Food for the Fishes (Marcus Corvinus Book 10)

by David Wishart

  She looked a bit discomfited for a moment, which for Mother isn’t saying much, mind. ‘No. Not as such. But from Titus’s description of how the game went I would not be at all surprised, and that is quite good enough for me. Actual proof would be a confirming factor, certainly, but it’s not stricly necessary. They frequent that place you mentioned, don’t they? The gambling den?’

  She’d fazed me for a moment, because I was still mentally gasping over that ‘actual proof’ bit. ‘Uh...Nerva and Florus? Philippus’s? Yeah, as a matter of fact they do, but –’

  ‘Then if you don’t want to ask them outright to return the money - and why you don’t, Marcus, escapes me entirely - then you’ll simply have to win it back from them, won’t you?’

  I stared at her.

  Priscus was dismembering another crayfish. He beamed. ‘Good idea! Nerva and Florus told me they were in Philippus’s most evenings. I’ll take Marcus along with me and –’

  She gave him a look that shut his mouth with a snap that probably had serious implications for his remaining teeth. ‘Titus, you are not going anywhere! You’ve done quite enough already. Marcus can go on his own.’

  ‘Now just wait one sodding minute!’ I said. ‘I’ve absolutely no intention whatsoever of –!’

  ‘Don’t swear, dear.’ She pulled the salver of crayfish away from Priscus’s questing hand. ‘Of course, it’s hardly likely that Nerva will be there - mourning is mourning, after all, even if he is a poisonous little squirt and didn’t get on with his brother - but there’s always the chance of the other fellow.’

  It was time to knock this one on the head right now, before she really got the bit between her teeth. ‘Listen, Mother,’ I said carefully. ‘This is important. We’re talking about dice, right?’

  ‘Correct.’

  ‘Now, the odds in a dice game are pretty even, unless the bones are shaved or loaded, and me, I’m not going to play anyone using doctored bones of my own, not for you or anyone else. Especially somewhere the boss takes the house’s reputation really, really seriously and who’s already not exactly a bosom buddy of mine. Understand?’

  ‘Naturally, I do, Marcus. I never suggested that you should –’

  ‘Fine. This means that if I play Florus or Nerva at dice it’s just as likely that I’ll lose as win. And frankly I don’t feel like risking one copper piece of my own money just on the off-chance of getting back what that dozy old bugger over there shouldn’t’ve bet in the first place.’

  ‘Marcus!’

  ‘Mmmaaa!’

  ‘So you can just –’

  ‘How about Twelve Lines?’ Perilla said brightly.

  I spun to face her. ‘What?’

  ‘Twelve Lines. People gamble playing that, too, don’t they?’

  ‘Whose side are you on, lady?’

  ‘I mean,’ she shelled a clam, ‘it would be much better than dice, wouldn’t it? It involves more skill than luck. Or at least as much, anyway.’

  Holy immortal gods! Was I the only sane one here? ‘Perilla, read my lips: I have not the slightest intention of playing those bastards at Twelve Lines either, okay? None. Zero. Zilch. Got it?’

  ‘I would hope not, dear. Certainly not if they’re any good. They’d walk all over you.’ She laid her knife down. ‘I was going to suggest that I play them - or one of them - myself.’

  I goggled; Mother, to give her her due, goggled as well, and that’s a thing you don’t see very often. Priscus almost swallowed his last crayfish whole and went off into a protracted bleat.

  ‘You, lady,’ I said, ‘have just got to be joking!’

  ‘Why? I can beat you nine times out of ten, and only because the tenth time you cheat and I don’t let on I’ve spotted you.’

  ‘Perilla, it’s got nothing to do with skill! Philippus’s is a gambling hall!’

  ‘So?’

  ‘Women don’t go into fu- ...into gambling halls! At least, uh, not your kind of women.’

  ‘You mean they’ve got three arms and two heads?’

  ‘Gods, lady, you know what I mean! Mother, you tell her!’

  Mother sniffed. ‘I’ll do nothing of the kind, dear. I never interfere between man and wife as you well know’ - hah! - ‘and I’m not going to begin now. I can’t say I altogether approve - you’re perfectly correct there, Marcus, and I wish you’d show similar delicacy in other circumstances - but that is up to Perilla. Besides, I’ve played Twelve Lines with her myself in the past and she beats me hollow every time.’

