Murder on Euripides

by Scott A. Combs

  Chapter 3

  Vanity’s Child

  SMYTHE CHUGGED INTO THE BRIDAL suite with a massive load of luggage under his arms, in his hands and even a few tethered in tow with anti-grav lines. He dropped the non-anti-grav bags with a thud! One bag under his arm fell and broke open spewing a plethora of pill bottles out onto the carpeting.

  “Dammit boy,” roared Herbert. “Be careful with that. Those pills are the only thing keeping me alive these days. Ah, look what you’ve done.”

  The older couple entered, crowding close to their exhausted purser. “Sorry, sir.” Smythe began picking up the various bottles, blister packs, aerosols, gels, creams and ointments. “Seems like a lot of medicine. Would you like me to make an appointment for you to see the ship’s internal medical doctor?”

  “Hell no, son.” Herbert began helping Smythe gather up the meds. “I’ve had it up to here with them damn doctors.” He motioned to his forehead. “Every time I sneeze or scratch my butt some doctor is making a note in their charts. Then they get together and confer to conclude that I have some unknown condition that needs treatment.” Herbert picked up a pill bottle. “This one’s for my heart to slow it down.” He picked up another. “This one’s to speed up the heart. Somewhere around here is another to relax the heart so it doesn’t get a notion to pump too hard. And another to make it pump stronger. I’m like some strange cocktail of chemicals. A little of this, a pinch of that, shake to mix, keeps Herbert fit.” He laughed tossing another bottle to Smythe. “That one cleans my liver out but it gives me a rash.” He picked up an ointment. “That’s for the rash.”

  Smythe picked up the biggest bottle filled with little blue pills. “What’s this one for?”

  Herbert reached for the bottle, looked at it and smiled. “These are my love pills.”

  “Love pills?”

  “Martha, this young man has a lot to learn about married life.”

  Martha giggled seeing the bottle in Herbert’s hands. Herbert eyes twinkled. “One of these little guys’ll make your Johnson as stiff as a bean pole. Two will make it last longer. Maybe too long actually. You can hoist a flag and wave it proudly until sundown.”

  “Really? I’ve never had the need.”

  “You won’t need any until you’re much older,” mentioned Martha in a matter of fact tone. “Older men have the will for love making but the body doesn’t seem to remember how to do it. Those pills help.”

  “If you don’t mind me asking,” said Smythe, “do you ever get tired of . . . um . . . ”

  “Sex?” asked Herbert. “Don’t be shy. There’s nothing to be ashamed of. No is your answer. You only slow down a bit when you get older. The passion flame mellows but the pilot light is still lit.”

  Martha hugged Herbert around his neck and gave him a kiss on the head. “It’s just different. Less frantic. Actually I’m happier now than when we were growing our family. The young folks all seem stressed out while we just enjoy being closer.”

  “Sounds wonderful.” Smythe placed the last of the meds back in the bag. “But first I have to find the right girl.”

  Martha took the bag from Smythe. “A handsome young man like yourself shouldn’t have any problems finding a girl. We will keep our eyes open for a nice one.”

  Smythe shrugged.

  Herbert scowled. “You ain’t one of them fruity boys are you? I wouldn’t know how to pick out a guy for a guy.”

  “No sir. Strictly looking for a girl for me.” He tugged on the largest bag. Bending his knees a bit he lifted the heavy bag with two hands. Straining he said, “I’ve not had much time to look for a girl being head purser on such a big ship.”

  “You must make planet-side some time?” asked Herbert. “What’s that old saying—a pretty lass in every port?”

  “Not for me,” said Smythe. “I’m too loyal to be promiscuous. I’m more of a one girl kind of guy. Besides, my career gets in the way of a serious relationship.”

  “Don’t waste time building a career, son,” advised Herbert. “Not without a good wife at your side. A career is just a time sucker.”

  “Very true, Herbert,” came the voice of Martha from the bedroom. “God, family, career is the proper order for a healthy, happy life. Too many young folks have forgotten that simple axiom.”

  “Take our advice,” said Herbert patting Smythe on the back as the young man waddled to the bedroom. “Find a girl. Settle down. And have lots of babies. You’ll be the happiest purser in the fleet knowing there’s someone waiting for you when you get home.”

