'Okay,' I said. 'Let's turn him over and see what we've got.'
I took the nearest arm and tugged. The dead man rolled onto his back and lay staring open-eyed at the cloudless sky. He wasn't a pretty sight: the pool had been half mud, and the red clay coated him from head to foot as if he'd been dipped in blood.
He was fairly young – mid-thirties, a couple of years older than me – and he'd been well set up: tall, big-boned, plenty of flesh but most of it muscle. Good-looking, too, from what I could tell under the mud and all things considered. And I'd never seen him before in my life.
All of which put together could mean only one thing. Titus Clusinus's tomcatting days were over for good.
'Was he murdered?'
I looked back at Marilla standing behind my shoulder. Her eyes were sparkling and she was staring down at what was left of Clusinus like he was the answer to a teenage girl's prayer. So; the kid took after Perilla as well as me. That lady never does what she's told either.
'Yeah,' I said. 'He was murdered.'
That made it three, in as many days. Someone was going for the record.
I sent Marilla straight back home, no arguments, then stayed with the body while Alexis went to round up a few guys with a stretcher. They'd take him back to his own place, of course, and I wished I'd had Alexis drop by there and break the news gently; not that I'd bet Vesia would be too upset. Still, Alexis was a smart cookie and he might think of it for himself.
I didn't have anything to carry water in, but I sloshed a few handfuls from the pool over Clusinus to wash off some of the clay. The face was puffy and waterlogged; I was no expert, but from his condition I'd say he'd been under for more than just a few hours. And that was strange, because I'd got the impression from Vesia that the guy was only out, not missing. That hurdle was odd, too: there weren't any others lying around in the immediate vicinity. On the other hand, I could see plenty in the field below, two hundred yards off. It must've been fetched from there special. And hurdles may not be all that heavy, but for one man they're a bugger to carry or drag.
So. What had we got? This wasn't Clusinus's property, although it was near the border, so he must've had a reason for being here; maybe he'd arranged to meet someone, or been suckered into thinking he would. Whatever the reason, having got him where they wanted him the killer had smacked him on the head with some sort of sharp, heavy instrument, a mattock maybe, and pitched him in the pool to drown. Unless the blow had killed him outright, of course. Then they'd gone down to the next field and brought up the hurdle, laid it on top of the body and weighted it down with stones. These, at least, weren't a problem: we were right at the edge of the farm here, outside the main cultivated area, and there were plenty lying around. Still, it would all have taken time and effort; and if Marilla could see the pool from above then so could any other passer-by, so it would've been risky, too.
Why not just leave the guy where he lay, like Hilarion? Why bother with all this hurdle crap?
To hide the body, obviously. It had been sheer luck that it had come to light so quickly at all. If the Princess hadn't happened along, if the hurdle had stayed submerged, if Papatius the owner of the property hadn't been under arrest in Caere and out of the picture, Clusinus could've lain there for days. Longer. Why should that be important? Important enough to take risks over?
That was another question I didn't have the answer to. They were piling up.
Alexis showed up finally. He'd found Mamilius sitting on the wineshop terrace. The old guy had rounded up his son and his two 'boys' – fifty, if they were a day – and come straight here. They hadn't bothered with a stretcher, but they unloaded the rocks and hauled the hurdle out of the pool.
While they were busy I took Alexis aside.
'Was Thupeltha around?' I asked quietly.
The slave grapevine is pretty efficient, and Alexis already knew the background. Also, like I say, he was no fool. He gave me a look and nodded.
'You tell her what'd happened?'
'Not directly, sir. But she heard me tell Mamilius.'
'Uh-huh. She make any comment? React in any particular way?'
'No, sir.'
'Which question's that an answer to?'
'Both.' Alexis's voice was neutral. 'She didn't seem particularly put out, sir. Or surprised.'
Well, that made sense. I couldn't imagine Thupeltha shedding tears for anyone. And certainly whatever she'd had going with Clusinus didn't involve much outside the basics.
'Decimus and the boys'll take him back the short way round.' Mamilius had come over. 'I'll go ahead myself to warn Vesia that he's coming.'
'It's Clusinus right enough?' I said.
