Murder on Euripides

by Scott A. Combs

  “Oh, I’ve been getting orders all day for her funeral. I’m so sorry another murder has happened. Two now from my reckoning. It’s just horrible. I heard that Sir Giles is fuming mad that it happened right in front of him. I would’ve expected more of a celebrated detective.”

  “I wouldn’t judge him too harshly. After all, he’s been in cryo-sleep for many years. That’s got to take its toll on the Terran mental faculties. I’m sure he’ll be more alert to the dangers that this crazed murderer is perpetrating soon.”

  She didn’t look convinced. “Still I’m very sorry it happened. Ambassador Toesle loved to visit the shop and smell the flowers.”

  “As we all are. Except for maybe the murderer.”

  “Right,” she said getting down to business. “Do you have preferences to the bereavement package?”

  Smythe handed her a note from Sir Giles. She read it and nodded. “I have just what he’s asking for.” She turned and the purser followed. “I’m guessing you want to have them for the eulogy on the flight deck tomorrow?”

  “Yes, please.”

  She went behind the counter to enter Sir Giles’ order on her digi-pad. Seeing Smythe still lingering after she finished the order, she gave him a curt smile. “You need something more?” Smythe looked sheepish. She first thought he was coming on to her until he fidgeted like most young men out of their comfort zone. “There’s someone you want to make a good first impression on?” He nodded. “Someone you’ve just met?” He nodded again. She gave him a sly look that he misinterpreted. “Someone not me?” He nodded again with a sigh, not wanting to be embarrassed. “And is this someone, say, a young SLASP agent traveling with her celebrity grandfather?”

  “How did you know?” He looked around to see if he was being surveilled. “I didn’t discuss this with anyone except that older couple that came on board early this morning.” He answered his own question. “Ah—Herbert and Martha.”

  She nodded. “They did mention a young man would be visiting the shop soon.” He looked like he’d been dashed on the Rocks of Embarrassment. “I think it’s quite cute you wanting to woo Sir Giles’ granddaughter. It’s too bad she’s SLASP though. You’re more likely going to need the flowers after she gets through with you.”

  “That’s what I’m worried about,” he groaned. “If she doesn’t like them she’s apt to pummel me to death for being so bold.”

  “Then we’d best get you just the right kind of flowers.” She tweaked his cheek with a flirting gesture. “Roses are too plain. The erotic sensu-smelling ones will be lost on her with all of her desensitizing training.” She snapped her fingers. “I have it!”

  “Great! What?”

  “What is it that all women love?”

  “I don’t know. That’s why I’m here. I’m looking for your expertise.”

  She shook her head seductively. He watched her act out plucking an imaginary fruit and pass it between her plump full lips and smacked them with delight.

  “Marvin’s not edible is he?” He looked worried. Marvin growled and slithered a tendril out of his pistil.

  She swatted him on the shoulder. “No, close though. Edible flowers. But not just any edible flowers. Flowers that have been genetically altered to taste just like chocolate. No woman can resist the pleasures of dark chocolate. It drives us crazy mad with passion. It used to be stylish to bring flowers and chocolates to a first date. Old-fashioned, I know, but sometimes the old traditions are the best ways to show just how you feel towards a young lady. Women want to feel special. Flowers are soft and have a pleasing smell while chocolate is an aphrodisiac. The things scientist can do nowadays is marvelous. A new shipment of these beautiful flowers came in right before this SLASP quarantine. They taste just like 70% dark chocolate truffles. Not too sweet, not too bitter. Just the right balance. And the stems are filled with mousse-like gel that’s to die for.”

  “That’s perfect. I’ll take a dozen.”

  * * *

  “YOU WERE RIGHT, GRANDFATHER.” Nanette laid her digi-pad down for Sir Giles to review the report, both of them scrutinizing the data from Ambassador Toesle’s murder scene.

  “Right about what exactly?” He perused the crime photos, searching for new details.

  “The fact that the murderer hacked the beauty salon’s protocols and overrode the safety features. That means the culprit has an extensive knowledge of computer science.”

  “Is that really a rare trait in this day and age?” he asked. “Programming has become a necessary skill, like reading or a second language. That fact isn’t going to narrow down the list of suspects very far. All we know now is the murderer can cook and program a digi-pad.”

