‘A cover-up for what?’
‘The gods know. I’m talking through my ears here. The only thing I’m absolutely certain of at this point is that the kid’s death was no suicide.’
‘Marcus, be careful. I have a bad feeling about this. I don’t think your muggers were ordinary Aventine knifemen.’
‘No, lady. Neither do I.’ Well, it’d explain my own gut feeling that someone had been tailing me for the last couple of days. Mind you, I didn’t believe in my altruistic stonemasons’ deus-ex-machina act either; that was just too neat to be coincidence. I finished the wine at a swig. ‘The hell with it for now, anyway. I’m starving, it’s been a long time since lunch and Bathyllus mentioned something about meatballs.’
‘Oh. Oh, yes, they’re on the dining-room table.’ Perilla got up. ‘By the way, where’s Placida?’
I looked round. ‘She was right behind me, but I haven’t seen her since…Shit!’
I leapt off the couch and ran through to the dining-room.
No meatballs. No dog, either, just an empty pate licked clean and a few breadcrumbs. Hell. The end to a perfect day. I went back to the atrium, stomach rumbling.
‘Have they gone?’ Perilla said.
‘Like the snowfall on the river. Bugger!’
‘Never mind, dear. A heavy meal last thing at night isn’t good for you anyway.’
‘A plateful of meatballs isn’t a heavy meal, lady. And I’d’ve liked to’ve been given the option. I hope the brute has heartburn.’ Ah, well. The joy of pets. And I had had my dog-free day; I couldn’t grudge her half a dozen of Meton’s meatballs in return. ‘Bed?’
‘Bed.’
Tomorrow I would track down Carsidius.
18
It was pretty late when we woke the next morning, but then I reckoned I was owed a bit of a lie-in, not to mention a substantial breakfast. Besides, I’d got quite a strenuous day ahead of me, beginning with a hike over to the Trigemina Gate to check on the bona fides or otherwise of my stonemason chums. In the unlikely event that they did turn out to be pukkah then fine; once I had an address I could thank them by sending a couple of jars of Caecuban. If not…well, we’d have to think about that.
‘You’ll be taking Placida, naturally,’ Perilla said as Bathyllus poured her breakfast fruit juice.
She’d caught me in mid-bite of my honeyed roll. I almost choked.
‘Jupiter, lady, I’ve got a job to do!’
She sighed. ‘Marcus, we talked about this last night. Oh, I quite agree, she’d be far better off with Alexis. He’s much more reliable, and at least he can be trusted to look after her properly, but — ’
‘But what?’ I set the roll down.
‘Well, you haven’t exactly been a good influence so far, have you? She was a perfect angel when she came, and look at her now.’ I was staring open-mouthed. She reached for the grapes. ‘Oh, I’m not blaming you, dear, it’s not completely your fault: animals are very sensitive to these things. But even so, after the events of yesterday evening I’d be happier knowing you have her with you.’
There ain’t no justice. Bugger. Trapped again. Not that I would’ve minded all that much about that — she was right; if someone had set these two muggers on me then having Placida on the team would be a serious disincentive for a second attempt — but being accused of corrupting the brute’s morals really hurt. I hoped I never met the sainted Sestia Calvina because unless somebody restrained me I’d vivisect the lady with a rusty sawblade.
Yeah, well. Like the Stoics say, when Fate frowns on you all you can do is give her the finger and grin back. Besides, Alexis had said that Placida had been good as gold yesterday. Maybe she was settling down.
And maybe we’d be hit from above by a shower of pigshit.
Bathyllus oozed over. ‘Would you like some more rolls, sir?’ he said. ‘Madam?’
‘Uh-uh. Not for me, anyway, little guy,’ I said, standing up. ‘I’d better be going. Oh. One thing. You have an address for Lucius Carsidius? The senator?’
He hardly blinked. ‘Yes, of course. He has a house on the Esquiline, overlooking Patrician Street.’
‘Could you send a skivvy round? Ask if it’d be convenient to call on him some time this afternoon.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Fine. I should be back here in time for lunch and you can give me his answer then. Where’s Placida?’
‘With Meton in the kitchen, sir. She spends a lot of her time down there. As I said, they’ve become quite friendly.’
Gods! Put these two together and you had the potential for a partnership made in hell. Still, that was Meton’s business. Or at least I hoped it’d stay that way.
‘Wheel her up, then, pal,’ I said. ‘Let’s get this over with.’
‘Don’t forget Lippillus and Marcina are coming to dinner tonight,’ Perilla said. Damn; I had. Never mind, the Esquiline wasn’t too far away and an afternoon appointment with Carsidius would get me back in plenty of time. ‘Oh, and Marcus?’
‘Yeah?’
‘Be careful.’
Although ‘good as gold’ didn’t exactly describe Placida’s behaviour on the walk — there was a minor incident involving a pie-seller near the Racetrack, but the guy had snapped his fingers at her and it was his own fault — we made it without too much trouble. Maybe sending her out with Alexis hadn’t been such a bad move after all, and she’d decided to turn over a new leaf.
Maybe.
The Trigemina Gate’s on the river side of the city, beyond Circus Valley and opposite the north-west corner of the Aventine. That stretch, following the river and all the way south to Pottery Mountain, is definitely industrial area, mostly the heavy or bulk variety because the raw material can come up or down the Tiber by barge and doesn’t have to be transported overland all that far. So we weren’t exactly short of stonemasons’ yards here. Accordingly, I gave it a fair crack of the whip; I asked at every yard and every wine-shop from the Sublician down to Drusus and Germanicus Arch.
No one had heard of either Sextus Aponius or Quintus Pettius.
Okay, so check. So much for the accidental stonemasons; the buggers had been tailing me right enough. The question was why? And who had sent them? Not that I wasn’t grateful, mark you.
Well, at least I’d done my duty by Perilla. What with the trip over to the Gate and subsequent detours up and down the river bank, Placida couldn’t complain that she wasn’t getting her share of exercise. I wasn’t going to do an Alexis and risk letting her off the lead, though, even in the comparatively open ground near Pottery Mountain. Chasing rampant Gallic boarhounds over half the Thirteenth Region was a pleasure I could do without.
I got back home in time for a quick lunch before my arranged appointment with Lucius Carsidius. Perilla wasn’t in, so I left Placida sleeping it off in Alexis’s shed and headed up to the Esquiline.
Carsidius was everything I’d expected: a handsome, upright, silver-haired senator who just radiated respectability, honesty, trustworthiness, love of honour and the embodiment of everything that has made Rome great. Dad would’ve loved him. More, he’d chosen to see me in his private study, where the eyes of a dozen generations of his family in the form of portrait busts glared down at me as if I’d just pissed under their noses on the fancy mosaic floor.
He was also, very plainly although he tried to hide it, nervous. And…angry. There was no other word for it.
Odd.
‘Valerius Corvinus,’ he said, rising. ‘Do come in, please.’ Then, to the slave who’d brought me in: ‘Bring us some wine, Flavius. Corvinus, you’ll find that chair most comfortable if you’d care to sit.’
I sat. He did the same, behind his desk. We looked at each other.
‘I’m — ’ I began.
He held up a hand. ‘I know why you’re here,’ he said. ‘To ask me about the death of young Sextus Papinius. But first I’m afraid that I have a confession to make. Rather a serious one, as it happens.’
‘Uh…you have?’ I said.
‘Yes. You see, I bribed him.’
This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. I stared at the guy.