'It's Clusinus.' Mamilius's voice was matter-of-fact, even cheerful, and it had me feeling almost sorry for the dead man. I wondered if I'd be the only one who did.
'You don't seem exactly broken up about it,' I said.
Mamilius grinned and looked round at where the slaves were lifting the corpse onto the hurdle. 'Can't pretend I am,' he said. 'I always knew the bastard would come to a bad end. And once Vesia's got over the shock she'll realise it's the best thing that could've happened.'
'Yeah.' I sighed; well, maybe the guy was right. I hadn't known Clusinus myself, but from what I'd heard he was no loss and the marriage was going nowhere. Still... I walked over to where I'd left my horse tethered to an oleander stump. 'Okay, we'll leave you to it. Come on, Alexis.'
I untied the lead rein and mounted. I was wheeling the horse to ride down the path to the main road when Decimus suddenly dropped his corner of the hurdle, spilling the corpse onto the ground. He ran towards me, waving his arms and gibbering. My blood went cold, and I pulled back on the rein. The horse shied...
'Decimus!' For a guy who'd been around when Actium was fought Mamilius could move pretty fast. He threw himself at his son and grabbed his arm. The idiot stopped dead, then burst out laughing.
I brought the horse under control finally – I'm no horseman, and I was pretty shaken myself – and patted her trembling flank.
'I'm sorry about that.' Mamilius was still holding on, although the big guy seemed quiet enough now. 'He didn't mean anything, he was just playing. Decimus, you'll apologise to Valerius Corvinus.'
The idiot gave me a hangdog look like a six-year-old kid caught with his spoon in the jam jar and muttered something. I shrugged and tried to stop my hands from shaking. Alexis was wide-eyed, but the two slaves were watching with incurious faces.
'That's okay,' I said. 'No harm done. I'll catch you around, Mamilius.'
Alexis mounted up on his mule and we rode back down through the vineyard towards the Caere road and home. My brain was buzzing all the way.
17.
It was dinner time when we got back. Gods, that'd been some day! I was absolutely knackered, my belly thought my throat was cut and I'd bet I smelled like a barrel of stoats. I could murder a hot bath, a square meal and an early night. Still, first things first. Bathyllus was waiting with the wine jug and cup, and I downed a straight half pint.
'Perilla and the kid around, little guy?' I said.
'On the terrace, sir. I was just about to serve dinner.' He refilled the wine cup. 'And Meton would like a personal word with you when it's convenient.'
I groaned. Oh, shit, not Meton! Domestic problems I could do without at this stage, and knowing that single-minded bastard it could be anything from an interrupted pickle supply to a complaint about the quality of Flatworm's fish sauce. Certainly nothing more earth-shaking: Meton's sense of priorities didn't exactly mirror what you'd call normal.
'He deign to give any indication what it's about?' I said.
'No, sir. And I didn't ask.'
Uh-oh. So there'd been ructions below-stairs again and the staff weren't on speaking terms. Bathyllus and Meton were like cat and dog: Meton was the original born-again anarchist, while the slightest change in household routine sent Bathyllus up the wall. Worse, the little guy didn't know a boletaria from a sartago a
nd he couldn't care less. I was just waiting for the day when either we'd find our major-domo stiff and cold with a filleting knife between his ribs or our chef ditto with a feather duster shoved down his throat. 'Okay,' I said, 'tell the guy to make it after we've eaten. You manage that yourself or should I give you a flag of truce and a note?'
'No, sir.' A sniff. 'That won't be necessary.'
'Fine. Fine.' I took the jug from him and carried it out onto the terrace.
Perilla and the Princess were already sitting at the table. I kissed Perilla and sat down on the other chair: that's the trouble with dining al fresco, no couches where you can sprawl, but we were in the country and the lady preferred the open air.
'So who was it?' Perilla asked.
'Clusinus.' I took a swallow of wine. 'Well, that's one suspect less, anyway. Maybe we'll be lucky and lose a few more.'
Perilla was quiet. 'He was married with a family, wasn't he?' she said at last. 'Do they know yet?'
'Quintus Mamilius said he'd break the news. But I doubt if his wife would be too upset.' I gave her an outline of my interview with Vesia.