  “There is one girl actually. A woman really. She’s with her grandfather on board.”

  “That SLASP agent?!” Smythe nodded. “Hoo-eee!” Herbert whistled. “Sir Giles’ granddaughter? Granted, she is pretty son, in a leathery kind of way. But a SLASP agent is still a SLASP agent. She’ll snap your Johnson off at the roots if you get her pissed off with you.”

  “I know,” Smythe groaned. “But I don’t seem to mind the idea. All I know is she took my heart from the moment I set eyes on her.”

  “Ah,” cooed Martha. “Love at first sight. It took us just a couple times being together to know we were meant for each other. Isn’t that right, Herbert?”

  “Actually we only saw each other six times in six months before I asked Martha to be my wife.”

  “He swept me off my feet,” she volunteered. “Literally. I had to ask him to put me down.”

  “She was a lot lighter back then,” whispered Herbert.

  Martha smacked him affectionately. “I heard that. Just because I have hearing aids doesn’t mean I can’t hear. And yes, I was smaller back then.”

  “The prettiest girl I ever laid eyes on. So, young Smythe. If you want this girl you’re gonna have to sweep her off her feet.”

  “If I do, she’ll break my neck or something worse.”

  “Hmm,” Herbert rubbed his chin thinking. “I see your point. The average courting procedures are gonna need altering for your case. This Nanette girl is stronger.” Smythe nodded. “Smarter.” Smythe nodded again. “And military bred to kill on instinct.” Smythe’s eyes widened and he nodded emphatically. “I suggest not joking around with her or any fun-play like tickling. They could be hazardous to your health.”

  “Okay,” agreed Smythe. “No fun-play. Be serious. How do I start?”

  Herbert looked at Martha. Martha looked at Herbert. Herbert and Martha looked at Smythe.

  “Flowers.”

  * * *

  NANETTE PACED, ARMS FOLDED. Sir Giles sat with his legs crossed on the sofa divan meditating on the morning’s events. Every time Nanette reached the end of the throw rug she harrumphed, twirled and paced in the opposite direction. With each harrumph Sir Giles lifted one eyelid to see what was the matter. Finally, he gave up meditating and sat back and stretched his arms along the top of the divan.

  Nanette stopped pacing when she felt him staring at her. “What?”

  “That’s what I was going to ask you.”

  She flung her arms about then stood unladylike with shoulders drooping. “Am I pretty?” She gestured to her body.

  “What kind of question is that? Of course you’re pretty.”

  “What makes me pretty? Be honest.”

  “Your lovely auburn hair and green swirled hazel eyes.”

  She ran her hands through her hair disheveling its wash-and-wear look. She looked unhappy tugging on an unruly tuft. “Are those my best features?”

  “Um . . . This isn’t going to end well. Tell me what’s really bothering you.”

  “Last night I realized I’m lonely. I mean really lonely. Like man-hungry lonely. Does this make you uncomfortable? I’ll stop if it does—but, I hope it doesn’t.”

  “A little,” said Sir Giles. “But there’s nothing to be upset over. Everyone goes through these phases.”

  “SLASP agents don’t. At least I didn’t think we did.”

  “You’re only Terran, my dear.” Sir Giles rose and tried to comfort her. “Wh
at started all this?”

  “I don’t know,” she turned and paced again. “This case. This place. These people. Señor Snuggles.”

  “Señor Snuggles?”

  “It’s a long story. Let’s just say I hugged a makeshift teddy bear while I slept last night. When I woke up this morning I found I’d been crying and poor Señor Snuggles was shredded to bits. Then I cried some more about shredding Señor Snuggles to bits. I’m a mess.”

  “It’s just stress,” volunteered Sir Giles. “It’ll pass once I stop the murderer.”

  “I don’t think so. I think it’s tied to Smythe. I feel different when I’m around him. Not necessarily in a good way.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You won’t laugh will you?”

  “Never, my dear. If you’re in distress I want to know how to make it better for you.”

  She circled her toe on the rug like a little girl caught with a hand in the cookie jar. “I want him. I want to devour him. Every last bit of him until I gobble him up.”

  “Good heavens,” gasped Sir Giles placing a hand over his mouth. “This is a first for the Thackery Family. A cannibal in our lineage.”

