Getting him his job with the…
I slowed down. Oh, shit. Oh, no.
You’d be surprised what some chancers’ll try to get away with when there’s an imperial-backed compensation scheme up and running.
Atratinus had said that. But surely Papinius wouldn’t’ve been such a bloody fool. And he just wasn’t the type.
Or was he? It would explain how he came by the sixty thousand, certainly. And, given certain circumstances, it would explain the suicide, too.
Bugger. Still, theorising could wait until I’d talked to Balbus. Not that I’d take Placida in with me this time: public officials get very intense about boarhounds crapping on the government’s tiling.
One curious thing. As I left Julian Square I had the distinct feeling that I was being followed; nothing definite, and the few times I turned round didn’t provide any evidence for it. Even so, the feeling was there, and it wouldn’t go away.
I was lucky: the aedile was in and free to see me. He was a big man my age, with heavy eyebrows and an even heavier gut that projected well over the desk as he stood up to shake hands.
‘I’ve been expecting you, Corvinus,’ he said. ‘Atratinus said you’d had a chat with him over lunch yesterday, and I thought I might be next. Have a seat.’
The visitor’s chair had ivory inlay and small golden birds on the pillars of the back-piece. It went well with the rest of the office’s furnishings, which were a lot more upmarket than you usually find in a public-sector room. Still, with four deputy imperials fronting the commission that wasn’t surprising.
‘Now.’ Balbus settled into his own chair. ‘What can I tell you about young Papinius? Not much more than you’ve already heard, probably. He was with us practically from the start, he was good at his job and seemed to enjoy it, got on well with his colleagues and his superiors. A very, very likeable and promising young man.’ He spread his hands. ‘That’s about all, I’m afraid. His death — and especially the fact that it was self-inflicted — was a tragedy.’
‘You’ve no idea why he should want to kill himself?’ I said.
‘None.’
‘Because I was wondering — seriously wondering — if the kid wasn’t on the make.’
Balbus…froze. There’s no other word for it. The guy simply went rigid, every muscle, like concrete setting.
‘I beg your pardon?’ he said at last.
‘Taking backhanders. Bribes. From the claimants he was responsible for interviewing.’
We stared at each other, the silence lengthening. Finally Balbus said, quietly: ‘How did you know?’
Bugger. Well, the odds that I was wrong hadn’t been all that good to start with. Even so… ‘I didn’t,’ I said. ‘Not as such. But making the connection doesn’t exactly take a huge leap of intuitive genius, pal. He was in debt to a money-lender up to his eyeballs, with no way out. Then suddenly he’s in the position to buy himself off. The job he’s in, the chances he has, the money had to come from bribes.’
Balbus cleared his throat. He looked sick. ‘I had no proof,’ he said. ‘No real proof, that is. Not that it matters now, of course. The boy’s dead and there’s an end of it. Practically speaking, it makes no difference; we’ll double-check his assessments and if there are discrepancies they’ll be rectified. As far as the people who slipped him the cash are concerned…well, I don’t think we’ll be hearing any complaints from them.’
‘So,’ I said, leaning back in my chair. ‘How did you know?’
‘I told you. I didn’t either, not for certain. I still don’t. All my evidence was circumstantial and cumulative: a claim passed that seemed on the high side, but not suspicious enough to merit further investigation, a hint from one or two honest quarters that Papinius seemed to be angling for a back-hander — again, in a way that was ambiguous enough for him to deny convincingly. That sort of thing. I didn’t, of course, know anything about the debt aspect or I might’ve felt justified in taking more direct action.’
‘So how were you handling it?’
‘With very soft gloves. Like I said, he was a nice lad in himself, serious-minded, an ex-consul’s son and with a good, caring mother. Efficient and conscientious, too, prime future senior administrator material. If I’d reported the matter his career would’ve been finished, at the very least. Possibly he’d’ve been exiled, certainly he’d be disgraced for the rest of his days. I didn’t want to do that, Corvinus, especially since as I’ve said I’d no actual proof. One mistake and the boy’s whole life is ruined, and I wasn’t even certain he’d made the mistake. You understand me?’
‘Yeah,’ I said. ‘Yeah, I understand.’ Hell!
‘So I had a quiet word with him. Unofficially, off the record, in private. No one knew anything about it, about any of it. Not even my suspicions. I’d been careful over that from the start, and I told him I had. I didn’t make any accusations, just presented him with the facts. Such facts as I had. He…well, I think it registered. In fact, I’m sure it did.’
‘When was this?’
‘Three days ago. The morning of the day he died.’
‘Uh-huh.’ Shit. Well, then; that was that. A combination of guilt and the prospect of public disgrace and a ruined career, with no realistic way out. No wonder the poor sap had killed himself. Case solved, close the lid. What the hell I was going to tell Natalis, mind — let alone his mother — I didn’t know. Not the truth, certainly: it might not actually kill Rupilia but a truth like that she could do without. Still, that was my problem. I stood up. ‘Thanks, Balbus. You’ve been very helpful.’
‘Yes…well…’
I turned to go. My hand was on the door-handle when he called out: ‘Corvinus!’
I looked back. ‘Yeah?’
Balbus must’ve read my mind. ‘Don’t tell Rupilia,’ he said. ‘She’s a good woman, and she loved her son. Like I say, it doesn’t matter any more. As far as Rome’s concerned, the thing’s over and done with.’
I nodded, and left. Over and done with. Right.What I needed now was a drink.
The fool! The bloody young fool!
Only…
On the way down the steps of the building to pick up Placida from where I’d left her tied to the general’s statue I met Marcus Atratinus coming up. I still felt sick, but when I saw him the niggle came back with a vengeance. Hell, I couldn’t just ignore it: I owed myself, and the dead kid, that much at least before we finally put the cap on things.
‘Hey, Atratinus,’ I said. ‘One question. Straight answer, under oath, no faffing. You up for that?’
He gave me an uncertain grin. ‘Of course. Whatever you like.’
‘Was Sextus Papinius an honest man? Yes or no, no half measures. Go for it.’
The grin faded and he looked at me like I’d grown an extra head. The look wasn’t too friendly, either. ‘Sextus Papinius,’ he said carefully, ‘never did a dishonest or a mean thing in his life.’ Then, turning towards the temple of Jupiter Stayer of the Host next door, he raised his hand. ‘You want your oath then you’ve got it: So help me, Jupiter.’
I frowned: the niggle was there, full strength now. Hell. ‘Yeah,’ I said. ‘Yeah, thanks, pal. That was what I was afraid you’d say.’
I left him staring, hand still raised. Complicated was right.
9
I found a wine-shop off the Sacred Way that didn’t mind dogs and settled down with a half jug to think.
Oh, sure, the solution all made sense, every bit of it, and if Papinius hadn’t got his sixty thousand from bribes then where the hell had he got it from? I didn’t have an answer to that; I didn’t even have the ghost of an answer. Besides, if he was crooked and he knew he’d been rumbled then suicide was a logical way out. Not the only way, but an obvious one to a guy with Papinius’s background and character. No problems there. Everything fitted together like the stones of a good mosaic.