'Perilla, isn't it exciting?' The Princess was still on a high. 'Three murders! Three! And I've never found a corpse before.'
Jupiter on wheels! Bathyllus and his minions were bringing out the starters, so I quickly shoved a plate of puréed squash and a hunk of bread in the Princess's direction. In Marilla's case I'd found the best method of sidetracking was to throw food at her.
'Here, Bright-Eyes,' I said. 'Get yourself round that and cut the crowing. It's not ladylike.'
Marilla tore off a piece of crust and scooped up some of the purée. 'He was under a hurdle,' she said through a mouthful of squash. 'Why would the murderer do that, Corvinus? Why drown him?'
Ah, hell; so much for parental authority. Still, it showed an enquiring mind, and it was a reasonable question. More than reasonable. 'He could've been drowned, sure,' I said, reaching for a plate of hard-boiled eggs in mustard sauce. 'But he was hit on the head first. And as for the hurdle, the intention would've been to keep the body out of sight.'
Perilla was frowning. I thought she was going to tick Marilla off for being too gruesome, or maybe just for speaking with her mouth full, but she said: 'You're sure about that, Marcus?'
I glanced at her. 'It seems a fair assumption. You have any other ideas?'
'No.' Perilla was thoughtfully spooning cucumber salad onto her plate. 'It's just that Marilla's right. It is a rather odd way of going about things.'
'Yeah. The same thought occurred to me.' I took a sip of wine. 'Especially since he'd have to bring the hurdle up from elsewhere.'
'When was Clusinus killed?'
'God knows. From the look of him he'd been in the pond for a while, maybe over a day...' I set down the cup. 'Shit!'
'Marcus!' Perilla snapped.
'Yeah, sorry.' My brain was whirling. Oh, Jupiter! Sweet holy Jupiter! 'Just a sudden thought. One I should've had before.'
'That is no excuse for bad language at the table.'
'I don't mind,' Marilla said.
'Then you should, dear. If –'
I waved her to silence. 'Hold on, Perilla. This is important. If the guy had been dead more than a day then we're back to square one.'
'Marcus, I hardly think –'
'Look. Larth Papatius was only arrested this morning, right? If Clusinus was killed before that then Papatius could still have done it.'
'Yes, but Papatius was with Vesia when Navius was murdered. Surely–?' Perilla stopped. 'Oh. Oh, dear. Yes. I see what you mean.'
'Yeah. We only have Vesia's word that he was at her place, not even Papatius's. And with the third corpse being Clusinus's it opens up a whole new can of worms.'
'You think that Vesia and Papatius could have been in it together?' Perilla laid down her spoon. 'Marcus, that's horrible!'
'It's possible. Better than possible. Lots of people including Papatius may have had a motive for killing Navius, but Clusinus is a different matter. Sure, he wasn't popular, but so what? Papatius, on the other hand, has motive in spades: he was in love with the dead man's wife.'
'But he's already married!'
'There's such a thing as divorce. Maybe this new situation – with Thupeltha going for Clusinus – finally pushed him over the edge; or maybe he did it out of pure altruism. Papatius is a complicated cookie: personally I wouldn't like to predict which way he'd jump. And, like I say, he'd have reasons.'
'What about Vesia?'
'She needn't've been involved at all, not directly. Sure, she'd have to lie to me about Papatius having been with her when Navius was stabbed, and do it convincingly, but she's just as crazy about him as he is about her. I reckon under these circumstances she might manage it, especially since she's convinced he didn't do it anyway.'
'And her husband? You said yourself she'd simply told you he'd gone out. If he'd been missing for over a day she would have had to lie about that as well.'
'Not necessarily. Vesia's no Thupeltha; she's a faithful wife. I'd imagine it wouldn't be the first time Clusinus had spent a night away from home, and Vesia's the type who'd cover up rather than blab, especially to a stranger. In fact, that's an argument for her not knowing anything about the death. She may be a good actress but I doubt she's that good. I'd bet the first she knew the guy was dead was when old Mamilius told her this afternoon.'
'You still haven't explained the hurdle. Why hide the body?'