  She smacked him on the shoulder. “Not literally. Figuratively.”

  “Oh,” said Sir Giles rubbing his bruised shoulder. “You’re smitten with Smythe.”

  “Oh my Maker,” she groaned. “Is that what this is?”

  “It’s not a disaster,” commented Sir Giles. “Sexual urges are not a curse you know.”

  “It is if it’s not sanctioned by Command!” Nanette was beside herself. “You know this can’t go on. I’m SLASP. If Command finds out about my infatuation with Smythe they’ll . . . .”

  “Do absolutely nothing.”

  She stopped, flabbergasted at his response. “How can you be so certain? I remember a cadet in the academy having a tryst. They found out about the affair and her lover was never heard of again. Poof! Gone. Finito. She then was sent to the frontier where no one heard of her again. And I don’t want to go to the frontier where there’s no running water or toilets.”

  “I’ve actually taken precautions on your behalf.”

  “What?”

  “I’ve intercepted any loose lips about your apparent condition on board the Euripides.” Sir Giles looked smug. “I noticed your behavior yesterday. I called Admiral Tanker and explained our situation and your potential intimacy with young Mister Smythe.”

  “You what?!” Her body began to shake with anger. “Oh for the Maker’s sake. I’m ruined.” She buried her face in her hands and began to weep. “M-mmm’m-mmmmm-mmm-mmm-mmmm.”

  “I’m sorry dear. I didn’t catch that last statement.”

  She lifted her head, eyes watery. “I said, I can’t believe you did that.”

  “There will be no repercussions from fraternizing with young Mister Smythe. Relax, enjoy yourself. The boy won’t disappear. I promise. I have Admiral Tanker’s word on it. Besides, I have something much worse on Admiral Tanker than a little impropriety.”

  “So you blackmailed him?” Nanette looked mortified.

  “Of course.” Sir Giles was completely unashamed. “You deserve to explore your feelings like everybody else. This is a good thing. I told him that you’ll tire of the boy and be a better operative than before. So go ahead. Gobble Smythe up. Spit him out and get in touch with your true feelings. Think of this as another training mission. We’ll call it operation Sow Your Wild Oats.”

  Nanette couldn’t help but laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation once the scope of it sunk in. Sir Giles hugged her affectionately. Nanette looked up into the older man’s eyes and kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you—I think.”

  “You’re welcome. Now we’re left with you feeling you’re not pretty enough for young Mister Smythe. I assure you he thinks you’re very pretty.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I’m Sir Giles Thackery. The famous Galactic Guild super sleuth. I see all. I know all.”

  She chuckled. “Still, I’m not very womanly. I’m more brawn than buxom.” She indicated her small breasts by pointing to them.

  “Well, big surprises come in small packages. You’re just the right size. You’ll see. All you need to do is accessorize. That’s why we need to go meet Ambassador Toesle and have your nails decorated.”

  “You really think I can turn Smythe’s head with some toenail polish?”

  “Just toenail polish? No—but add toenail polish, some fragrance and a little womanly charm and you’ll have the boy eating out of the palm of your hand.”

  “I don’t have any womanly charm,” she groaned. “I can barely walk in high heels.”

  “You just need a little help. Some beguiling training. That’s why I mentioned your situation to Roderick.”

  “Who else knows about my sexual urges?”

  “No one,” said Sir Giles. He crossed his heart. “I only mentioned it to Roderick because he’s very discreet. He took it as an honor to instruct you in the art of feminine wiles.”

  “Geez. I don’t know if I’m upset or excited now. I’m going to learn how to be a woman from a male valet.”

  “A very enthusiastic, passionate Latino valet. Who else knows the feminine heart better than a Latino?”

  * * *

  NANETTE AND SIR GILES SAT in reclining loungers in the beautician shop with cucumber slices over their eyes and feet submerged in agitating water being cleaned by Lumpurian skin-eating fish. Sir Giles, totally relaxed to the point of falling asleep, began snoring slowly while Nanette sat rigid trying not to flinch as the tiny fish feasted on the dead skin of her toes. The little scaly beasts thrashed about splashing and churning the water into a frenzy. Sir Giles’ water hardly moved as his skin-eaters lazed about nibbling peacefully.