  ‘Oh, come on, Marcus!’ The lady was grinning at me. ‘Don’t be a spoilsport! I’m good, you know I’m good, it’d be fun, and there’s no actual law against it, is there?’

  ‘Now you come to mention it –’

  ‘Nonsense. We can go after dinner in the carriage. If neither Nerva nor Florus is there Lysias can bring us straight home.’

  Bugger; I knew that tone, and I’d got about as much chance of changing the lady’s mind as walking across the Bay of Baiae juggling three elephants. I was nailed, and I knew it. Well, at least it would get Mother off my back.

  She was right about the cheating, too.

  20

  We scared up Lysias, the carriage and four torchmen and headed off for Philippus’s. On the way, I conquered my sulk and told Perilla about recent developments.

  ‘You think Nerva could have killed him?’ she said when I’d finished. ‘His own brother?’

  ‘It’s possible. After all, he’s a fair bet for pushing his father into the fish tank. From parricide to fratricide isn’t a big step. And like Mother said they’re an appalling family.’

  ‘But why? Why should he kill Chlorus?’

  ‘That I’m not sure of. My guess - and it’s only a guess - is that if he did then his reasons boil down to money and control of the family business. Me, I’d really like to know the details of this grain barge scheme.’ I looked out of the window. Philippus’s wasn’t far - I could’ve walked it, easy, in under half an hour if I hadn’t had Perilla - and we were almost there. ‘There again, he may be the front runner, but he’s not the only one in the family. There’s Penelope, for a start. If the Fadia trial’s relevant to all this - and I’ll bet that it is - then it gives her motive in spades for the Murena side of things, certainly, even after all this time. She might not look much, but that lady hates, and she’s got good reason to. I didn’t know just how much.’

  ‘Penelope may have killed her father, but why Chlorus? I get the impression she despised him rather than hated him. Contempt doesn’t lead to murder, Marcus.’

  ‘Could be from the motive Nerva gave me for Gellia: that he found out something and was blackmailing her. Certainly she’d know her brother’s handwriting, well enough to forge the note, but then so would anyone else connected with the case. Then there’s Gellia herself. If Nerva didn’t kill Chlorus she’s a reasonable bet, because she had both the motive and the opportunity to kill her husband. That’s if the two deaths are connected, of course.’

  ‘They must be, surely.’

  ‘Yeah. I agree. I just haven’t got the link yet, that’s all, or at least if I have then I don’t know it. On the other hand, I’ve got a better possibility than Gellia lined up, for Chlorus’s murder at least.’

  ‘Oh? And who’s that?’

  ‘Ligurius.’

  ‘Ligurius? Marcus, why on earth would Ligurius want to murder Chlorus?’

  ‘To hide the fact that he hasn’t got an alibi for the time of Murena’s murder.’

  ‘But -’ she began. Then she paused and frowned. ‘Oh. Oh, I see. You mean that if Chlorus was lying about spending the evening with him –’

  ‘It’d be in his interests to shut the guy’s mouth, permanently. Right.’

  She was still frowning. ‘But he’d only do that if he’d killed Murena. And why should Ligurius want to kill Murena?’

  ‘Gods, Perilla, I don’t know! I’ve got a few theories, but that’s all they are. All the same, he’s on the list again with a vengea
nce, at least for the time being. The alibi question’s something else to check, and settling it one way or the other’s not outwith the bounds of possibility.’ I glanced out of the window again. We were just turning into the street with the gambling hall. ‘Forget the case for now. Here we are, lady; up and at ‘em. Blow on your dice-hand for luck.’

  ‘Superstition doesn’t come into it, dear,’ she said primly. ‘Winning at Twelve Lines is a science.’

  ‘Just do it, Aristotle.’

  The big fat German bouncer was standing outside. He opened the carriage door for us and pulled down the steps. Then he saw Perilla, and his eyebrows rose the half-inch that separated them from his hairline.

  ‘No women,’ he growled. ‘Is not allowed.’

  I’d been ready for this. ‘That’s okay, pal,’ I said easily in my best purple-striper drawl while I helped Perilla out. ‘It’s all arranged. The boss knows we’re coming.’

  Perilla gave the guy one of her best smiles - I could almost see his moustaches crinkle - and slipped past him before he could answer. I followed, a hand on her arm. So far, so good.

