I heard from him two years ago, and not a word since. He called me out of the blue to “check up” on me. The conversation quickly turned to money. He’d lost his shirt in some failed business venture. If I lent him a couple thousand credits, he’d pay me back twofold. I hung up when he was midsentence.
As far as I was concerned, I had no brother.
My mom didn’t mention Socrates much. Not because she was mad at him, but because he’d hurt her with what he’d done. Knowing she was sad because of him made me want to hunt him down and kick the crap out of him.
“What’s wrong?” Mom asked, slicing a tomato.
I shook my head and smiled. “Nothing.”
“You should know by now that you can’t hide anything from me.”
“I’m not hiding anything.”
“No, you’re not. Your troubles are written all over your face.”
I didn’t like where this was going. It was time to change the subject. “I saw Uncle Magus not too long ago.”
“Oh! How is he?”
“He’s doing fine. Still running the shop.”
“That’s good. Tell him if he doesn’t call me more often, he’s going to be in big trouble.”
I gave a thumbs-up. “Will do.”
James sauntered into the kitchen and sat across from me. He had ditched the salsa clothes for a white, V-neck T-shirt and pair of cream leisure pants.
“Your mom tells me you’re a private eye,” he said to me.
“That’s right.”
“How’s that going for you?”
“Business is good.”
Mom sighed as she opened a jar of mayo. “I still don’t know why you gave up that nice government job to go play detective.”
“It wasn’t for me.”
She shook her head and spread some of the mayo on a slice of bread.
Mom knew I used to work for the OBI. Alexis knew too. What they didn’t know was that I was a field agent, involved in covert ops. As far as they were concerned, I used to be a pencil-pusher with a corner office at OBI headquarters. I didn’t like lying to them, but telling the truth was too dangerous.
Keeping your workplace identity a secret is the first rule of being an OBI agent. The second is to never share classified information with civilians. Agents who break those rules tend to disappear.
“Working on any interesting cases?” James asked me.
“Nothing special. Say, Jim, what exactly do you do for a living?”
Mom answered for him. “James owns a successful toilet paper company.”
James smiled broadly.
“How fitting,” I said.
Mom brought me a roast beef sandwich with all the trimmings, a humongous slice of baklava, and a tall glass of tea. I bit into the sandwich. The taste hadn’t changed since I was a kid. Delicious.
Mom started making sandwiches for her and James—sliced cucumber and eggplant between slices of tofu. I was pretty sure Mom didn’t come up with the recipe. She’d never been much of a health nut.
“Have you talked to Alexis lately?” she asked.
“More often than I’d like to,” I answered, my mouth full.
“How is she?”
“She’s still the same old Alexis. Annoying. Argumentative. Constantly telling me how I should live my life.”
“It sounds like she still cares about you.”
“Maybe. But I’ve moved on.”
Mom’s eyes widened. “Does that mean you’ve found someone else?”
I shook my head.
She sighed. “Oh, PJ.”
“I just haven’t found the right woman yet.”
“Well, you’d better hurry up and find her. I want to know what it’s like to be a grandmother before I kick the bucket.”
“Mom!”
“I’m just saying.” Mom finished making the sandwiches and brought them to the table.
The three of us ate and chatted. Mom and James kept making eyes at each other. I could sense that they were playing footsie under the table. I wanted to say, “Do you two mind? I’m trying to eat.” But I couldn’t find it in myself to give them a hard time. After everything Mom had been through—with Dad dying and Socrates running off—she deserved to be happy.
I wasn’t too fond of Jim. I didn’t like his stupid mustache. Or his super-smooth voice. But if he made Mom happy, I’d make an effort to tolerate him.
“Are you sure you can’t stay the night?” Mom asked. “You can stay in the guest room.”
I shook my head, smiling. “Sorry, but duty calls.”
We said our goodbyes. A hug and kiss for Mom, and a handshake for Jim. As I walked out of the house, I felt lighter despite all the food in my stomach. Seeing Mom always made me feel like a kid again. A big, woman-chasing, booze-pounding kid.
19
That night I awoke to the sound of someone pounding on the door. Darkness loomed through my bedroom window. I glanced at the digital alarm clock on the nightstand: 5:45. A feeling of dread crept over me. When people come a-knocking in the wee hours of the morning, they usually brought bad news.
“Hang on a second!” I rolled out of bed, my body stiff and aching, and donned a wifebeater. The scuffle with Hermes had left me with multiple bruises. The worst one was on my lower back. I’d used an icepack to reduce the swelling, then slathered it with ointment. But that did little to ease the pain. When I moved too quickly, or tried to bend over, I felt a twinge of agony. Hermes, that bastard. One day I was going to get him back for this.
I lurched to the door and looked through the peephole. Herc stood in the hallway, fidgeting nervously. He wore a white T-shirt and the same baseball cap he had worn to the Night Owl. The sunglasses were missing. He must have gotten a refund for them.
I opened the door. Herc moved past me without saying a word.
“Come on in,” I said, shutting the door.