'Yeah.' I frowned. 'That's still a bummer. Unless Papatius knew he was going to be arrested this morning and didn't want it found before then.' Shit, no. I discounted that angle as soon as I'd thought of it. It was stretching things too far; Papatius couldn't have known, and if he had the guy wasn't that subtle. 'Perilla, I just don't know about the hurdle, right? It's like Hilarion's death, it makes no sense.'
'Unless someone wanted to make sure Papatius was still a suspect.'
I'd been reaching for the wine jug. I paused.
'Run that one past me again,' I said.
'Certainly.' Perilla picked up her spoon and scooped up a slice of cucumber. 'Let's say that Vesia is telling the truth. Clusinus was out all day, but not all night. If that's so, and you're not sure how long he'd been in the pond, then he could have been murdered this morning. If the body were left lying out in the open, as Hilarion's was, it would probably have been spotted quite quickly. However if the body were not obvious –'
'Then when it was finally found there'd be nothing to show one way or the other whether the guy had died after the arrest or before. And the longer it stayed hidden the better.' I nodded. 'Yeah, well, it's a tenable theory. The problem is, proving it either way depends on Vesia.'
'Surely she could simply be asked when she last saw her husband, this morning or yesterday?'
'Perilla, Vesia knows Papatius was arrested this morning and she doesn't want him nailed for killing Clusinus. The lady's not stupid. Truth or not, what answer do you think she'll give?'
'Then perhaps someone else saw him.'
'It's possible, sure. But it isn't likely.'
'Why not?'
'The pool's near the border of the two properties. He'd be on his own ground for most of the way, then on Papatius's. Besides, I don't think the guy wanted to be seen. I think he was meeting someone.'
'A woman? Thupeltha?'
'Not Thupeltha. They already had a place, in the oak grove on Clusinus's own land, and there was no reason to change the arrangement. On the other hand, Clusinus was off his own property and that argues a meeting of some kind.' I stirred the egg round on my plate, then put the spoon down in favour of my wine cup. 'The question is, why the hell there? If the killer came with murder and a hidden body in mind he could've chosen a dozen better places. The irrigation pond's got nothing going for it. There's no cover, it's exposed to view from above -'
'Perhaps that's the reason, Marcus. It wasn't the killer's choice of venue at all. It was Clusinus's.'
'And he thought he
might be in danger if he chose somewhere more sheltered?' That opened up some interesting hypothetical lines I hadn't considered; it would imply that Clusinus knew a lot more about Navius's death and who had killed him than he'd said he did, for a start. 'Yeah, that might pass, but if so why not choose really safe ground, near the main road, for example? We're left with the same fundamental problem: why the pond at all?'
'So the killer could use the hurdle, of course.' That was the Princess. She'd been working her way through the starters and now she was coming up for air.
I didn't laugh. Crazy as it sounded, it was as good an explanation as any I could give, and it killed the two birds of the pool and the hurdle with one stone. The trouble was, assuming the murderer wasn't a total unmotivated head-banger it made no sense.
Bathyllus was oiling up with the main course, and my stomach rumbled in anticipation. Hell, shelve everything for the present, this looked good: a loin of pork stuffed with apricots and dotted with rosemary and garlic and a roast capon covered by a rich sauce. Plus the sundries. I topped up my wine cup and dug in.
By the time we'd all had enough and were ready to move on to the fruit and nuts the table was looking pretty empty. I pushed back my chair, set my feet against the terrace wall and called Bathyllus over. The beast had been fed. Now it was time for the master of the house to fulfil his duty to his staff. However unpleasant that might be.
'Hey, little guy,' I said. 'You want to tell Meton we're ready for him now?'
'What's this about, dear?' As Bathyllus left, Perilla laid down her napkin.
I shrugged. 'Jupiter knows. Or possibly he doesn't, because not even Bathyllus has an inkling. Sit back with me and marvel.'
I'd been right about the ructions: Bathyllus brought the chef out like he was escorting a leper. Meton's a big guy, almost as broad as he's long, with hairy arms that wouldn't disgrace a gorilla, and he was looking straight ahead of him with the lowering intensity I'd come to know and love since I'd bought him at enormous expense from a Cappadocian gastronome twelve years back.
Old Bones (Marcus Corvinus Book 5) Page 11
