The hook, like all the others on the board, was empty.
Uh-huh. ‘That’s where the flat key was,’ I said. Tenement factors use these boards for the keys to the various flats because it keeps everything nice and neat. If a flat’s occupied then of course the occupier gets the key, but otherwise it stays on the board. The last two hooks would go with the top floor.
‘Right. I didn’t notice it was missing until I got back here after the Watchmen had gone with the body. Didn’t know he had it on him, either; still don’t, as such, because they haven’t been back, but I assume now he must’ve because it wasn’t upstairs when I looked. Did he?’ I nodded, and his mouth twisted. ‘Right. That solves that one, then. Anyway, it wasn’t until later that I put two and two together, and by then I’d told my story. Now I’m just setting the record straight, that’s all.’
‘You didn’t wonder how he’d got into the flat?’
He stared at me, the bread-crust half way to his lips. ‘Jupiter, that’s not something you give a thought to! Not when a man’s lying there smashed like a doll with his brains…’ He stopped, looked at the crust and put it down. ‘Anyway, the answer’s no. No, I didn’t wonder, not then.’
‘And the Watchman you talked to didn’t ask? Where Papinius had got the key from?’
‘He hadn’t seen it at the time. Or at least he never mentioned it to me, and like I say no one from the Watch office has been here since. I assume it was in the lad’s belt-pouch and they found it later.’
Oh, great; score one for the super-efficient Thirteenth District Watch. Gods alive, what a shower! ‘So what you’re saying — now — is that Papinius dropped in on an excuse and helped himself to the top floor flat key?’
‘Yes. At least, that’s what I’m assuming. The document with the figures he wanted was in my desk in the other room. He’d’ve known that. He must’ve taken the key while I was getting it and then gone upstairs when I thought he’d left the building.’ Caepio spread his hands. ‘Look, I’m sorry I lied, Corvinus. It was stupid, and I’ve regretted it ever since, but I’m levelling with you now before I get myself into more trouble. After all, what does it matter? And I swear to you the boy didn’t get that key from me. Not as such.’
Yeah, well, there was no point in pushing things. And he seemed genuine enough. ‘Okay.’ I stood up. ‘Can I see the flat?’
Caepio was looking relieved. ‘Certainly. No problem. It’s locked again, of course, because I’ve got a duplicate. Hold on and I’ll fetch it for you.’ He got up and lurched into the next room, reappearing almost immediately with a heavy bunch of keys. ‘That’s the one, the last on the ring. You want me to come up?’
‘No, that’s okay.’ With that leg, climbing five flights of stairs wouldn’t be easy. ‘I’ll drop them back down on the way out.’
‘It’s the door on the left.’ He handed the bunch over. ‘Take your time.’
I went up to the sixth. There were two flats opposite each other either side of the landing, and on an impulse I knocked a couple of times at the other door. No answer. Well, like I say that was par for the course: people in tenements are out most of the day, and any top-floor flat will be as basic as you get, with no incentive for staying in.
Once inside the flat itself I opened the shutters to let in the light: tenement windows, especially those on the upper floors, are just holes in the wall, and with the weather we’d been getting Caepio had kept them closed. I’d expected the place to be bare, but there were three or four stools and the framework of a bed, with no mattress. Also, although it smelt stale and unused, it was dry, fairly clean and even clear of dust. Good sign: empty flats, particularly the no-frills variety right under the tiles, tend to get the go-by where everyday maintenance is concerned. Caepio was obviously the conscientious type.
I looked through the window and down. A long way down: six storeys seem more when you’re at the top of them. The street below was crowded — it’d been a miracle that Papinius hadn’t taken an innocent pedestrian or two with him when he jumped — but all I could see was the tops of heads and my friend the fruit-seller’s stall on the opposite pavement. Nothing at eye-level, not for at least a block either side. Good view of the Aventine, if you like that sort of thing. Window-sill chest high, but he could’ve clambered up easy, or used the stool immediately beneath the ledge to stand on. He’d’ve had to have climbed, certainly: accident wasn’t an option here.
I leaned out and shouted. Two or three heads swivelled upwards briefly.
It all checked; the physical side of things, anyway. I poked around a bit in the room, but there was nothing to see that I wouldn’t have expected, and even the bloody Thirteenth District Watch wouldn’t’ve missed something as obvious as a suicide note that’d got itself mislaid in one of the corners. Bugger. That was that, then.
I took a last look from the window down towards the pavement, feeling my balls shrink: me, if I had to kill myself, I’d do it clean by slitting my wrists in the bath or putting a sword to my ribs and falling on it. Or maybe just lighting a charcoal brazier and shutting all the windows. I sure as hell wouldn’t jump from a sixth-floor window in a strange building head-first onto a crowded street. Still, I wasn’t Papinius. And he had taken the key. That last I was sure of: Caepio hadn’t been lying, I’d bet my last copper penny there, which meant that it was suicide after all, carefully planned and premeditated.
The only question left to answer was the one I’d started with: why?
I dropped the keys off with Caepio and went down to collect Placida.Zilch. The banister-holding bracket had been torn clear of the wall, and there was a distinct absence of dog. Which meant…
Oh, hell!
Here we went again. I cleared the tenement entrance at a run. Too late, miles too late; I could tell that straight away from the crowd of interested bystanders round the butcher’s.
Shit! She’d planned it! She had bloody planned it! I’d kill the brute!
I pushed my way through. Placida was up on the counter gulping down the last of the dangling pork links. The butcher himself was standing well clear, cleaver in hand.
Happy, smiling and contented were three things he wasn’t.
‘That your dog, friend?’ he said.
‘Uh…yeah. In a manner of speaking.’
‘Fuck that,’ he spat. ‘You owe me for’ — he counted off on his fingers — ‘two pounds of tripe, six chops, three pork knuckles, an ox liver and a bowl of dripping. Plus the sausages, of course.’
‘What? Nothing can eat — !’
‘I got witnesses.’
I glanced round. Several of the punters nodded. They were all looking impressed as hell. One old guy with no teeth and a face like a pickled walnut was making a trembling sign against the evil eye.
I sighed and reached for my purse. This was getting monotonous. Maybe we should give the brute an allowance and bill Sestia bloody Calvina when she finally rolled in from Veii.
‘You want to look after her better.’ The butcher had his hand out. ‘Me, I’ve always said there’s no problem dogs, just problem owners.’
‘Very profound, pal.’ I tipped half of the purse’s contents into his palm. ‘Have a really, really nice day. Come on, Placida.’
I pulled on the dangling lead. She came down, grinning.
‘Urp.’
‘Yeah, I’m not surprised.’ Well, it might slow her down a bit, at least. It was a long drag from the Aventine to Julian Square, and that was our next stop to see the money-lender Vestorius.
8