in the next chair. A local businessman. We had a very interesting chat about...various things.’

  ‘Such as?’

  ‘It transpired that he had connections in the - mmaa - entertainment field.’ Priscus blinked at me. ‘Did you realise, Marcus, that gambling halls are quite legal in Baiae?’

  Uh huh. Well, we were getting somewhere at last. Gambling - proper gambling, as opposed to private wagers - isn’t strictly legal anywhere, barring at the Winter Festival, but it’s one of these things the authorities turn a very substantial blind eye to, especially when kickbacks are involved, which they usually are. And Baiae, being a holiday place where the punters aren’t short of a gold piece or two, is a real hotspot. ‘So this “charming gentleman” took you somewhere and you lost your shirt, right?’ I said. Well, it could’ve been worse.

  ‘Oh, no. Nothing like that. Although we did on his suggestion visit one of the establishments concerned in which he happened to have a controlling interest. Located in, as I said, that rather quaint old district behind the market square. It was quite an eye-opener. Quite an eye-opener. There were - mmaa - these girls - young ladies, rather - with, if you’ll believe it, hardly a stitch on.’

  ‘Priscus,’ I said. ‘Mother is going to kill you.’

  He grinned his louche innocent’s grin. ‘Oh, I’ve no intention of telling Vipsania. She wouldn’t understand at all. This is - mmaa - just between you and me, my boy. Our little secret.’

  Gods! ‘Uh...’

  ‘After all, where’s the harm? And as I say I didn’t lose a copper piece. If anything I made a slight profit. And I enjoyed myself enormously.’

  I groaned. ‘Look, pal. That was what’s called a come-on. The next time it’ll be for real and you’ll get creamed.’

  ‘Nonsense. Philippus may be a freedman but he is also - mmaa - a complete gentleman. I’m quite convinced he would no more –’

  ‘Who did you say?’

  He blinked at me. ‘Philippus. The owner of the –’

  ‘Licinius Philippus?’

  ‘That I don’t know. Possibly. He only gave me the one name.’ He paused, and I could almost see the delayed trickle-feed process happening. ‘Wasn’t your dead man a Licinius?’

  ‘Yeah,’ I said. ‘Yeah, he was. If it’s the same Philippus then he used to be a slave of his.’

  ‘Really? How coincidental. And it explains, I suppose - mmmaa - why he was so interested in you.’

  I stared at him. ‘He was interested in me? When the hell did my name come up?’

  ‘Oh, very early on. At the haircut stage. He’d asked whether I was alone in Baiae and naturally I said no. Then in the course of the ensuing conversation I happened to mention that you were investigating a suspicious death for the authorities here and he was most intrigued. Asked me all sorts of questions which of course I couldn’t answer.’ He grinned and chuckled. ‘Really, my boy, I almost felt at times that I was being interrogated. It was quite exhilarating.’

  I sat back, brain buzzing. Shit! Maybe it had been simple curiosity at that, but I wasn’t laying any bets. Diodotus had said that this Philippus had been seriously unchuffed with Murena’s hotel idea, and if he wasn’t exactly in the prime suspects’ bag already that was only because he was an unknown quantity. And if someone like Priscus had spotted a deliberate grilling then it must’ve been as obvious as a hippo in a bird-bath.

  ‘Uh...you make any sort of arrangement to go back to this place?’ I asked.

  ‘Oh, yes. Nothing definite, though. Philippus said it gets - mmaa - quite lively of an evening, and he suggested I might like to drop in after dinner some night to see it at its best.’ He beamed. ‘I must say the offer is most tempting. Most tempting. And if you would care to come with me, Marcus, I’m sure Philippus would make you very welcome.’

  Hmm. ‘Listen, Priscus,’ I said. ‘This is important, so take your time and think before you answer. Did Philippus himself say that or is this you talking here?’

  ‘Oh, it was his idea. Completely. He was most insistent that you be included in the invitation. Not that I wouldn’t be delighted to have you along for my own sake, of course.’

  Interesting. If Philippus’s prime concern was to get his hooks into a patsy then inviting me to tag along was the last thing he’d do. So either the guy was genuine, which I doubted, or he had an ulterior motive; and what that could be was pretty obvious. If he was keen to find out what lines I was chasing in the Murena case then he wouldn’t’ve got very far picking Priscus’s brains; he’d need to talk to me direct.

  The big question was, why was he keen? Scrub simple curiosity: Philippus, I knew, had his own business-related reasons for wishing Murena into an urn, and even if I didn’t know yet how strong these were the guy was right up there on the suspects list. And coincidence was something I didn’t believe in. I’d like a quiet talk with Philippus myself.

  On my own terms, though. When I had it I didn’t want to be nursemaiding Priscus. Just the thought of having to explain to Mother when she found out - and she would find out - why I’d allowed him to persuade me into taking him to a gambling hall gave me goose-bumps. Especially if, while I was chatting to the boss, he lost what back teeth he still had in some dice game or other. Which, given his current kicking-over-the-traces track record, was what the daft old bugger would almost certainly do...

  Uh-uh. I couldn’t risk it. No way could I risk it, because Mother would kill me. She’d kill both of us. Still, there was no point in hurting the guy’s feelings in the process.

  ‘Ah...there’s just one major snag,’ I said.

 
‘Oh, I’m sure you can think of something to tell Vipsania.’

  This time I was the one to blink. Yeah. Right. Sometimes I wonder if Priscus isn’t sharper than he looks. I had the distinct feeling here that I was being hustled.

  ‘Look,’ I said. ‘Let’s just put this on hold for a bit, eh? A few more days won’t matter. Leave it with me and I’ll get back to you.’

  His face fell, like a kid’s when he’s told that a birthday treat has had to be cancelled. ‘If you...mmaa!...insist, Marcus,’ he said. ‘Although I must admit I was rather looking forward to it. Couldn’t we just –?’

  ‘No. Read my lips.’

  ‘Very well. If that’s how you feel.’

  He got up and wandered off. Shit. Well, sometimes you had to be cruel to be kind. And if he did knot the bed-sheets together now and do a runner off his own bat then my conscience was clear.

  Still, that little conversation had given me a lot to think about. Priscus had been got at, no question, and not just as a gambling hall owner’s mark. The fact that he hadn’t been able to provide any information worth the name was irrelevant: he’d still been soaked.

  So why?

  Licinius Philippus was one guy I just had to see.

  9

  The next morning I rode out to see Murena’s partner, Decimus Tattius.

  Diodotus had said the guy had a villa on the main drag, inland of Murena’s. Out the other way, towards Puteoli and Neapolis, the countryside gets pretty rugged pretty quickly, especially when you come to what the locals call the Burning Fields, but in the Misenum direction the whole peninsula’s taken up with luxury villas whose owners can afford to give nature a helping hand. Sure, you occasionally do get flocks of sheep and goats lifting their heads to give you evil-eyed stares from the bosky shade while quaint shepherds straight out of the blunt end of a pastoral blow their oaten pipes at you from under an arbutus, but the general impression is of scenery that’s been civilised to within an inch of its life, often involving topiaried hedges, architectural features that wouldn’t be out of place in one of these snappy modern trompe-l’oiel frescos and the periodic scream of an ostrich from some rich bugger’s private zoo.