  Nanette looked crestfallen. “I guess you’re right. But one thing we can use is the fact that the murderer has given us another clue to the next victim.”

  “Now that is something I can use. What did they find?”

  “More music lyrics were programed under the song that played and triggered the lasers. A verse from someone called Bon Jovi.” She read them out loud about loaded guns and the damage done.

  “What is this fixation with these trite verses?” He shook his head. “They’re not contemporary lyrics. It’s like the murderer wants to communicate to my younger self.”

  “Maybe that’s exactly what he’s thinking,” she concluded.

  “We don’t even know if the culprit is male or female. Although my instincts tell me that it is a him instead of a her. These murders seem so personal and cruel. Preying on the victims’ vanity. Certainly a female adversary could be behind them, but most of the time a female murderer doesn’t participate in such elaborate subterfuges. They are more likely to poison the victim or just shoot them in a blind rage. I’m missing the big picture.”

  “How so?” Nanette moved behind and hugged him to show support.

  He kissed her hand near his face. “When I was younger my mind would’ve pieced the clues into a coherent theory by now. This case seems unrelated except for the facts that both of the victims are Galactic Guild ambassadors.”

  “Maybe that’s all there is to it.” She released him. “Couldn’t the motive for murdering the ambassadors be simply to disrupt the government? What better way to divide the Galactic Guild than by murdering heads of state? Make each species fight among themselves until there is a war.”

  Sir Giles shook his head. “It can’t be that simple. I have a feeling that this turn of events is personally driven. Not solely political. Although politics could be a minor factor. I will have to cogitate on the matter more before theorizing a plausible motive.”

  He sat brooding, reading the digi-pad data while Nanette fidgeted with her chronometer. Something unsettling was clearly in the air. After the third time that she checked, Sir Giles looked up from his studying. “Isn’t it about time for you to get your first lesson with Roderick?” he asked. She shrugged with a pained look on her face. “My dear. You act as if you’re about to go into battle.”

  “I’m actually calmer before going to war. What if I suck at being feminine?”

  “You’re fretting over nothing. Believe me, young Smythe will be receptive to your womanly charms. After all, most men are ecstatic when a woman just happens to show up. He will be entranced when you express an interest in his companionship. I’m not trying to say you shouldn’t impress him; I’m expressing that you should be yourself. Do what feels right. I’m sure he will respond correctly.” As an afterthought, Sir Giles added, “Didn’t SLASP train you in the art of seduction?”

  “Yes.” She then thought back on her training. “It wasn’t very extensive. A few days of vidi-training and some fieldwork. I was very young then. Terran sexuality wasn’t a life-saving course. I excelled in the art of vivisection, warcraft and weaponry.” Sir Giles cringed. “My marksmanship was the highest in the class. No one could match my skill with the F73 las-rifle. Now there is a field weapon. A million Jules of accuracy. Long range and deadly. But my skills for the subtleties of seduction
were sorely lacking. I think I scored only in the sixty percentile in that training.”

  “That is why you need Roderick. He’ll show you the ins and outs of the craft. Grandfathers, although sympathetic, aren’t the best teachers for certain life lessons. You’ll have to trust me on this one. Let Roderick show you the ropes.”

  “It’s embarrassing.” She couldn’t stand still. “I’m just not equipped to be feminine.”

  “Nonsense. You have all the necessary features: two arms, two legs, two eyes, two . . . um . . . well you get the idea. Your packaging might be a little intimidating but I’m confident there’s a beautiful young woman underneath all that SLASP outer coating. Roderick will need to find the correct approach that works for you. I believe you’ll be surprised just how pleasing it is to become comfortable with the opposite sex.”

  “Surprised, I’m sure. But I doubt it will be pleasant.”

  There was a knocking on the door. Before Nanette could open it, the door slid open just enough to see the face of a cautious Latino.

  “Roderick,” she said. “Is it time already?”

  “Sí. Is it safe to come in, Señorita Nanette?”

