That's what I like about Perilla: she's got a lovely way with words. 'Yeah, that's what I thought,' I said. 'Cut it how you like, it smells. Sure, they didn't exactly give the impression they'd been swapping sisterly confidences before I arrived over the home-made must cake, but there was something screwy going on somewhere. And one thing I can't get out of my head.'
'What's that?'
'We're running round in circles trying to link Navius's murder with Clusinus's, right?' She nodded. 'Vipena's wine scam – or Tolumnius's, if you like – would give a motive for the first, but it doesn't explain the second. Or if it does the connection's not obvious. But put these two lovelies together and the problem disappears.'
'In what way?'
'Thupeltha had a motive for killing Navius, okay? The guy was threatening to make trouble, split the marriage, and that broke all her rules. Clusinus was different: she'd no quarrel with him because the only thing the guy was interested in was a casual affair. So as far as Thupeltha's concerned motive-wise, then, tick Navius and scratch Clusinus. Vesia, on the other hand, has no beef with Navius. Her problem is she's stuck with a bastard of a husband who spends his time out tomcatting. Okay, so the consensus of opinion is that she's ready to make the best of a bad job and bring up her kids in honest poverty, at least honest on her side.' I shifted on the bench. 'But what if she's not the mousey little housewife people think she is? Clusinus owns the property. If there's a divorce she's out in the cold with two kids on her hands. Now with the guy dead she inherits. It may not be much, but if she sold up it'd give her enough for a fresh start someplace else. And on Thupeltha's side getting rid of a woman who's already planted a hook in her husband would be a definite plus.'
Perilla was staring at me in shock. 'Marcus, let me get this straight,' she said. 'You're saying they might have planned the murders together?'
'Why not? They'd both benefit in different ways, and like I say, it fits the facts like nothing else does.'
'But that's horrible!'
'It's a tenable theory. All there is against it is Thupeltha's claim that she wasn't involved and the impression Vesia gives of being the goody-goody housewife. Personally I wouldn't risk any bets now on either being true.'
'You're forgetting Papatius. If Vesia were as genuinely fond of him as she seems to be she wouldn't have put him in the position of prime suspect. Nor would Thupeltha, for that matter.'
I shook my head. 'No, I'm not,' I said. 'Papatius needn't've been a suspect at all. Not if you go back to the beginning. He brought that on himself, partly at least. The day Navius was murdered Thupeltha left him pitching wine jars. If he'd stayed back home instead of following Thupeltha the Gruesomes wouldn't've seen him heading for Clusinus's track. And even as things turned out Vesia could alibi him herself. He's only in jug now because I fingered him and Gaius Aternius is the kind of pig-headed bastard who ignores facts because they don't fit his theories. Besides, if I'm right the case should've been open and shut from the beginning because the obvious killer was already to hand.'
'And who was that?'
'Titus Clusinus.'
'But –' Perilla stopped. Then she said, more slowly: 'Oh. Oh, yes. I see.'
'Right. The killing was done on Clusinus's property. If Priscus hadn't happened along and screwed everything up the way Priscus does it would've been Clusinus who found the body, and six gets you ten Thupeltha would've been the first person the guy met. Put those facts together and once she'd told her story even if Clusinus had denied killing Navius until he was blue in the face the poor sucker'd've been in jug and legally strangled faster than you can spit. Two birds with one stone.'
'But what about motive? On Clusinus's part, I mean. And what possible reason could Thupeltha have given for being there in the first place?'
'There's always jealousy, one boyfriend killing the other, but that would've been a last resort. In the event I doubt if motive would've been an issue. Clusinus was Vetuliscum's bad boy. No one had a good word for the guy, there would've been enough circumstantial evidence stacked against him to convict him twice over with the locals, and the authorities wouldn't've cared a plugged copper coin so long as someone was chopped. As for Thupeltha, she could either say she was on her way to visit Vesia – which Vesia, being an accomplice, would've confirmed – or if the fact of the rendezvous with Navius did come out she could stick to the story she told that he'd run off and left her back at the grove. Whereas really they'd met further up the track and she'd knifed him herself.'
'But what about her claim that he'd threatened suicide?'