Herc walked to the window and looked out, his hands at his sides. “Sorry about stopping by so early. I wanted to catch you before you went to work. Got some bad news.”
“How bad?” I asked.
“Real bad. Dad called. Hephaestus was murdered.”
I didn’t want to reply. But I knew he’d find out the truth eventually. Best to go ahead and get it over with. “Yeah, I know.”
Herc spun toward me, his brow furrowed. “You knew? How?”
I eased onto my recliner. The leather squeaked beneath my body. “Hermes approached me at the Night Owl. He asked me to take a look at the crime scene.”
Herc held up his hand. “Hold up. Let me get this straight. You knew Hephaestus was dead all this time, and you didn’t bother to tell me? Your best friend?”
I shrugged.
Herc made a choking sound. “You’re an asshole, Plato Jones!”
“You were already worried about the killer coming after Hebe,” I said. “I didn’t want to make things worse.”
“Oh, so I should be thanking you?”
“I was only looking out for you.”
“Oh yeah? Well next time don’t bother.” Herc sat down on the couch, looked at me, and shook his head. “I can’t believe you.”
We sat in silence for a time, not looking at each other. Then I said, “Want a beer?”
“Sure.”
I eased out of the chair and went to the kitchen. I grabbed two beers from the fridge and tossed one to Herc. I didn’t normally drink this early in the morning. But I figured a little alcohol would help alleviate the tension between us, as well as dull the pain of my bruises.
“Thanks.” Herc pried off the cap.
“Don’t mention it.” I sat back down.
“Sorry about calling you an asshole.”
I waved my hand dismissively. “I deserved it.”
“Yeah, you kinda did.”
Herc chuckled and took a swig of beer. “You said you investigated the crime scene. Does that mean you’re taking the case?”
I shook my head. “What I did for Hermes the other night was just a favor.”
“But you’re still considering it, right?”
“Maybe.” I drank some beer. It hurt to swallow.
Herc put his drink on the coffee table and stood up. He reached into his pocket and took out a wad of money, which he tossed onto the table.
“What’s this?” I asked.
“This is the reason I came by. I want you to take me on as a client.”
“Herc . . . I can’t take your money.”
“You can and you will.”
I leaned back in my chair and stared at the ceiling, stalling.
“The killer’s going after the First Family,” Herc said. “That means Hebe is on his list.”
“We don’t know that for sure.”
“I’m not taking any chances.”
I could hear the fear in his voice, see it in his eyes. Guilt rose from the pit of my stomach. “If you want me to help keep an eye on Hebe—”
“That’s not good enough,” Herc said, cutting me off. “Take the case.”
“Tell you what.” I rose from my chair. “I’ll look into it. But I refuse to work with the Gods.”
Herc beamed. He stood up and stepped toward me, his arms outstretched.
I held up my hand. “No hugs. I’m still recovering from the last one you gave me.”
“Oh, right. Sorry about that.”
I put down my beer, picked up the wad of bills, and offered it back to him. “Here.”
Herc didn’t move.
“What’s the matter with you?” I said. “Take the money.”
“No.”
“Quit being stubborn and take it.”
“It’s yours,” Herc said. “Think of it as an incentive.”
“I’m not going to think of it as anything. Now take it.”
Herc crossed his arms.
What followed was a standoff of sorts. Herc stared me down. I stared him down. He was grinning. I wasn’t. Neither of us moved. The first rays of daylight shone through the window, burning away the shadows, and filling the apartment with golden light. A beeping sound issued from my bedroom. My alarm clock.
“I don’t have time for this.” I tossed the money back on the table. “I have to get ready for work.”
20
Collin Stone strode into my office at three in the afternoon, wearing a red polo, jeans, and designer sunglasses. He looked bigger up close—about six-four. The twisted scar on his face suggested his wound hadn’t healed correctly. Judging by the thick calluses on his knuckles, he’d been in more than a few scuffles over the years.
“You Plato Jones?” he asked, his voice deep and coarse.
“Last I checked.”
“We need to talk.”
I pretended not to know him. “And you are?”
“Collin Stone.” He said it like I was supposed to be impressed.
“Nice to meet you, Mr. Stone.” I gestured at the chair in front of my desk.
Collin sat down and took off his sunglasses. The shiner on his eye was healing nicely.
“How can I help you?” I asked.
Collin leaned back and steepled his fingers. He was trying to look powerful and important. He might have succeeded if not for the black eye.
“I understand you were recently hired to follow me,” he said.
I smiled politely. “I typically don’t comment on what my assignments may or may not be. Confidentiality and all. You understand.” I indicated the candy dish. “Candy?”
Collin sneered. “Mr. Jones, my beautiful wife, Bellanca, thinks I’ve been cheating on her. She claims to have seen a video of me and another woman. A video you provided. I asked to see this supposed video, but she refused to show it to me.”
“Sounds like you’ve got yourself a bit of a problem.”
“Don’t patronize me, Mr. Jones.”
“Didn’t realize I was.” I definitely was.
