"The Mammoth Book of Locked-Room Mysteries And Impossible Crimes" - читать интересную книгу автора (Ashley Mike, Edwards Martin, Ellis Kate, Frazer Margaret, Carr John Dickson,...)

IV

The room in which Junius lay was lit only by a single lamp of cheap oil, whose stuttering flame cast staccato shadows against the far wall. No mosaics covered his floor, no painted scenes brought bare plaster to life. Even the welter of bandages which swaddled his head seemed uncared for.

“You blockhead,” Claudia whispered, wiping a bead of sweat from his cheek. “What did you have to go and get yourself beaned for?”

Dust motes danced in the wavering flame, and the scent of her spicy Judaean perfume blocked out the smell of caked blood. He was lucky, according to Max’s physician, that no bones were broken, he’d taken one helluva tumble, but watching the shallow breathing and the waxy texture of his skin, lucky was not the first word which came to Claudia’s mind. Her hands bunched into fists. Dammit, Max knew the terrain up on the ridge like the back of his hand, he should have warned Junius that shale was dangerous. The stretcher-bearers told her what happened – how he’d lost his footing under the weight of the weaponry he was carrying – but the fact that the accident happened at all was the problem. She should not have allowed Junius to go. Max knew he was inexperienced, dammit he should have insisted the boy stayed behind – but since he hadn’t, then he should bloody well have taken better care of his charge!

She opened the shutter, allowing a small breeze to sport with the flame. From here, there was only a view of the cowshed, plus a hint of the moon through the oaks. Far away, a fox barked and she felt, rather than heard, the door open behind her.

“How is he?”

Claudia’s heart flipped a somersault. It can’t be. Sweet Janus, this isn’t possible – She waited until her pulse settled down. “Lazy as ever,” she said, not turning round. “But that’s servants for you these days. Not a thought for anyone but themselves.”

The baritone chucked softly, and her heart began to spin like a top.

“I’ve just come from the banqueting hall,” Marcus said. “And I think it’s a reasonable prediction to say there’ll be some jolly sore heads in the morning.”

Claudia did not smile. “Orbilio, what the hell are you doing here?”

“Oh.” He rubbed a hand over his chin. “Just passing.”

“On your way where, exactly?”

“Home.”

She took in the long patrician tunic, the high patrician boots, the firm patrician jaw. And wondered why it was that little pulse always beat at the side of his neck when they were alone. “Isn’t this something of a detour for you? Say, of some one hundred miles?”

His teeth showed white in the darkness and she could smell his sandalwood unguent, even through the pongs from the cowshed. Then the grin disengaged and his voice, when he spoke, was a rasp. “Claudia, you must leave, it’s dangerous here.”

She closed the shutter, and the flame straightened up. “It’s the Emperor’s fault,” she told the comatose bodyguard. “He will keep subsidising theatrical productions, some of the drama’s bound to rub off. Or could it be, Junius, that this aristocrat’s simply jealous of Max?”

“This has nothing to do with-Is that a betrothal ring on your finger?”

“See what I mean?” she asked the welter of bloodstained bandages.

“It is! It’s a betrothal ring! Claudia, you can’t marry that man, he’s worn out five wives already.”

“Six has always been my lucky number.”

“Fine!” He threw his hands in the air. “Fine. Do what you like, only for gods’ sake, let’s discuss this back in Rome. I have horses outside, we-”

Claudia spun round to face him. “Who the bloody hell do you think you are? My guardian? My husband? I’m not one of your flunkies.”

“You’ve got me wrong-”

“I haven’t got you at all, and that’s the root of it. You’re jealous as hell that I’m here with Max, and moreover, I intend to stay here, Orbilio. I have Great Plans for my future-”

“As Soni had Great Plans for his!”

Claudia felt the ground shift underfoot. “Soni?”

“Dammit, he was one of our best undercover agents.” Orbilio slammed a fist into the palm of his hand. “When he failed to report back, I came looking – only I can’t find him anywhere.”

The floorboards became marsh, and Claudia slumped down on Junius’ narrow pallet bed. “Soni’s a policeman?”

“Of sorts,” Marcus said. “Why?” She saw him stiffen. “Do you know anything about his disappearance?”

Claudia rubbed at her forehead. “Yes… No…” The room was spinning around her. Umbrian idylls crumbled to dust as she explained how Soni hadn’t come home from the hunt.

“Shit.” Orbilio sank on to the bed beside her, and buried his head in his hands. “That means someone rumbled his cover and took the opportunity of this morning’s excitement to kill him.”

But how? When? Obviously suspicious, Soni’s idea of life insurance was to keep himself in full view of the hunt. How could he possibly have been eliminated without witnesses? What was it the head bearer had said? Now you see him, now you don’t-

“What-” Claudia could not bring herself to say “who”. “What are you investigating?”

Orbilio spiked his hands through his hair, and when he spoke, his voice was weary. “Max,” he said slowly, “makes too much money for my liking. I mean, look at this place, Claudia. A man doesn’t make legitimate millions from stag hunts and bears! So I started making some enquiries and… ”

“And what?”

For a long time, the only sound in the room was the shallow breath of the unconscious bodyguard. Then: “I couldn’t be certain – after all, the top echelon of Rome are visitors here. I had to tread softly. So I set up that business at the slave auction-”

Soni was a plant?

“Goddammit, Orbilio, you set me up, too!”

That was no accidental meeting, that day in the Forum -Supersnoop had been waiting for her! He knew where she’d been, she knew where she was going, and on top of it all, he damn well knew Max would be there. Both of them, plums for the picking!

“I needed you to add authenticity,” Marcus said. “That way, Max would suspect nothing and I’d have an undercover agent to sound out my theory.” He scrubbed his eyeballs with his thumbs. “What the hell am I supposed to say to his mother?”