'That only came later, after Priscus had found the body and the whole plan was shot to hell. She had to say that. If Clusinus weren't to be the prime suspect after all then Thupeltha had to cover herself somehow. And it left her free to arrange another clandestine meeting with Clusinus and finish the job another way. Which she had to do to keep Vesia's mouth shut.'
Perilla stared at the opposite wall for a long time. Then she said softly:
'Corvinus, you have a really nasty mind. You know that?'
I grinned. 'It's only a theory. But it works. And it explains something else, too.'
'What might that be?'
'Vesia's attitude to Thupeltha. The way things've turned out, the deal's gone sour. Instead of Clusinus being set up for Navius's murder, he's one of the victims and the guy the authorities have fingered is Larth Papatius. Thupeltha's a cold-minded bitch. If it's a question of her husband being nailed instead of her she's happy to go along with that. Vesia's different. Like you say, she's genuinely fond of the guy, only she's caught in a cleft stick: she can't save him without reopening the whole can of worms, and if she does that she risks everything. Sure, she's got what she wants–- her husband's dead, she's home and dry – but in return she has to play along with her partner. And if Aternius won't accept Papatius's alibi for Navius's murder and insists that Papatius being in jug is no hindrance to his having killed Clusinus then she's got no way out. All she can do is send me off down another track and hope the mare's-nest at the end of it'll get him off somehow. But she's going to absolutely hate Thupeltha.'
'What about Hilarion? You still haven't explained his death.'
'Perilla, I don't know about Hilarion, okay? Obviously the guy saw something, or found something out, or otherwise stuck his nose in where he shouldn't have, but where he fits in is a complete mystery.' I closed my eyes. 'I'm tired and my brain hurts.'
'I'm not surprised.' She kissed me. 'Leave it for now. Let's go and eat.'
That was fine with me. Yeah, well. Maybe Thupeltha was our killer after all. But if so, how did I prove it?
26.
Maybe the bath wasn't such a good idea after all: after we'd eaten I crashed out on the dining room couch, and when I woke up it was too late to do anything else.
Not that I had anything else to do. We'd reached a dead end here. There were plenty of theories, sure, but they pointed in half a dozen different directions at once. What I needed were hard facts, and at that precise moment I had about as much idea how to go about getting them as a rhino has of crochet.
The hell with it; Papatius could take his chances, for another day, at least. I had family commitments, and anyway the case needed time to settle.
I broke the glad news to the Princess over breakfast next morning.
'You still want some company on your trip to Pyrgi, Bright-eyes?' I said.
Her face lit up; at least, what I could see of it behind the half omelette she was stuffing it with. It was her third, and Meton doesn't skimp these things. I reckoned our stepdaughter had put away most of the villa's egg production single-handed since we'd been here; certainly the chickens were looking seriously harassed. Eggs the girl can eat.
'You're coming?' she said.
'Why not? I've nothing better to do.' I nibbled at a crust of bread soaked in olive oil: breakfasts have never been my thing, not the solid variety anyway, and Perilla had broken me of the other kind years ago. 'Besides, bears are my
favourite animal. Especially fricasséed with juniper berries. Joke.'
'You're sure, Marcus?' Perilla said.
'Well, maybe not juniper berries. Plum sauce.'
'I'll go and saddle Corydon.' The Princess crammed in the other half of the omelette and raced off.
I watched her go. 'Hell’s teeth! She's taking that brute? I'd kind of thought in terms of Lysias and the coach.'
'We can go with Lysias.' Perilla leaned over and kissed me. 'And Corydon's not a brute. He's really quite sweet when you get to know him.'
Oh, Silenus! Maybe the lady was going soft on me. Still, if Marilla wanted to trust herself to that moth-eaten clothes rack that was her business. 'You, uh, have any other plans for things to do when we get there?' I said cautiously. 'Besides Alexis's bear, I mean?'
'There's a nice old temple of Velchans I'd like to see. The pediment and cult statue are supposed to be quite impressive.'
Yeah, I'd thought as much. There's always a temple. And whoever the hell Velchans was he could keep his bloody pediment as far as I was concerned. 'Is that right, now?'
Perilla was grinning. 'Oh, I'm sure there'll be a wineshop somewhere nearby,' she said. 'We can drop you there and pick you up when we've finished.'