  “Of course it is,” responded Sir Giles. “I was about to take a walk along the observation deck before a few hands of cards in the casino.” He gave Nanette a light peck on the forehead. “I’ll leave you in his capable hands.”

  Roderick came in hiding something behind his back.

  “I’ll meet up with you after we’re done here.”

  “No. I think you might want to go to the Moonlight Deck where a young man will be waiting for you. Isn’t that right, Roderick?”

  “Sí. Moonlight Deck. Roderick already made arrangements.”

  “You two are impossible.” She smiled nervously. “I have no say in this do I?” Both men shook their heads. “Fine. I’ll check in on you before you retire for the night.”

  Sir Giles winked at her as they parted. Instantly he was deeply engrossed with Nanette’s digi-pad screen and a few revealing facts.

  * * *

  NANETTE CRANED HER NECK to see the gift hidden behind Roderick’s back. “Did you bring me another towel pet?”

  He shook his head. “No, something much better.” She smiled, relaxing a bit. “I hope you like it.”

  “What is it?” She was pleasantly surprised at her excitement. “I can’t wait to see.”

  “You must be patient.” He waggled his index finger in the air. “Lesson first, rewards second.” Sneakily he placed her present out of eyesight.

  Nanette pouted. “Fine.” She huffed with disappointment.

  Roderick squinted an eye, disapproving of her demeanor. He imitated her but this time he batted his eyes and looked cute. “Fine.” His pout looked alluring in a feminine way. “See how Roderick expressed his dissatisfaction? A woman must always be provocative even when she is really angry. Especially when she’s angry.”

  Nanette thought about it. Roderick looked silly imitating a sweet demure woman. “Show me again.” He did. She aped the routine.

  “Sí. You got it.” Roderick clapped his hands. “Let me see how you walk to catch a man’s eye. How would you enter a room when Señor Smythe is present?”

  “Well,” she stammered looking for a clear area to begin her entrance. “I’d march right in, I suppose.”

  Roderick waved his hand to the door. “Let’s see your stuff.”

  She felt exhilarated at his urgings, skipping a step to the door and twirling around. Then she smoothed her uniform down the sides. “Ready?” Roderick nodded. She marched right in as if she were in a squad of SLASP agents. Her shoulders didn’t swivel and her gait was methodical and precise. Roderick pinched up his face. Then he shook his head. “No good?”

  “Sí.”

  “Is that yes for no good or yes for good?”

  “Definitely no good. No man will ever notice you if you look like a machine walking.”

  “That bad?” He nodded. “Then how should I walk into a room?” Roderick went to the door and instantly he was in character as a beguiling woman. His lips puckered up, his eyes batted, his hips swished and he seductively walked into the room. Nanette’s eyes widened with each of his steps, envisioning herself swishing and swaying.

  “Really? You want me to act like that?” He nodded. “Okay. You’re the teacher, I’m the student.” She went to the door again, turned and tried to remember all the moving parts. She puckered up her lips, she batted her eyes, she swished her hips and stumbled into the room. “I suck at being a woman.”

  “No. First time is always difficult. Try again.”

  She did and was better but not by much. She rolled her eyes wondering just how long it was going to take to instill these feminine traits. “I can do better. Let me see you do it again.” He did. She watched him and analyzed every move. Thinking she got it she nudged him aside and started over. This time she relaxed and let it flow naturally.

  Roderick saw the new Nanette. “Yee-haw! Maravilloso Señorita Nanette. Now you’re catching on.” She smiled. “Let’s try a little more before you meet Señor Smythe tonight. What would you do if he brushed up next to you?”

  “In what way?”

  Roderick came closer and brushed her arm as if by accident. Nanette responded instinctively by flipping him head over heels onto the floor with the offending arm and rammed her boot into his throat.

  “I’d take him down.”

  Roderick gasped for air as his face reddened under the force. The boot released and his face returned to its natural coloring. He got up and stroked his throat. “Maybe we should warn Señor Smythe that he should keep his distance?”

  Nanette felt like a failure. “I can’t seem to control myself. I’m a killing machine.”

  “You didn’t kill me; just put me in my place.” He rubbed his aching shoulder. “Let’s try again.”

  “Really?”

