Scandal takes a Holiday

Marcus, from what I've been reading so far in the Daily Gazette, he had enough fun applying his creativity to Flavia Conspicua seems to have grown bored with marriage very soon. Hardly has she been snatched from her mother's arms by the eligible Gaius Mundanus, than rumour has it Flavia [heiress to the Splendidus estates and an experienced amateur flute-player, is already seeing her old love Gaudius again." I invented that," Helena assured me.

Sounds good. Your Flavia is hot stuff?"

Always popular on the bachelor circuit."

Blonde?"

Auburn, I should say. No figure, but a lovely nature; she'll do anything for anyone."

You can take that several ways."

Oh quite!"

Tell me, is flute-playing" some ripe shorthand in scandal column terms?" I queried.

Very much so," said Helena, with the gravity I loved so well. You would think all Rome would sound like a wind instrument orchestra, given the prevailing loose morals. Flavia's fingering is legendary, her breath control is lovely, and it's thought she even sometimes has a go at the double-ended tibia." To avoid encouraging my loved one's filthy mind, I concentrated on squeezing the bundle of clothes between a temple portico and a mason's cart that had been left parked rather tight against the streetside building line. Hot and weary, we stopped by at the house where Petronius and Maia were living, where we allowed Maia to fan us and furbish us with mint tea. We were forced to be introduced to the owner, who was visiting to oversee the installation of a fountain. It was a statue of a naked Young Dionysius; in the throes of his early wine-drinking lessons, the handsome god [who I thought looked rather like me when young, made the waterspout by peeing. Since the house-owner was a building contractor, I assume this tasteful artwork had been pinched from some unfortunate client. Perhaps it had been chipped slightly on the bunch of grapes as it was delivered, and became a return', with no visible refund on the final account. Petro's benefactor was called Privatus and had a shiny bald head, over which he had drawn long strands of thin greying hair. They crossed on top, creating a loose darn of fake locks which would blow apart in the slightest gust of wind. Not tall, the builder was bony and knock-kneed. I had met men who were more flash, but he reeked of social ambition and consciousness of his own success. You guessed. I did not take to him. Petronius was out. In an uppity mood, Maia took great delight in explaining to Privatus that I was an informer, in Ostia to find a missing scribe. I prefer to keep quiet about a mission, until I have the measure of a new acquaintance. Maia knew that.

So, what would you say are your chances of finding this Diocles?" asked Privatus. It was a fair question. I tried not to bridle.

At the moment it looks unlikely I can go much further." I sounded more pleasant than I felt.

Marcus Didius is being modest," Helena declared loyally. He has a long history of solving difficult cases." Privatus looked nervous. It takes people that way. So what do you reckon happened, Falco?"

At this juncture, it's impossible to say."

How does an informer, excuse me asking so much, by the way how do you go about finding a lost person, Falco?" People are always curious about my work. I sighed, then went through the rigmarole. Before I left Rome, I checked at the Temple of Aesculapius in case he had been hospitalised, or dumped there for burial. Here, I asked Petronius Longus to see if my man has been arrested by the vigiles for some reason, negative, and now the patrols are looking out for him. They should spot him if he's wandering in a daze. If he just changed lodgings because he couldn't stand his landlady, my task will be much harder."

Sounds like hard work!" exclaimed the builder, clearly unconvinced. I smiled bravely. Have you ever heard of anyone in Ostia called Damagoras?" Privatus posed, pretending to think. Afraid not, Falco." I should have asked Privatus about his work. Still, he had probably heard that informers are famous for their bad manners. His life presumably was one long happy round of rebuilding the docks when holes he left the last time started letting in water. Helena and I quickly drank up our mint tea, then I took her home. She remembered the note-tablets. With skill, I managed to leave behind Diocles" dirty laundry, which I had left standing on the well swept marble floor, in the atrium of Privatus" tasteful home.

VIII