Trade Secrets [David Wishart] (fb2) читать постранично, страница - 2

welcome-home wine-cup, they hadn’t. There was one of them left.

Bugger.

‘You know Tullia Gemella, Marcus?’ Perilla said. She was looking a bit chewed.

‘Ah … yeah.’ I gave the lady sitting across from her a nod. An overstatement there: I knew the name, sure – one of the recent and extremely keen recruits, with a thing, according to Perilla, for lyric pieces involving shepherdesses, rustic swains, and a general atmosphere of bosk – but I’d never actually seen her in person. The adjectives ‘large’ and ‘imposing’ sprang to mind. Also the phrase ‘a strong personality’: even although the lady hadn’t opened her mouth yet, she just radiated self-possession, confidence, and a knowledge of her own considerable worth. So must Hannibal have looked when he was faced with the Alps and muttered: ‘I’ll bloody have you lot for a start!’

Well, it explained Perilla’s chewed look, anyway; in the time between the end of the poetry-klatsch meeting and my arrival, Things must’ve been Fraught.

‘Pleased to meet you, Tullia Gemella,’ I said. ‘I’ll just-’ I turned to go.

‘No, don’t leave, dear,’ Perilla said quickly. ‘We’ve been waiting for you to get back. Gemella wanted a word.’

‘Yeah? What about?’

‘Her brother’s been murdered.’

I’d been taking a sip of the wine, and I almost swallowed the cup.

‘What?’

‘Two days ago.’ Add an unlikely ‘prim’ to the list: Gemella’s tone and manner suggested that the guy had committed some sort of social faux pas. ‘At least, that’s when his body was found.’

I went over to my usual couch and lay down. Hell. Hell and damnation. So much for the quality time idea.

‘Gemella happened to mention it at the meeting,’ Perilla said brightly.

‘The silly fool got himself stabbed,’ the lady said. ‘In Trigemina Gate Street, of all places.’

The knee-jerk response was, Oh, dear! I’m sorry to hear that, but I stopped myself just in time from making it.

‘You like to elaborate, maybe?’ I said.

That got me a frown that suggested I’d just committed a social faux pas myself, but that she was prepared under the circumstances to overlook it. ‘Certainly,’ she said. ‘Shortly after sunset, two days ago, my brother Gaius Tullius was found stabbed to death at the Shrine of Melobosis in Trigemina Gate Street. Or rather, just off the street in question, because the shrine is a little way down an alley to one side. The body was discovered by a courting couple.’ She coughed. ‘Or so the local Watch told us. Seemingly the shrine is quite a popular venue with people of that sort.’

‘“Us”?’

‘Actually, his wife, to be precise. And she told me, the poor girl. Now I should say at the start, Valerius Corvinus, that I’d very little time for Gaius myself, brother or not, but he was family, and I understand from Rufia Perilla here that murder is quite a hobby of yours.’

The faintest of disapproving sniffs that suggested she put that on a par with screwing goats, but I let it pass; I’d be taking it up with the loose-mouthed lady later.

‘His wife being?’ I said.

‘Her name’s Annia. You’ll want to talk to her, no doubt. She and Gaius have a little pied-a-terre in Ardeatina Road, just past the Capenan Gate and overlooking Asinianus Gardens.’ Another sniff. ‘Not the best address, I know, and a long way from the centre, practically out of town altogether, but she seems to like it, which is the main thing.’

‘So what was your brother doing in Trigemina Gate Street? That’s the other side of the city.’

‘Ah,’ she said carefully. ‘I’m afraid in that regard I have no information to give you. He had his reasons, I’m sure, which may or may not, unfortunately, have been legitimate, Gaius being Gaius. Certainly he’d have business contacts near the river. Who and where precisely they might be I have no idea, but of course his partner would be able to tell you that.’

‘His partner?’