  The place was a lot busier than last time, and lit up like an oil-shipper’s wedding: yeah, well, in a gambling hall that’d be important, because if you can’t see the spots on the dice everyone’s in shtook. Upmarket clientele, too, but I’d been expecting that as well: most of the mantles in evidence had purple stripes to them, and the conversations round about us were thick with patrician vowel-sounds. A few straight-bridged noses turned in our direction and there was an almost audible clunk as the corresponding weak chins hit the tables. The noise in the immediate vicinity shifted down an appreciable notch. Maybe this was going to be fun after all.

  One of the girls - not the African, this time, but she was pretty well-endowed all the same - was heading towards us at speed, bowsprit well to the fore.

  ‘Just smile, lady,’ I whispered to Perilla out of the corner of my mouth, ‘and keep it buttoned, right? I’ll do the talking.’

  ‘Good evening, sir,’ the girl said. ‘I’m afraid –’

  ‘Are either Licinius Nerva or Aquillius Florus here tonight?’ I said.

  ‘No, sir. I’m sorry, but –’

  ‘Will they be in later, do you know? Either of them?’

  ‘It’s possible, but –’

  ‘That’s okay. We’re in no hurry, we can wait a bit.’ I went to move past her, but she didn’t shift.

  ‘I’m afraid ladies aren’t allowed in here, sir,’ she said firmly. ‘I’m sorry, but it’s the house rules.’

  ‘Oh, come on, sister! Surely –?’

  ‘I’m sorry, sir.’

  Impasse. Bugger. This was going to be even more difficult than I’d thought. Well, I’d tried. Maybe there’d be another opportunity to –

  ‘Corvinus! I want a word with you!’

  I turned round. Philippus was making his way between the tables, and he didn’t look too happy, either. Double bugger.

  ‘Ah...right. Right,’ I said.

  We were practically nose to chest now, and he was glaring up at me. He’d changed his tunic, sure, but it hadn’t improved his general appearance any: he still looked like he’d been dragged over a hurdle backwards. He jerked his chin to one side without taking his eyes off mine. ‘It’s okay, Calliope,’ he said. ‘I’ll handle this.’ The girl disappeared like magic. ‘Now. What the hell are you doing here?’

  I stepped back a pace. ‘Uh...I sort of thought from what you said last time I had an open invitation, pal,’ I said easily. ‘I just thought I’d take you up on it.’

  ‘You want to play?’

  ‘Not me. My wife. She’s...ah...pretty good.’

  ‘A pleasure to meet you, Licinius Philippus.’ Perilla gave the guy another of her best smiles. ‘Marcus has told me such a lot about you.’

  He was still frowning and his eyebrows had shot up like the German’s outside. ‘How did you get past Siegfried?’ he said.

  ‘We lied.’

  He stared at her for a good ten seconds. Then, suddenly his face split into a grin, and he laughed and turned back to me. ‘You’ve got nerve, I’ll say that for you,’ he said. ‘And in the lady’s case that goes double. How are the ribs?’

  ‘Still tender.’

  ‘Good. I’m glad.’ He sucked on a tooth and leaned back, considering. ‘Well, now, Valerius bloody Corvinus. Calliope’s right; we don’t let women in here, normally. But under the circumstances we’ll make an exception. I told you: we need to talk. And throwing you out won’t help either of us, will it?’

  ‘Suits me, pal.’ I’d things to say to Philippus myself, and now was as good a time as any.

  ‘Fine. Upstairs, same as before.’ He looked at Perilla. ‘Your wife’ll be okay. I’ll have one of the girls look after her while we have our chat. Give her a game, too, if that’s what she wants.’

  ‘Actually, uh, we were hoping to run across Aquillius Florus or Aulus Nerva.’

  That got me a long, considering stare. ‘Is that so, now?’ he murmured. ‘Makes two of us. Well, I doubt if Nerva’ll be in tonight. He’s had some family trouble. No doubt you’ve heard.’ I didn’t say anything. ‘It’s early still for Florus, but he may be along later. Hey, Calliope!’ He raised his voice. The girl with the bowsprit came back over. ‘See to the Lady...what was her name, Corvinus?’

  ‘Perilla,’ Perilla said.

  ‘See to the Lady Perilla. Anything she wants, anything at all. She’s my honoured guest. Okay, Corvinus. You come along with me.’

  We set off between the hushed tables and goggling punters towards the staircase, Philippus moving at his fast limp. Yeah, that’d be the legacy from the city judge’s strong-arm department twenty-eight years back that Saenius had mentioned. Jupiter, the guy must be tough! Me, I doubt if I could’ve stuck to a lie with those bastards working on me for five minutes. Philippus had done it right through to the end, no sweat, and whatever his reasons that’d taken real guts. Bastard or not, I admired him.

