A Body in the Bathhouse (35 page)

“So this is just the Chief Spy and his overseas agent. Every time we come abroad, we have the same problem of Anacrites dogging our footsteps,” Helena grumbled.

“If he’s done this, I’m assuming it’s his personal initiative. Anacrites is not supposed to know that I am here.”

“Did you ask Laeta to keep it confidential?”

“Yes—because I thought Laeta would enjoy deceiving Anacrites.”

“Ha! Perhaps Anacarites found out?”

“That would make him a good spy! Don’t wind my ratchet, lady.”

We sat quiet, perusing the decor while the situation sank in.

“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 multicolored cutwork stones …
a calm geometry of pale wine-juice red, aqua blue, dull white, shades of gray, 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 gray stone, close to marble, which I knew came from a fine British quarry on the coast. The huge bathhouse 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 Romanization—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 color configurations, all skillfully 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 offcuts? 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—
yes
!” 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 who had glimpsed his home port.

“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 cooperate. …”

“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?”

“I’m staying here to guard it. When you go back, Falco, will you ask Cyprianus to organize transport?” Magnus then gazed at me. “By the way—I had backup, 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 bathhouse 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 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?”

“Right. It turned out there really was a cart leaving, but it was just that appalling statue merchant you brought on-site.”

“Sextius is not my protégé!”

“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 demoralized I really could not face strigilling 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 Gaius is reliable?”

“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 bathrobe!”

“Oh, spare me! You know about Gaius?”

“I know nothing. No one talks to me.”

“Ask him,” said Magnus.

XLVI

M
AGNUS AND
I continued thoughtfully to gaze at the Marcellinus house.

“Nice billet!” I commented. “From the superb workmanship, he even used laborers and craftsmen from the palace site. It’s a cliché, 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.

“Did Pomponius take liberties too?” I asked.

“No.” Magnus calmed down slightly. “One thing you could say for Pomponius, he owned about five properties, but they were all in Italy—none placed conveniently near a project. And I never knew him to commandeer so much as a wood nail for any of them.”

“How do you think Marcellinus got away with it?”

“Probably started small.” Magnus forced himself to evaluate the fraud scientifically. “Genuine unwanted stuff. Mismatched colors. Overbought items. ‘Nobody will miss it; it will only go to waste …’ Laborers they were trying to keep busy during quiet periods in the contract would be dispatched for help out here. As project manager, Marcellinus could certify anything. If nobody picked up the increasing costs, he was laughing. And nobody did.”

“Maybe.”

“Don’t pretend you knew about it, Falco!”

“No.” But seeing what had now happened, I could name a palace bureau that must have Marcellinus on file. There had to be some reason why Anacrites had sent Perella out here. It was typical that he would be acting on outdated information, when current problems on the new scheme made Marcellinus a mere side issue.

“Eventually Marcellinus saw his source of supplies as a right?” I deduced. “He saw nothing wrong in it.”

“Everyone here thought supplying the architect with goodies was routine,” Magnus confirmed. “My worst problem has been breaking that attitude. I thought the King was in on it—still, he’s a provincial. Marcellinus had a duty to set him straight.”

“I’m sure that, finally, he embarrassed the King.”

“Too late,” said Magnus. “They had been too close. The King couldn’t shake Marcellinus off. That was why Pomponius used to hate letting Verovolcus in on anything.”

“The long shadow of Marcellinus thwarted all attempts to keep the new scheme solvent? I’ve seen for myself,” I told him. “Even with me right there on-site, Marcellinus was quite openly leaning on people like Milchato to keep his free gifts coming.”

“Bloody Milchato takes a cut,” the surveyor growled. “I’m damn sure of it.”

“We can sort that. He worked here on the previous building. Time he had a career move.”

“Oh—‘for further development of his personal craft skills,’ you mean?”

“I see, dear Magnus, that you know how it’s done!”

“Just move the problem on.”

“Move him to work on a military latrine at the bad end of Moesia.”

“They don’t have marble,” Magnus corrected me pedantically.

“Quite.”

We reflected on the failings—and in the long run, the powers—of gigantic bureaucracy. When that became too solemn, I mused ruefully, “It must have seemed so neat at first. Togidubnus has a refit—then so does Marcellinus.”

“Then spoilsport Rome sends in a brand-new project manager.”

“Pomponius makes himself unpopular, so Marcellinus sees his chance to reposition. But the King has adapted to Vespasian’s style; he definitely grows unhappy.” Despite their famous friendship, I was now sure Togidubnus had sent me to see this villa on purpose. I was to discover the fraud. “Togidubnus wants to see the corruption end.”

Magnus stared at me. “Just how badly does he want that, Falco? This murder seems rather too convenient.”

I was startled. “You’re surely not suggesting he had a hand in it?”

“He made damn sure he had left the scene before it happened.”

“I don’t fancy explaining back on the Palatine that a favorite of Vespasian’s is a murderer!” I groaned. “But did he organize it? I do hope not.”

“The Palatine may not be entirely clean, Falco. I bet this starts a whole way farther up than Novio.” Magnus was sharp. Too sharp for his own good, maybe. He might not have heard of Anacrites or Laeta by name, but he knew what went on.

I tried to disagree. “It’s a menace. Murder draws too much attention.”

“But this way, there won’t have to be an embarrassing corruption trial,” Magnus pointed out.

“True.”

Was avoiding political embarrassment enough to justify this murder in Anacrites’ eyes? Yes, his wheeler-dealing, double-standards section at the Palace would certainly see it that way. And they would not like Magnus and me deducing what they had done.

Helena Justina came out to the courtyard to join us. She looked from me to Magnus. “What have you found?”

I indicated the mass of stored materials, then waved an arm at the house. “Marcellinus had a lovely home—kindly supplied to him at government expense.”

Helena took it calmly. “So the man was somewhat unscrupulous?”

“Why avoid libel? He was utterly corrupt.” Helena sighed. “This will be a hard blow for the wife,” I said.

At that, my own flared up angrily. “I doubt it! In the first place, Marcus, they lived together here for a long time. The stupid woman ought to have noticed what went on. If she didn’t suspect, then she closed her eyes purposely.” Helena was hard. “Oh, she knew! She wanted her fine house. Even if you tell her now, she will deny any wrongdoing, insist that her husband was wonderful, and refuse all responsibility.”

Magnus looked startled by her virulence.

I put my arm round her. “Helena despises meek little women who claim they know nothing of the business world.”

“Parasites—who happily enjoy the proceeds!” Helena growled. “When she wakes up, that woman’s first thought will be whether she can keep the house.”

“If it’s all hushed up,” Magnus replied bitterly, “then she probably can.”

“Expect comprehensive hushing. The Emperor,” I told him dryly, “won’t wish to be seen as a tyrant who harasses widows.”

Helena Justina had had enough. She pointed out briskly that if we were going back to Novio that evening, we should set out now. “Leave the corpse. Let that woman deal with his remains.”