David Wishart - Food for the Fishes

‘Right. Right.’ I shifted on the chair. ‘And apart from the fits Murena was generally healthy, was he? For a man of his age?’

‘Moderately so. He had a slight tendency towards dyspepsia, but not a developed one. And as I say that complaint is endemic to Baiae.’

‘His widow said he was concerned about his health. More than usual, that is. Were you treating him for anything else?’

The frostiness was still there. ‘Valerius Corvinus, I’ve already told you. I can’t answer for any statements except my own. And there is such a thing as patient confidentiality, even when the patient is dead.’ I waited. ‘In any case, the practical answer to your question is no, apart from a simple standard dyspepsia mixture to be taken as required. I don’t believe in treatment for treatment’s sake, even when the patient or one of his relatives suggests it. Barring administering the regimen I’ve already described I took no other action.’

One of his relatives. Interesting expansion there. Maybe it meant nothing, but still…

Bathyllus had arrived with the wine. ‘How about your relationship with the widow herself?’ I said as he poured.

‘How do you mean, “relationship”?’ Forget frosty; the look he was giving me was straight off an Alp.

‘You get on with her okay?’

Pause; long pause. Well, he was a smart guy; he must’ve heard the rumours, even if there was nothing in them. ‘Gellia is…was…my patient’s wife,’ he said.

‘And?’

I’d seriously annoyed him, I could see that. The eyes narrowed to slits and the nose lifted a good two inches. It was like being glared at down a ruler. Even so, he took his time answering. ‘And nothing!’ he snapped. ‘Let me make one thing very clear, Valerius Corvinus. A doctor — any doctor who merits the name — ascribes voluntarily to a code of conduct. This includes an oath not to procure poison or an abortion, to work solely for the good of his patient and to abstain from the seduction of anyone, slave or free, in his patient’s household. I am a doctor. Please remember the fact.’

Well, that was me told. But at least it was out in the open, whatever the truth of the matter was. It was time to smooth down a few ruffled feathers. ‘Fair enough,’ I said. ‘Okay. Let’s leave the medical side of things. What about Murena himself?’

‘Again I have to ask you what you mean.’ His voice was still icily polite. ‘And to remind you what I said about confidentiality.’

‘Understood. But you’re local, I’m not, and you know the family. He was a businessman, right?’

‘He was.’

‘You know anything about the business side of things?’

‘No. I’m not a businessman myself, in the general sense of the word. Licinius Murena never discussed anything with me except for his health. And if you expect me to — ’

‘No hassle, pal. I’m only interested in generalities. I could get them elsewhere, sure, but since you’re here maybe you can help fill in a few details. That be okay?’

He gave a guarded nod. ‘Possibly.’

‘Great. Thanks.’ Jupiter! We’d a real touchy bugger here! ‘Murena had a partner, Tattius.’

‘Decimus Tattius, yes.’

‘He live locally?’

‘I think he has a villa on the main road, about a quarter mile inland from Murena’s.’

‘It’s a long-established partnership?’

‘Yes. As far as I know. I understand they were colleagues in Rome before Murena moved to Baiae permanently twenty-odd years ago. Political colleagues.’ He was relaxing. Or at least the urbane politeness was back. I doubted if the guy ever let himself relax altogether; he had that uptight, preoccupied feel to him that you get with people who don’t look past their jobs. ‘He doesn’t take a very active part in the business, though. That’s largely a family concern.’

‘Did Licinius Murena have a nickname for him?’ That was Perilla. Odd question, but then I’d told her about Ligurius and the lady’s mind sometimes works in strange directions. I glanced at her curiously.

So did Diodotus, and his eyebrows went up. ‘He did, as a matter of fact. He called him Oistrus. Why do you ask?’

‘No particular reason. It’s just that Marcus mentioned he had a habit of giving people nicknames and I just wondered. Thank you.’

Oistrus. ‘Gadfly’ in Greek. ‘While we’re on the subject of nicknames,’ I said, ‘how about the others? His family, I mean?’

‘I don’t see what relevance — ’

‘Just filling in background. Come on, pal, it can’t do any harm.’

He was frowning. ‘Very well. Gellia was the Butterfly. For, ah, obvious reasons. Aulus Nerva was Agyrtes.’

‘“Scoundrel”?’ Perilla said.

‘“Vagabond” is better.’ His lips twisted. ‘Your Greek vocabulary is excellent, madam.’

‘What about Titus Chlorus?’

He hesitated. I had the impression he might’ve balked if I’d asked the question, but Perilla was good at these things. ‘Scythrops.’

Scowler. Good name for Chlorus. I grinned. ‘The daughter. Penelope. Was he responsible for that one as well?’

‘I couldn’t really say.’ Diodotus was still frowning. ‘I would hardly have thought so, or not in the way you mean. It’s not really a nickname as such, is it? But in any case we’re verging too much on the personal here, certainly beyond my professional capacity. If you’re finished I should be going.’

‘Murena was thinking of building a hotel,’ I said. ‘On the Juventius estate. You know anything about that?’

‘I told you. We didn’t discuss business.’

‘Not even in general terms?’

He hesitated. ‘He did mention it, once or twice. Just the bare fact, not in any detail.’

‘I get the impression the idea isn’t too highly thought of locally. Am I right?’

Another hesitation. ‘It may cause certain…frictions, yes.’

‘Who with?’

His brows came down. ‘Corvinus, I came here to offer what help and information I could as Murena’s doctor. Perhaps we’re moving a little far from — ’

‘Please?’ Perilla said.

‘Very well.’ He cleared his throat. ‘Although this is really none of my concern, you understand, and I have patients to attend to this afternoon. Murena…it was felt that Murena’s business interests should stop at fish-breeding. Tourists and tourism are another matter. There are already several businessmen in the town who operate in that area and who are…perhaps one could say a little upset at the prospect of having to compete with someone they view as an outsider.’

‘Such as?’ I said. ‘Oh, come on, pal! I’m not asking you to tell me anything I couldn’t find out from elsewhere.’

‘The main one is a gentleman by the name of Philippus. Licinius Philippus.’ Diodotus stood up suddenly. ‘Now I really must be going. If there’s anything more I can do for you, within the medical sphere — ’

‘Licinius Philippus?’ I said. ‘He’s Murena’s freedman?’

‘Oh, yes. Indeed. But he was freed a long time ago, as a very young man. Now he’s one of the richest men in Baiae.’ He held out his hand. ‘I’m delighted to have met you.’ He nodded to Perilla. ‘Madam.’

We watched him go.

‘So, lady,’ I said, when he’d disappeared back through the portico. ‘What do you think?’

Perilla was twisting her hair. ‘He’s a very cold, precise person, isn’t he? Very…serious-minded.’

‘Yeah.’ I sipped the wine. ‘That was the impression I got. Probably a whizz at his job because he can’t see far outside it. Which doesn’t argue for a relationship with Gellia, does it?’

‘Not very well. Or not on his side, rather, even without his disclaimer. I can see, though, how she’d find him attractive.’