  Roderick’s eyes widened and he swallowed hard. With a forced grin he nodded. He got into position and slowly this time he moved in until he brushed her arm. She resisted attacking. Roderick showed her his intention and very slowly placed her hand in his. Her hand felt like steel as he squeezed it slightly. She squeezed back and his bones cracked under the strain.

  “Yeow!” He pried his hand away. “¡Ay, caramba!” He began rubbing the metacarpal bones. “Señorita Nanette has a strong grip.”

  She looked at her hands and shrugged her shoulders. “I guess so. A little too strong for holding hands?”

  He nodded. “You need to remember Señor Smythe is breakable. He’s no SLASP agent. He’s just a nice man. A man who wants to hold your hand. No criminal!”

  “I’ll try my best not to break him.”

  “Good. Then it’s time for your reward.” Roderick handed her a petite, sleeveless black Culotte knit dress. Its waistline was high on her hips as he lined it up to her shoulders. “I buy Señorita Nanette new dress to show off figure.”

  Nanette gauged the dip in the neckline. “It isn’t too low-cut is it?”

  Roderick nodded slyly. “We want Señor Smythe to be interested, Sí?”

  “Sí,” she agreed.

  Roderick turned her around and pointed to her room. “You try on.”

  Before she moved, he also handed her a small lace-covered box. She looked at it thinking it appeared a little naughty. “More gifts?”

  “A little extra something to tempt the bee to the honey pot.” He blushed.

  She opened the box to find a sexy pushup bra and matching lacy pair of panties. “Roderick, you dirty little devil.”

  “Icing on cake,” he commented waving her away. “Now, you go try on.”

  She left and came back wearing his gifts. Roderick wolf whistled and flipped his hands in the air like they were on fire. “You gonna scorch Señor Smythe’s eyes, Señorita Nanette.”

  She felt wonderfully girly for the first time in her life, new energy had her sashaying into the room.

  Chapter 4

 
; Dating 101

  THE CASINO WAS ABLAZE WITH activity. Slots flashed, roulette wheels twirled, cards thrummed, shuffling as Sir Giles looked for what was his favorite card game, baccarat. It appeared to be out of fashion among all the glittering displays of noisy bantering among electronic games but he did find a table nestled in the back beyond the hubbub of the modern gambling. This table, a half circle of green felt and hand carved bumpers, stood vacant except for the croupier who stood behind holding his baccarat pallet, bored to tears. Sir Giles took a seat.

  “Evening sir.” The croupier nodded. “How are you doing on this festive night?”

  “Very fine.” He looked around at all the other games unimpressed with all the gimmicky enticings. “I take it baccarat is not very popular on board the Euripides?”

  “Or any other part of the Galactic Guild. I’m afraid it’s fallen out of favor with most of the patrons.”

  “That’s very unfortunate,” commented Sir Giles. “It’s a wonderful game of chance. I used to be a pretty good player a hundred odd years ago.”

  The croupier’s right eyebrow rose. “Am I to understand you’re well over a hundred years of age? If you are, you are very well preserved.” Sir Giles smiled with a slight nod. “Then I must be in the presence of one Sir Giles Thackery?” Sir Giles winked. “It is my great pleasure to be your croupier tonight. My name is Bartleby. Would you like to imbibe with one of our specialty drinks? We have Sloe Gin Bubbles from Fizzalon, Pan Galactic Bombers from Adamseppilo, or my favorite: Whiskey Sour Powder-kegs from Patchchilds.”

  “No thank you.” Sir Giles rubbed his goatee thoughtfully. “Bartleby, can the barkeep make me a jigger of Bombay Sapphire gin over ice, wait thirty seconds before adding a twist of lime and a spritz of tonic water?” He paused. “Prepared in that order? I’m very particular about my mixology.”

  “I can understand a fine drink needs just the proper technique to bring out the optimum taste.” Bartleby snapped his fingers in the air and a lovely young vixen, scantily clad with striped headtails, was summoned. She received the order and began to prepare the drink through a synthesizing mixer. Sir Giles frowned. Bartleby didn’t miss his irritation. “None of that, Monique. Sir Giles wants a real drink, done the old-fashioned way.” She looked confused. “By hand,” he clarified.