  The mezzanine was heaving, but this time no one so much as looked up. Philippus took the key from his belt and unlocked the office.

  ‘In you go,’ he grunted.

  I sat down in the chair I’d had the last time. Philippus closed the door and limped to the one behind the desk.

  ‘You’re a proper nosey bugger and no mistake, aren’t you?’ he said. ‘Persistent too.’

  I grinned. ‘Yeah. You could say that.’

  ‘I’m persistent myself. Not enough of us around. So tell me what you’ve found out and we’ll take it from there.’

  ‘You were Murena’s door-slave, thirty years back. You saw - or at least you claimed you saw - his first wife Fadia fall downstairs. You gave evidence for Murena at the trial, under torture.’

  ‘“Claimed”?’

  ‘My bet is you did a deal with Murena’s lawyer Tattius. You help him get his client off the hook and he’d see you got your freedom and enough cash to start you up in business.’

  Silence. Long silence. There wasn’t any friendliness in the guy’s face now. Finally, he said softly: ‘You’re a clever bugger, Corvinus. But Murena didn’t free me. I bought myself out. I told you that last time we spoke.’

  ‘Yeah, sure. But that was a technicality, wasn’t it? Tattius screwed the purchase price out of Murena after the trial and got him to agree to the sale. Murena may not have given you your freedom but he paid the money for it to himself.’

  Philippus scowled. ‘It was no technicality. I earned that money fair and square. Wherever it came from, it was mine at the time, and I paid it over in hard coin. You just remember that.’

  Jupiter! Back off, Corvinus!

  ‘Yeah. Yeah, okay,’ I said.

  ‘The bastard murdered my father. Had him flogged to death for dropping a fucking vase. You knew that as well?’

  ‘Not the details, no, but –’

  ‘Then he had the corpse fed to the fish. What I got through Tattius was blood money, owed twice over. Murena w
asn’t doing me no favours, and I wasn’t doing him any, either. It was pure quid pro quo. I’m a businessman, Corvinus, and I’ve always played fair. I do it now and I did it then.’

  ‘Tell me something,’ I said. ‘Did Murena push his wife or not?’

  That got me a long, considering look. Finally Philippus said: ‘Sure he did. I was there all right, down below in my cubby. I saw it all. He pushed her, no question.’

  ‘If you hated him bad enough you could’ve told the jury that.’

  Philippus laughed. ‘I could’ve done,’ he said. ‘I thought of it at the time. Holy Mercury, didn’t I just! Only what would happen then? I’d have to give my evidence under torture, and at the end of it I’d still be a slave. If I lived. Worse, I’d still be Murena’s slave because the bastard was a purple-striper and all he’d get was exile for a few years. Even if the dead woman’s brother had pushed for the death penalty and got it, I’d be his son’s slave, and Titus Chlorus was as bad as his father. How long do you think I’d live then, Corvinus? And if I did, where would it leave me?’

  Yeah; right. Still, it showed a train of logic you didn’t expect from your average skivvie. Certainly not from one the age Philippus was at the time. He’d been special, even then. ‘So when Tattius approached you you agreed to the deal,’ I said.

  Philippus laughed again. ‘Fuck that! Decimus Tattius couldn’t find his way out of a sack open at both ends. I went to him. I told him that I’d seen, what I’d seen, and if he wanted to save his pal I could do it for him. At a price. No haggling, take it or leave it. And if he didn’t agree, or welshed on me later, I’d take the real story to the mistress’s brother, whether it killed me or not. I meant every word, too, and he knew it. I owed my father that, at least.’

  Well, that made sense - more sense, I had to admit, knowing both Philippus and Tattius, than the other way round - and it came to the same thing in the end in any case. ‘You knew Tattius had been blackmailing Murena ever since? Or at least bleeding him for all he could get?’

  Philippus grinned. ‘Sure I did. Good luck to him. It was no skin off my nose, and the more the bastard bled the better I liked it. I hated Murena, Corvinus, and don’t you forget it. I was finished with him - I wouldn’t’ve touched that piece of shit with gloves on - but if he was still paying then that was fine by me. The two of them deserved each other. And the day I heard he was dead, and how, I sacrificed to my father’s ghost. You can’t tell me the eels were coincidence, and you needn’t try. You don’t buck the gods, boy.’