Part 28 (1/2)

The Camillus brothers joined us that evening. Honorius was supposed to come too, though he never appeared.

Justinus had done a thorough job with the steward. He had learned that his name was Celadus. Now we had a written transcript of the story about Saffia's quails, plus further details about how Rubirius Metellus had begun feeling ill shortly after he ate them. Celadus had seen Metellus go out into the garden, gasping that he needed air. The steward then confirmed the sequence I had previously worked out: Calpurnia found her husband helpless and dying; she herself fetched a quilt for him; then when he pa.s.sed away she hid the body. Negrinus was away in Lanuvium. Celadus thought he had gone to explain to Julius Alexander that Metellus had decided not to kill himself. When Negrinus returned to Rome, Calpurnia brought the body into the house and faked the scene of suicide.

'After Calpurnia was accused of the crime - come to that, when her daughter was accused first - why didn't the steward declare what he knew about the quails?'

Justinus pulled a face. 'Greed, Marcus.'

'Greed?'

'He was planning to blackmail Saffia.'

'Dear G.o.ds, everyone was at it! That explains why the family never produced this as a reb.u.t.tal. They guessed hemlock was to blame - but they had no idea where it came from.'

'If Celadus hadn't started drinking yesterday, he might never have coughed.' Justinus sympathised with the man in some ways. 'He's a freedman, from a family who have lost all their money. He has no expectations, unless he creates them for himself. But Saffia's dead. And then he heard that you had done a stonking job in court, Marcus.'

I laughed bitterly. 'So Celadus thinks his mistress is for the lions - and since silence no longer holds a profit for him, he finds he's loyal enough to save her!'

Still, it was only one man's word. We could behave like true informers: since it spoiled our case, we could hide this. The silver dish on which the quails arrived would have been long ago washed up. n.o.body else knew it ever arrived from Saffia. If we chose to press on with the Calpurnia case then discrediting a freedman who had kept quiet for so long would be easy; we could discount Celadus and his evidence. But in this miserable week, I guessed that now we were looking for it, corroboration would be found. The steward's evidence would stand. Anyway, we all had consciences.

Aelia.n.u.s, meanwhile, had contacted some other funeral comedians who were subcontracted to Tiasus. They could not say what the secretive Spindex had discovered about the Metelli, but they did know the name of the informer - and drinking partner - with whom Spindex had often worked. His source when he needed dirt on senators was called Bratta.

Well, that fitted. That was neat as a nut. At once I sent word to Petronius that Bratta was implicated in the Spindex killing; Petro issued my description and an arrest warrant. Not that I expected a result. The vigiles are ex-slaves, most of whom cannot read. The description would be recited to them, if we were lucky. They would nod wisely. Perhaps some would remember. Generally they have too much to do bas.h.i.+ng in the heads of villains they met last night to worry about somebody who might have killed somebody else on a different night six months ago.

To gear them up, we had to prove a link. But Bratta was a professional. He had left no clues. Mind you, even if he had left evidence all over the clown's apartment, and if a witness on the spot had seen him strangling Spindex, Paccius Africa.n.u.s would get him off.

'Anything else?' I asked Helena. She was our duty officer. I was too depressed to think.

'Only that my father wants to help with your impiety charge. After I talked to him, he went to see someone.'

'He's a gem - but I can't deal with that at present.'

'You can't dodge out of it, Marcus. Just as well Papa is trying to look after you!'

We were due in court on the Calpurnia case next morning. It was unavoidable. I had wanted to debate tactics with Honorius, but he had never showed up. I was about to find out why. Before the morning session started, I made an attempt to nudge things our way. It was doomed, but I had nothing to lose. I took myself for an early stroll at the Basilica Paulli, looking for Paccius and Silius. Ever optimistic, I was hoping to fix up some plea bargaining.

LIII.

FOUND THE two elder statesmen sharing their usual friendly cake and tisane. Honorius was with them. Maybe he too wanted to sort out something helpful for Falco and a.s.sociates. Who was I fooling? Our colleague was here to protect his own interests.

n.o.body seemed surprised to see me. Silius, that manoeuvring overfed blob, used his foot to hook over a seat from another table. Although not part of our case, he stayed on, looking a misery as usual. I seated myself. Paccius, ever restrained in society, moved their plate of almond fancies slightly; I declined. All their togas were piled in a heap together on another bench. I kept mine folded on my knees. I needed the warmth. It was a cold day and I was in company that chilled me.