I brightened. A day out with the family's one thing, but sightseeing's another. And making the acquaintance of a new wineshop is always a pleasure.
'Fine,' I said.
'Then of course there's the shrine of Nortia, the sanctuary of Vertumnus, and if we have time....'
I stopped listening. Well, to each his bag. I just hoped the wine was good. I was going to need it.
We saw the bear. I'd been afraid it might be one of those sad buggers with a chain through its nose that street musicians drag around and have a boy prod with a stick to make it dance – Marilla would've hated that – but it was a plump, cheerful little bastard the size of a big dog that was more of a family pet than anything else. The owner let Marilla feed it with lumps of bread soaked in honey, and the kid had the time of her life. Finally, about two hours later, we called it a day, washed them both down with a sponge and a couple of pails of water, and headed off to look for for Perilla's temple.
It wasn't all that far from the harbour, which was all I noticed about the place. I waved Perilla and the Princess goodbye at the steps and left them to their pediments. The lady had been right, as usual: just up the road was a tight little wineshop with a plane tree outside and an interesting collection of wines on the slate. Top of the list was a cut- price Falernian, but remembering Vipena I gave it a miss and settled for a jug of Privernatian, a plate of the local goat's cheese and a bunch of fresh-picked dessert grapes. Good choice: Privernatian's not one of your absolute top wines, but for sitting outside under a plane tree on a hot day watching the world go by you could do a lot worse, especially if it's cellar-cooled and the alternative's a temple. The place's owner was quite an interesting guy, too; he had a cousin who ran a wineshop I'd been into once or twice near the Livian Portico on the slopes of the Esquiline, and we swapped memories of low life in the Subura until my bladder filled up enough to make the trip across the street to the local urinal something I couldn't put off any longer.
I suppose my brain registered the fact that someone had come in behind me, but I didn't pay him any attention: I had most of a jug of wine inside me and besides my nasty suspicious mind was out for the day gathering rosebuds. In the event I was happily adding my contribution to the Pyrgi Launderers' and Dyers' Guild's stocks of mantle-cleaning fluid when the latrine's roof collapsed, smacking me above the right ear, and everything went black.
I woke with a splitting headache and the knowledge that I had major problems. The biggest of these was leaning against the wall next to the only way out, watching me.
'That's him coming round now, boss,' he said over his shoulder without taking his eyes off me.
'Thank you, Baro.' Uh-oh. I knew that voice, sure I did. Well, at least they'd left my hands and feet free. Mind you, the way I felt at that moment I couldn't've fought past a five-year-old kid armed with a rag doll, let alone Big Bad Baro with the lump of seasoned oakwood he was hefting. If that was what he'd hit me with then I was lucky to wake up this side of the Winter Festival.
Baro moved aside and Titus Tolumnius came into the room. With three of us in it the place was looking pretty crowded. I'd guess, from the sacks I'd been propped against, we were in a small storeroom somewhere in the Tolumnius pottery. Which was more bad news, if I'd needed it.
Who the hell had suggested coming to Pyrgi anyway?
'How're you feeling, Corvinus?' Tolumnius asked.
Gods. As far as pointless, inane questions went that one took the nuts.
'You know what can happen to you for belting a five-star Roman purple- striper in a public lavatory, pal?' I said. Or that was what I thought I said; my tongue wasn't working too well either.
He grunted. 'You were warned. Still, if it's any consolation Baro was told to bring you in peaceable.'
'Is that so, now?' I reached up and touched the lump on my head. It was as big as a duck's egg, it hurt like hell, and it felt like a tacky sponge. 'Then we've got a problem here with basic semantics, friend. Or maybe your tame gorilla's a sadistic bastard with serious hearing difficulties. You like to choose, perhaps?'
'Shut it, Roman,' Baro growled.
'I'll handle this, Baro.' Tolumnius sat down on one of the sacks. He hadn't so much as given the other guy a glance. 'You've only yourself to blame, Corvinus. Like I say you were warned. And we had to talk.'
'About the murders of Attus Navius and Titus Clusinus?'
'Sure. Among other things.' Tolumnius leaned back against the wall. 'Baro, get Valerius Corvinus some water.'