Collin glared at me. “Because of this alleged proof, Bellanca’s threatening divorce.”
“If she cheated on you, wouldn’t you do the same?”
“Maybe I would,” Collin admitted. “But that’s not the point.”
This guy hadn’t been in my office five minutes, and he was already getting on my nerves. “Exactly why are you here, Mr. Stone?”
“I need your help.”
I raised an eyebrow. “My help?”
He nodded. “The footage you collected on me and my . . . friend. I want you tell Bellanca it was doctored.”
“Are you serious?”
“Totally.”
“I’m afraid I can’t do that, Mr. Stone.”
Collin’s mouth became a hard line. “And why not?”
“Because it’s my job to uncover the truth.” I leaned back in my chair. “Not to manufacture lies.”
“I’m not asking you to manufacture a lie.” Collin inclined forward in his seat. “I’m asking you to save my marriage.”
“What makes you think that Bellanc—Mrs. Stone—would even believe me?”
Collin grinned. “Mr. Jones, I love my wife. She’s a wonderful woman. But she’s not the sharpest crayon in the box, if you know what I mean.”
Hearing Collin insult Bellanca made me want to blacken his other eye. But I stayed professional. Point for me.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Stone, but I can’t help you. What you’re asking goes against everything I stand for.”
Collin pursed his lips. “You’re an honest man. I respect that.” He reached in his coat pocket and pulled out his checkbook. “But as my father used to say, ‘Everyone has a price.’ What’s yours?”
That was all I could take. From the time Collin stepped into my office, he’d done nothing but eat away at my patience. He wanted me to sympathize with him. Wanted me to believe that he was a victim of circumstance. And now he thought he could drop a few thousand credits and all his problems would magically go away. That might have worked for him in the past, but not today. His dirt had finally caught up with him.
“I think you should leave.”
Collin slipped his checkbook back into his pocket and stood up. He planted his hands on my desk and leaned forward. His wedding band gleamed on his ring finger. Gold with black diamonds. I wondered if he wore it while having sex with Enyo.
“I don’t like it when people say no to me, Mr. Jones,” he said, his tone low and threatening. “They end up not liking it either.”
I sat up and looked him right in the eye. “Listen, pal. I’ve been threatened by the Gods of Olympus more times than I can count. If you want to intimidate me, you’re going to have to try a lot harder.”
“Who do you think you’re talking to?” Collin hissed through clenched teeth. “You’re a small-time PI. A nobody. I’m a powerful man with powerful connections. Fuck with me and I’ll bury you.”
“Whatever you say.”
Collin’s face flushed an angry shade of red. He came around my desk, probably with the intention of roughing me up. I casually opened the desk drawer that contained my Desert Eagle. Collin’s eyes latched onto the gun, and he paused. I slowly shook my head.
He cursed under his breath, whirled around, and stormed out of my office, slamming the door behind him.
“Have a nice day,” I said.
21
I got home just as the street lights came on, and went straight for the fridge. I took out a box of leftover Chinese food—pepper steak and fried rice—emptied it onto a plate, and popped it in the microwave. Two minutes later, the timer went off, and I took my dinner to
the kitchen table. No sooner had I sat down than my cell phone rang. I glanced at the caller ID. Alexis. Wonderful.
“Hello?”
“Hi, Plato. How are you?” Alexis’s tone was uncharacteristically perky, which made me suspicious. She used this tone only when she wanted something from me, or when she had unpleasant news to deliver. I wasn’t up for either.
“I’m good. Couldn’t be better. What’s up?”
“Nothing. I just called to check on you. I was worried.”
She called to check on me? No. I didn’t believe it. Alexis never called just to check on me. She definitely had something up her sleeve. “Oh, really?”
“Yes,” Alexis said. “I wanted to see where your head is, regarding the whole engagement thing.”
I sighed, almost inaudibly. This again. I should’ve known. “I’m happy for you and Corbin. I thought I expressed that last time we talked.”
“His name is Calais. And I didn’t believe you. I still don’t believe you.” There was an undercurrent of annoyance in Alexis’s voice. She tried to hide it, but I was on to her.
She hadn’t called for my benefit. She’d called to flaunt her engagement in my face some more. She wanted me to get angry. Wanted me to tell her not to get married, to leave her fiancé and come back to me. She wanted to hear me beg. Wanted to know that I was hurting. I wasn’t going to give her the satisfaction.
“Sorry to hear that.” I took a bite of food. It was scorching hot. Fanning my mouth with my hand, I reached for my drink only to realize that I didn’t have one. I got up to get a bottle of water from the fridge.
“Why won’t you be honest with me?” she asked.
“I am.” I opened the bottle of water and took a sip.
“You know what I mean. If you have a problem with me and Calais getting married, then you should just say so.”
“And what would that accomplish?” I asked, sitting back down.
There was a pause on the other end.
“I don’t know,” Alexis said after a time. “But I’m sure having those feelings out in the open would make everyone feel a lot better about the situation.”
“In addition to massaging your ego,” I mumbled.
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