  A thirty-something Terran woman by the name of Babs—clearly embroidered on her blouse—stood over Nanette with an electrical prod poised to thrust the long pointy thing into her tub. Wearing way too much makeup and a towering bouffant hairdo, the intimidating Babs said, “Honey, I need you to lift your feet up out of the water for just a sec.”

  “Sure.” A few of the fish clung to the ends of her toes tenaciously.

  The beautician bent down and plucked the eager feeders from Nanette’s toes and dropped them into the water. She then lanced the tub, shocking the water with a sizzling zap of electricity. The fish calmed down remarkably quick. “You’ve never had this done before have you?”

  “No,” responded Nanette. “How’d you guess?”

  “My boys are overjoyed at all the dead skin on your feet. Sometimes they can get aggressive when there’s too much for them to eat. You can drop your feet back in now.”

  “Okay.” The little fish resumed their meal but with noticeably less vigor. “Oh, that tickles.”

  Babs lifted the cucumber slices from Sir Giles’ peepers, inspecting the bagginess under each hazel eye. “Let’s give those eyes a few more minutes.” She replaced the slices to his drowsy approval. “How are you doing, Sir Giles?”

  He cleared his throat. “Pleasantly relaxed,” he mumbled coming fully awake.

  “Some folks really enjoy this part of the foot massage,” said Babs. “Pedicures have a unique calming effect.” She turned her conversation back to Nanette. “What do you think, Miss Thackery?”

  Nanette wriggled in her seat, tensing with every nibble. “Very calming.” She jerked her leg as she felt a fish pry her big toe open to gobble down deep.

  Sir Giles shifted his weight and rocked his feet to allow the fish to reach his arches. “We have an informal meeting with Ambassador Toesle at six bells. I believe I must’ve slept through it. Did I miss her?”

  “No—I’m surprised she isn’t here yet.” Babs looked at a pink chronometer that hung about her neck. “She’s late for her appointment. Podiatrons never miss an opportunity to have their feet worked on. Something very important must’ve come up. I’ll just go and give her aide a call. Don’t go away now.” Babs
left.

  “So what do you really think so far?” asked Sir Giles removing one of the cucumber slices to peer at his granddaughter.

  Nanette bit her lip and flicked a hungry fish with a deft toe-chop. “Women do the oddest things in the name of beauty.” She lifted her karate-chopping toes out of the water and cracked them like stiff knuckles. “You do know I can kill an assailant with my little piggies?”

  “I was not aware that you were so skilled. I shudder to think how many rampaging Lumpurian fish you could ward off with those weapons.”

  She hooked her pinkie fingers out threateningly. “Millions more with these little beauties.” She grinned.

  He chuckled. “You are a woman of many talents, my dear.”

  “Yeah.” She placed her elbows on her knees and cupped her head in the palms of her hands. “Not only can I incapacitate cold blooded creatures, I can also debone them with my dull edged fingers. I’m every man’s dream date.”

  “That’s why we are here,” he assured her. “Don’t be so quick to dismiss your gifts. Young Mister Smythe might enjoy a little game of footsie. That is, if your instincts don’t kick in first, rendering him unconscious.”

  “I can’t guarantee that.” She looked dispirited.

  “Cheer up. This is only the beginning of your metamorphosis. Like a caterpillar in its chrysalis, you will emerge reborn into Aphrodite. It starts right here with those man-eating toes of yours. We will make them beautiful beyond compare.”

  Nanette didn’t look convinced.

  “Give your grandfather some credit. Do you think I was always God’s gift to women?”

  She looked him up and down. He did seem to be exceedingly handsome. It was hard to see him any other way but debonair.

  “I wasn’t.” He chuckled. “I was a total introvert. Women confounded me. I had no idea how to relate to the fairer sex.”

  “That’s very hard for me to believe when I see you easily have every female in the Galactic Guild eating out of the palm of your hand.”

  “It’s all theatrics. And a few props.”

  “Really?”

  “Perception, my dear.” He caressed her cheek lovingly. “Style and panache with an acute eye to detail works in my favor with women. I’ve had the great advantage of being in their company for more years than you. I’ve had many failed lessons learned. You have to have confidence in your abilities. Like your SLASP training, learning the art of love will become second nature to you with time.”