Several more minutes ticked past, and the candle guttered and spat.

“I think it’s fair to say that, having rumbled Soni,” Marcus said quietly, “they feared Junius was also a spy.”

Nausea clogged Claudia’s throat as she studied the comatose form on the bed. “His injuries aren’t accidental?”

“Don’t you think it’s strange he has only head wounds? For a chap who supposedly tumbled down a ravine, it seems odd no bones were broken.” He paused, before adding, “I’m sure they believed they were bringing his corpse home to you.”

Tears scalded Claudia’s eyes. Sweet Jupiter, that might yet be the case…

“What hunch were you working on?” Claudia asked, but her words were cut short as the door to the sickroom burst open, spilling bright orange light on to the floor.

“Seize him!”

Half a dozen men rushed into the room, grabbing a kicking, struggling, protesting Marcus and hauling him in to the corridor. Claudia shot after them, but there were too many and Orbilio was quickly bundled down the slave wing, watched by a blond huntsman with Aegean blue eyes.

“Where are you taking him?” Claudia demanded, but a strong arm shot out to restrain her.

“Stay out of this,” Max growled. He needed both hands to contain his struggling fireball. “This is between Orbilio and me.” To his men, he said, “Get a horse, tie him to it, then escort this gentleman to Rome.”

“This is outrageous,” Claudia hissed.

“I know,” Max admitted. By the gods, she could squirm! “But I can’t allow people to go around slandering me, particularly well-connected patrician policemen.”

“He says-”

“I know what he says, and perhaps he genuinely believes I’m up to my ears in extortion or blackmail, but Jupiter’s balls, I’m no gangster. I won’t have the slur bandied about. Now, Orbilio’s pride might be hurt, riding home hogtied, but it will only be pride.”

He released her at last, leaving them both panting and red from exertion.

“What of his claim that Junius’ injuries aren’t consistent with a fall?” she spat, and to her astonishment, Max burst out laughing.

“Have you seen the bruises on that poor bugger’s body? Junius hit his head on a rock, Claudia. Knocked himself out – and you know yourself what happens when drunks roll about. The body goes limp.”

Actually, that was true…

“Orbilio’s problem,” Max chuckled, “is not that I might be a gangster, not even that I make more money than Midas by ripping off rich bastards hand over fist. His problem is, I have you!”

Claudia slipped off the armband, the one set with carnelians and pearls, and ran it round and round in her hand. “Like you have Soni, you mean?”

Aegean blue eyes flickered briefly. “Soni,” he said, “is a slave. Yes, I own slaves. Yes, unlike you, I don’t treat them as equals. And yes, I’ve been married five times, if that’s what you’re driving at, but I never think of women as chattels.” He drew a deep breath. “Whether you believe me or not is another matter,” he added.

“Whether I believe you,” she said slowly, “rests on my seeing Soni, face to face, right this minute.”

An astonished expression crossed Max’s face. “Are you serious?”

“Is there a problem?”

“No. No, of course not,” he stuttered. “It’s just that… It’s just that I’m jealous, my love. I know I can’t compete with a stripling half my age and whose pecs are solid steel, but… well, I’m not in bad shape and, unlike a slave, I can give you wealth unimaginable-”

Not unimaginable, Max. I’ve imagined it many times.

“I want to buy Soni,” she snapped, “not sleep with the boy.” If everything was above board, then there would be no obstacle. Max had denied her nothing so far.

“Ah.” For a moment, he faltered, then the old seductive laugh returned as he led her back through the lofty atrium, rich with its cedarwood oils. “In that case, darling, you must accept him as a gift, with my compliments. May he serve you as well as he’s served me.”

Claudia felt a tidal wave of relief wash over her. For once, Supersnoop was wide of the mark. Junius had simply cracked his head on a rock before falling down that ravine! But what of Soni?

Suppose, she thought, trailing her hand in the fountain as she passed, Max had decided to satisfy himself that Soni was all that he’d seemed? Soni’s refusal to comply with a criminal act would have blown his cover right out of the water, and suddenly Claudia was extremely keen to meet the man who had staged his own disappearance in broad daylight without arousing suspicion and yet had returned with a convincing explanation!

Glancing at Max, suave and easy, Claudia found no problem in picturing him up to his ears in racketeering, using the hunts as a front, both to make deals at the highest of levels and also to enforce any threats. He led her in to his office and clapped his hands. Immediately, a negro slave answered the call.

“Fetch Soni here, will you?”

“Master?” the old man’s face creased in a frown.

“Stop dithering, man. Just fetch him. Shoo!”

Strong hands poured two goblets of rich honey mead, hesitating a fraction before handing Claudia hers. “You- You aren’t going to marry me, are you?” Max asked quietly.

“No,” she admitted. “I’m not.”

His gifts were welcome, of course – the tiaras, the earstuds. But the Great Plan had been to ingratiate herself with his wealthy clientele and sign them up for hefty consignments of Seferius wine. Well-oiled (thanks to Max) they’d be pushovers for good, vintage wine and would be in no mood to worry about loaded prices. Especially when the alternative was this sickly concoction. Yuk. Two parts thunderbolt, one part bile, it was watered down with three ladlefuls of the River Styx. No wonder they had to add honey!

“Claudia -”

His voice came from down a dark tunnel, and the tunnel was closing in all around.

“Claudia?”

The voice echoed like stones in a barrel and her vision grew cloudy. Bloody mead! Filthy stuff.

“Is everything all right, darling?”

“Perfectly.”

But everything was not all right.

Jellified knees gave way. Lights went dim. And Claudia collapsed in a heap on the floor.