Here we sat, among the fine Doric columns of black and red marble in the Porticus of Gaius and Lucius, named for the grandsons of Augustus, lost golden boys whose early deaths symbolised dashed hopes. We occupied a peaceful corner outside the shops, close to one of the staircases that took people up from this gracious porch-like frontage to the richly ornate upper gallery of the Basilica Paulli. This was sophisticated living. Or it should have been. But I was doing business with men who lacked all honour, faith and decency.

I gazed at Honorius. Never had his well-shaved handsome young visage seemed so objectionable. 'I take it we have lost your fine presence from our team, Honorius?'

He knew I meant he had stuffed us.

'I am sorry, Falco.' If he was abashed, his regret was cursory. 'It seems best to go back to Silius.'

The idealist had turned realist and I told him not to apologise. It was Metellus Negrinus who took Honorius on. I had known what he was from the start. Privately, my concern now was what he had told his two manipulating masters. He was bound to have told them something; it would be the price of their welcome home to the wanderer.

I turned to Paccius. 'You will have gathered from our approach to the judge yesterday that we have had to reconsider the evidence.'

'You accept that Calpurnia Cara is innocent?'

'No, I think she has a lot to answer for. But we shall withdraw our murder charge.'

'My client will be delighted,' Paccius said mildly. He had no need to gloat and he was too subtle to mention huge damages. His calm air of self-a.s.surance made the prospect all the more frightening.

I pressed on with trying to negotiate. 'Silius, our new evidence means your pet.i.tion against Negrinus will not hold up. He did not kill his father. If you go for it, we can wipe you out. Be grateful: we are preventing you from embarking on a fruitless case.' Silius laughed. Paccius pretended to be politely absorbed in something else, while Honorius looked embarra.s.sed. 'But you still need to prove formally that Rubirius Metellus did not commit suicide, so you can claim your compensation. We know what happened. I can offer you a bargain -'

'I'm not buying,' said Silius, enjoying himself. 'I know that Metellus was murdered by Saffia.'

Honorius was staring at the ground. Since I arrived, an almond cake crimped with one forlorn bite had lain untouched in front of him. I was right: Silius had bought him. Now I knew how. Paccius, in league with Silius despite their alleged feud, had promised Honorius he would waive any Calpurnia compensation which Marponius awarded against him. So Honorius had given this pair my saleable information.

I kept my thoughts to myself. Expressionless, I stood up and said I would see them in court.

Maybe Honorius had a conscience - though if so, it would not last among those liver-pecking eagles. As I went back across the Forum to the Basilica, he did rush after me. He was agitated.

'Falco! Just let me say this: my leaving is not as bad as you think.'

'Oh no?' At the base of a statue plinth I rounded on him. 'You mean, you have not dumped us because we're in trouble - and you did not tell those b.a.s.t.a.r.ds we identified Saffia as the killer?'

'I've left you,' he conceded. 'And the timing stinks. But they already knew about Saffia.'

I paused. 'They knew?'

'Paccius knew Bratta bought the hemlock for her. And she told Bratta she wanted it for her father-in-law.'

'Well, that was correct!' I stopped. 'How did Paccius know?'

'When Saffia left Negrinus, Paccius advised on their divorce. He sent Bratta to help with her removals. She knew what kind of work Bratta did. When she asked about buying poison, Bratta reported straight back to Paccius.'

'So did Paccius encourage - or better still, order - Bratta to help acquire the hemlock... ?' Honorius and I knew we would find no answer to that red hot question.

Paccius Africa.n.u.s was tangled up in this business to a degree that I would call unethical - had ethics had any place in his world. If he was party to Bratta's purchase, we could charge him with incitement, or with being an accessory to murder. But I would never prove it.

I was wondering whether Paccius realised Bratta might have killed Spindex. I doubted if Honorius knew. Even Paccius might be in the dark: Bratta may have acted on his own initiative. None of them knew yet that Bratta was wanted by the vigiles. Perhaps a sordid backstreet killing which Paccius had never authorised might yet be used to topple the informers' elaborate schemes. 'Bratta has disappeared, Honorius. Do they know where he is?'

'Bratta? Paccius has the rogue as a house guest at his own mansion.' Hmm. I wondered if we could lift Bratta. Not that Petronius Longus, whose remit was the Aventine, would agree to go north of the Forum. He wouldn't want to raid an ex-consul's grand abode either. I would have to extract Bratta myself.

'One last thing - Did they both know about Saffia? Paccius and Silius?' Ashamed of his new compatriots, Honorius nodded. 'And did they know from the start?'