Baro shifted. 'But, boss –'
'Do it.' His eyes hadn't left my face. He waited until the big guy had gone. 'Now. You think I was responsible, right?'
'You or your slippery cousin. Sure. Why Clusinus I don't know, but Navius –'
Tolumnius held up a hand. 'I'd nothing to do with Navius's death,' he said. 'Nor as far as I know had Gnaeus. Let's get that clear from the start.'
'Yeah?'
'Yeah.' He was looking at me straight, not smiling. 'Oh, I thought about it, sure. If the boy hadn't died we might've had to make certain arrangements, but in the event it wasn't necessary because someone else made them for us. Clusinus I'd never even heard of. That's part of what I brought you here to say.' The eyes bored into me. They were hard as chips of marble. 'The other part's to tell you one last time to get the hell off my back.'
'You chose a pretty drastic way of fixing up a meeting, friend. And why should I believe you all of a sudden?'
'Corvinus, listen. I'm a businessman, right? Hassle I can do without, and unlike Baro I'm no fool. If it's of any interest to you he wanted to put a knife between your ribs and get my brother to drop you over the side of his boat somewhere between here and Ostia. I could still let him have his way, but I wanted to try negotiation first. If that doesn't work, well, I'll have to think again.' His voice was calm, matter-of-fact. My stomach went cold and I said nothing. 'The four of us have been running this business for quite a few years. We're not greedy, and we don't harm anyone, but that doesn't mean I'm ready to sit back and let it go down the tubes just because some smartass Roman gets a fancy idea into his head and starts making waves. Clear?'
'What about Vipena? I sort of got the impression he was bowing out and taking the scam with him.'
'Gnaeus is a gutless wonder. I'll deal with him in my own way.' I must've looked as shocked as I felt because he chuckled. 'Oh, no; no killing. The windy bastard's family, and I don't hurt family, not unless I have to. But the other three of us have too much invested to give up that easy. We'll make him see sense. Only it'd help if he didn't have you nosing around making him nervous. You get me?'
I swallowed. 'Yeah. I get you.'
'Good. I was hoping you would. I really was.' He looked up. 'Ah. Here's Baro with your water.'
>
The big guy came in holding a cup and a jug. He handed them over like he was the jailer passing Socrates the hemlock and stood back while I drank. Neat Setinian would've been better, and he must've taken the stuff from the bucket they used to wash down the pots, but I wasn't in any position to complain.
Tolumnius waited until I'd finished. 'Now,' he said, 'I told you I was a businessman. I don't expect to get something for nothing. Give me your word you'll leave us alone in future and we'll trade.'
I set the cup down slowly. 'Trade what?'
'Your word first.'
What did I have to lose? I was just surprised I was being given the choice. 'Sure,' I said. 'You've got it, as far as the scam goes, at any rate. All I'm interested in's solving the murders; where whacky Falernian's concerned for all I care you can sell it by the bargeload and give the Wart a cash discount.'
Tolumnius glanced at Baro. The guy didn't look exactly cheerful, but he grunted and nodded. 'Fine,' he said. He stretched out his hand and we shook. 'We have a deal. Keep that well in mind and you won't be troubled further.'
'What about this trade?'
'I said I'd never heard of Titus Clusinus. That was true.' Tolumnius stood up. 'But since the murder I've made it my business to find out.'
'Yeah?'
'I'll give you a name. Just a name: seeing where it leads is your affair, and there're no guarantees, but it may help. Agreed?'
'Agreed.'
He gave me another of his marble-chip stares. Then he looked away.
'A man called Aulus Herminius Bubo. He has a business in Caere, in Lampmakers' Street, off the market square.'
Hey! 'Aulus Bubo, you say?'
Tolumnius's eyes came back to me, fast. 'You've heard of him already?'
'Only by his first name. At least, maybe I have.' I got up, too. The room spun a bit and I held onto the wall until it steadied. 'Thanks, pal, I'm much obliged. I assume I'm free to go now?'
Tolumnius shrugged. 'Sure,' he said. 'Free as air. Just don't forget we have an agreement; not now, not never. And leave Gnaeus alone.' He turned to Baro. 'See Valerius Corvinus gets back safely. He's still a bit delicate.'
Old Bones (Marcus Corvinus Book 5) Page 17