‘Gaius was a businessman, a merchant, rather, part-owner of an import-export business dealing mostly in glass and pottery. His partner’s name is Publius Poetelius. They have a small office on the Sacred Way near its Market Square end. Again I can’t give you precise details, but I’m sure anyone will be able to point you in the right direction if you ask.’

‘Fair enough,’ I said. ‘OK, lady. Now tell me what you’re not saying.’

That got me the frown again, in spades.

‘I beg your pardon?’ she snapped.

‘You say you didn’t like the guy, and that his reasons for being in Trigemina Gate Street might or might not have been legit, “Gaius being Gaius”. To me, that’s pretty conclusive. Your brother was some sort of crook, right?’

She bridled. ‘Certainly not! Or at least not as far as I’m aware.’

‘So what, then?’

Spots of colour appeared in her ample cheeks, fighting their way through the rouge.

‘Nothing of great import, at least in a criminal sense,’ she said at last. ‘He … spread his favours. Where women were concerned, I mean.’

I had to stop myself from laughing. Gods! So might a particularly prim Chief Vestal look and sound when asked in court to provide a detailed eyewitness description of a flasher.

‘You’re saying he had a mistress?’ I said.

The spots of colour deepened. ‘My brother was not one to do things by halves, Valerius Corvinus. Let alone quarters or eighths. I’m sure you understand me, but if you don’t then again I suggest you consult his partner on the matter. I expect Poetelius can tell you far more about that aspect of Gaius’s character than I can.’

‘Did his wife know?’

‘I’d be very surprised if she didn’t, poor woman, but I wouldn’t care to comment further on the subject.’ She stood up. ‘Now I really have taken up enough of your time. The rest is up to you. Perilla, my dear, thank you so much for a most enjoyable meeting. A pleasure, as always.’

And she was gone. Perilla and I were left looking at each other. The lady was having the decency to look sheepish, as well she might under the circumstances.

‘Who the hell’s Melobosis?’ I said.

‘One of the Oceanides. Not a particularly prominent nymph. I didn’t know she even had a shrine in Rome.’ Perilla cleared her throat. ‘Look, I’m sorry for landing you with this, Marcus, particularly when we’ve got Clarus and Marilla staying, but Gemella was quite … pressing.’ Yeah, that I’d believe. Like half a ton of marble. ‘And she really is genuinely upset, far more than she seemed. Of course, if you’d rather, I can tell her you can’t help.’ She paused, frowning. ‘Or perhaps sending her a note to that effect would be better.’

I grinned; it wasn’t often the lady chickened out of a head-to-head: strong personality was right. And despite what I’d said to Clarus, it’d be nice to be looking into a clean, straightforward murder again; it might get the nasty taste of the Surdinus affair out of my mouth, for a start. ‘No, that’s OK,’ I said. ‘I can have a word with the wife, at least. See what she says. It’s really her business, after all, because Gemella’s only the guy’s sister. I’ll do that tomorrow.’

Which is what I did.

TWO

Next morning I left Perilla to snooze on as usual – not an early-morning person, the lady – and went down to breakfast on the terrace. Clarus and Marilla were up already, Marilla tucking into her usual light breakfast of omelette, cheese, olives, dried fruit, bread rolls, and honey, with young Marcus gurgling away and blowing bubbles in his basket beside her.

‘You’re around early, Corvinus.’ Clarus was like me: a straightforward breakfast-roll-dipped-in-olive-oil man. ‘Going somewhere special?’

At dinner the previous evening I’d been careful to avoid, at Perilla’s insistence, any mention of Tullia Gemella’s visit. Clarus would’ve been interested, certainly, but that would’ve been as far as it went. Marilla was another matter. Adopted or not, she’s a lot like me in many ways: she’d’ve insisted on the full gory details, as far as I could give them, and she’d’ve wanted to be involved. Oh, sure, I was under no illusions, and neither was Perilla: being Marilla she’d find out eventually what was going on, and pretty soon at that. But I wasn’t going to precipitate things, because if I did then the lady had made it abundantly