"Look around you, Marcus," said Helena abruptly.
I had hardly taken in the layout and styling of this villa. That was partly due to the crisis, but also I felt I was in familiar surroundings. Now I saw what Helena meant. We had ended up in reception rooms that could be part of the 'old house' back at the palace. I suppose it was natural. Marcellinus was the architect. He would impose his personal style. Yet the similarities were eerie…
Its floor had multi-coloured cut work stones… a calm geometry of pale wine-juice red, aqua blue, dull white, shades of grey, and corn. Well, well. There was a blue-black dado and a painted cornice with an effect just like plaster bathed in evening light. Glancing from the window (fine-quality hardwood with long-life workmanship) I could see that the exterior materials were all equally familiar too, especially the grey stone, close to marble, which I knew came from a fine British quarry on the coast. The huge bath house looked just like the one at the palace.
Helena stood at my shoulder.
"I presume," she murmured, 'the aristocracy will have seen the King's palace and want their private homes to be just as grand. Friends and family of Togidubnus in particular."
"Agreed. And Marcellinus was best placed to ensure his villa had positively the best of everything. So he shows Britain how to adopt Romanisation -right down to our sophisticated corrupt practices."
Helena pretended this came as a surprise. "Are we Romans so bad?"
"As in all things, sweetheart, Rome leads the world."
"And are you saying Marcellinus stole these expensive materials from the palace?"
"I am not in a position to prove it- but until this moment, I was not looking for that kind of evidence."
"And now the truth just met your eyes."
"Very tastefully. In beautiful colour configurations, all skilfully worked."
Maybe someone else had been looking for the necessary evidence. Outside a familiar white-clad figure moved in a courtyard. Magnus.
He had been very keen to accompany us, and after we discovered the corpse he had gone off alone to poke about. Finding an opportunity to explore Marcellinus' villa was his reason for coming with us, probably. I marched out to join him, sinister, dexter, sinister, dexter.
"Don't tell me you're looking for "lost" property!"
I had found Magnus frantically pulling covers off piles of stacked materials. In his triumph, he forgot our disagreement when I accused him of the other killing. "Jupiter, Falco! He had some depot!" Excitement left him bright-eyed.
Marcellinus was storing all a home enthusiast could want and these were not mere samples. Fine goods were assembled here in large quantities. A renovating handyman would have gurgled with delight at this collection of building sundries. Roof tiles, floor veneers, flues, drains" Ceramic water pipes!" crowed Magnus.
"I keep a few things at home myself I mused. "I follow the "it might come in handy one day" principle."
Magnus turned to face me. "Couple of spare tiles for when your annex loses that wonky patch in the next storm? Timber off cuts Sack of tesserae to match your special floor in case some idiot kicks up a corner? Don't we all!"
"And architects do it on a grand scale?"
"Not all of them," Magnus said grimly.
"Maybe this stuff has been paid for."
Magnus only let out a harsh guffaw.
"I'd ask the grieving widow for a sight of the relevant invoices," I rasped, 'but it seems heartless."
"Now you're making me weep, Falco."
Magnus was once again burrowing among stacks of marble sheets. "The carts come in," he muttered, his roughened hands pulling the heavy slabs forward to inspect them. "We certify the delivery; the carts go out again. Cyprianus has taken to installing a gateman, who inspects every empty one."
"And you have been checking them personally, while they are parked up!"
"You saw me, Falco -and I saw you checking me, for that matter."
"You could have told me what you were doing."
"You could have told me\ I was trying to catch them using the rubbish removal trick- a layer of stolen goods is hidden under rubble. Anyway yesl' He stopped. He had licked his thumb and washed it over a particular marble block. Under the dust showed a small, neatly scratched cross. Magnus let the block rest against its brothers, then stood back, sighing like a sailor.
"You marked a consignment."
"And now I've found it here. Let him talk his way out of that one."
"Slight problem with the interrogation, Magnus! I'm diligent but Marcellinus may not co-operate…"
"Plus he had those pipes- they must be the ones Rectus is bellyaching over."
"Rectus will be pleased."
"He'll be farting delirious!"
"Will you arrange to fetch all this back to the palace?"
Tin staying here to guard it. When you go back, Falco, will you ask Cyprianus to organise transport?" Magnus then gazed at me. "By the way I had back-up, you know. When Gaius couldn't explain his whereabouts yesterday, it's because he was helping me search wagons."
"So you were never at the bath house last night?"
"Actually I was." Magnus looked shamefaced. "I really have to explain this, don't I?"
"It would be wise." I now thought him innocent, but I answered coldly.
"It was like this: I went to the baths, took off my togs and then Gaius
nipped after me to say there was movement by the wagons. I'd already
seen that Pomponius had put his lurid kit in the changing room and I
was not looking forward to leisure time with him. So I dragged on
I boots and a tunic, then left everything else."
"So that's how your satchel was hanging there unsupervised, when the killers borrowed your five-four-three and compasses?"
I "Right. It turned out there really was a cart leaving, but it was just
that appalling statue merchant you brought on site."
I'Sextius is not my protege!" "Anyway, Strephon finally gave him the push. Sextius was skulking off to Novio and taking his junk. Have you seen it, Falco? Useless trash… We searched the cart, then I was so demoralised I really could not face strigil ling down next to Pomponius. I fetched my bag and clean clothes and went back to my quarters. If anyone had meddled with my satchel, I didn't notice."
"Did you see where Gaius went?"
"He didn't come back to the baths with me. He went off to bed. I didn't hang about, and I don't know whether Pomponius was dead at that point or not."
"Why didn't you tell me all this?"
Magnus gave me a sneer. "You're the man from Rome!"
"That doesn't make me the enemy."
"Oh doesn't it!" he scoffed.
I ignored that. "And you think Gains is reliable?1
"He's been an enormous help."
"How did he get involved, Magnus?"
Now it was the surveyor's turn to dodge the question. "Gaius is a good lad." I had thought so myself once.
"So you're a diligent site official, he's an honest clerk? And I thought you two were cuddling in the same bath robe!"
"Oh spare me! You know about Gaius?"
"I know nothing. No one talks to me."
"Ask him," said Magnus.
XLVI
magnus and I continued thoughtfully to gaze at the Marcellinus house.
"Nice billet!" I commented. "From, the superb workmanship, he even used labourers and craftsmen from the palace site. It's a cliche, the architect doing up his own house at the client's expense."
"It still stinks, Falco." Magnus was disgusted. He was a straight dealer who on principle denied himself the perks that Marcellinus had taken so readily. He must have known already what had been going on. That did not make it easier for him to stand here staring at the proof.