Murder on Olympus

by Robert B Warren

  “What was that?”

  “Nothing. Look Alexis, I’m right in the middle of dinner. Can we talk about this later?”

  “I guess,” Alexis said. Then she gasped, and her tone suddenly turned excited. “Oh yeah. There was something else I wanted to tell you. I was at the grocery store earlier today, and guess who I ran into. Hermes! You know, the God.”

  I frowned, my fork poised over a chunk of green bell pepper. “I’m familiar with him.”

  “He told me I was beautiful. So beautiful that he just had to stop and introduce himself.”

  “Was he looking at you or into a mirror?”

  “Oh, shut up.” Alexis laughed. “Anyway, he seemed really nice. And he said he knew you, which was strange because I didn’t even bring up your name. Isn’t that exciting?”

  My insides turned to ice. “Very. Listen, Alexis. I have to go now.”

  “Oh. Well, all right. Talk to you later, I guess.”

  “Bye.” I ended the call, took Hermes’s business card out of my wallet, and punched in the number. His phone rang five times before going to voice mail. After the tone, I said, “You stay away from Alexis, understand? Leave her out of this. You hear me? Leave her out of this.”

  I hung up.

  22

  I was getting ready for work the next morning when someone knocked at the door. I was in such a hurry to get dressed that I opened the door without first looking through the peephole. Big mistake. Hermes stood across from me. At once, my annoyance level went from zero to seven digits.

  Today, he wore a light-gray suit with a powder-blue shirt underneath. I couldn’t help wondering how many suits the guy owned. I had never seen him wear the same thing twice.

  “Good morning, Mr. Jones.” Hermes’s smile was anything but genuine. “I hope you slept well.”

  I smiled back at him, equally disingenuous. “I’ll bet.”

  We stood there for half a minute, silently smiling at each other, until my cheeks hurt.

  Hermes arched his eyebrows. “Aren’t you going to invite me in?”

  My first instinct was to say no. Hell no. I didn’t trust Hermes. Letting him into my home seemed like the antithesis of a good idea. But I didn’t have much choice. If I refused, he’d just force his way inside. And my gun was in the bedroom, on the nightstand. I groaned inwardly. Why me?

  “Well?” Hermes said.

  Reluctantly, I stepped aside.

  Hermes nodded appreciatively. He stepped inside and immediately started looking around the apartment, his hands behind his back. Sporadically, he chuckled and shook his head.

  “What’s so funny?” I asked, closing the door.

  “Nothing, Mr. Jones, nothing at all,” Hermes answered, grinning.

  He took a picture down from the mantel. A photo of my parents, Socrates, and me. We stood on the front lawn of our house. It was summertime. I was five and wearing a sailor suit, the kind with shorts and suspenders. My mom said I looked precious in it. I remember feeling stupid.

  “You have a lovely family,” Hermes said.

  I was so uncomfortable having him in my place, I barely noticed the compliment. Herc was the closest thing to a God that had been inside the apartment. I’d wanted to keep it that way.

  “Did you get my message?” I asked.

  Hermes returned the picture to the mantle. “I did.”

  “I know what you’re trying to do.”

  Hermes lifted his brows. “Indeed?”

  “She has nothing to do with this. Leave her alone.”

  “I will, provided you do as we ask.”

  “Here we go with this again.”

  Hermes removed a handkerchief from his pocket and dusted off the couch. He sat down and crossed his legs. “Zeus would like to have a word with you. He has a proposition that might interest you.”

  I crossed my arms and leaned against the door. “Let me guess. I investigate the murder, and you promise not to hurt Alexis.”

  Hermes shrugged.

  I wanted to smash his face. But I had seen what he was capable of, and I wasn’t interested in taking a second look. “I should’ve known you guys would pull something like this.”

  “You left us no choice. This matter must be resolved as quickly as possible. The stability of Olympus depends on it. So what’s it going to be, Mr. Jones?”

  What else could I do? Alexis and I weren’t on the best terms, but I couldn’t let her come to harm because of my feud with the Gods. Playing hero sucks.

  “Let me call my secretary and tell her I won’t be in today,” I said.

  “I knew you’d see things our way. Your ex-wife is quite lovely after all—and fragile, very fragile. But I suppose the same can be said about all humans.” Hermes smiled, flashing a perfect set of teeth. “Now make yourself presentable. Zeus is waiting.”

  23

  I arrived at Zeus’s around 10:00 a.m.

  The King of the Gods spent most of his time in his private estate, high atop Mount Olympus. Perched on the edge of a cliff, the main building was accessible only by helicopter. With its clean white exterior and futuristic design, it looked like an alien spaceship on stilts. Rich people had strange tastes.

  Hermes and I entered the mansion through a pair of sliding glass doors. The interior was simple but modern, with a lot of solid colors, stainless steel, and rounded corners. Curved walls enclosed the room. The place was impressive to be sure, but it lacked warmth. Literally and figuratively—the air conditioner was cranked up so high I could see my breath.

  In all, the estate felt more like an office building than a home.

  Hermes showed me to Zeus’s office and told me he’d wait outside. Glass made up the entire room. I wished I’d brought along a large rock.

  Dressed like a spokesmodel for a Big & Tall suit shop, Zeus sat behind a glass desk at the head of the room. Light winked off the gold and platinum threads woven into the fabric of his charcoal suit. The light-blue tie matched his eyes. Neatly trimmed dark-brown hair and beard emphasized his chiseled features.

  Even sitting down, he radiated power. His presence filled the room like an invisible current, washing over me and making the hair on the nape of my neck stand on end. I wasn’t sure if he was doing it on purpose or not. Either way, one thing was clear: you don’t screw with the King.

  Hera, Zeus’s wife and Queen of the Gods, stood to the right of her husband. Her tight white dress showed off some fairly nice curves. Diamond jewelry glittered on her wrists, neck, and fingers, and her black hair was pulled into a severe bun. You could slice your finger caressing her razor-sharp features. I wanted to check Zeus’s hands for scars.

  “Greetings, Mr. Jones,” Zeus said, his voice deep and commanding. “It’s nice to see you again. Please, have a seat.”

  I sat on the couch and nodded at Hera. “Ma’am.”

  She sneered at me. Charming.

  “Would you care for something to drink?” Zeus offered.

  I shook my head. “No thanks.”

  He nodded and laced his fingers. “Hermes tells me you were out with my son the other night. How is Hercules? He and I rarely speak nowadays.”

  “Herc’s fine.”

  Zeus smiled proudly. Hera rolled her eyes.

  “With all due respect, Mr. President, can we just get down to business?”

  Zeus stood and looked through the glass wall behind his desk, beyond which lay a spectacular view of New Olympia. Then he began to pace back and forth. Hera continued to watch me. Her gold eyes were daggers.

  “Where are my manners?” Zeus said. “I haven’t even thanked you for coming on such short notice.”

  “Well you didn’t leave me much choice, did you?” I said. My voice showed every bit of the agitation I felt.

  “You forget yourself, mortal,” Hera snapped. “You ar
e in the presence of Gods. One more outburst, and I’ll have the flesh stripped from your bones.”

  “Calm down, my love,” Zeus said. “Mr. Jones can’t help us if he’s dead, now can he?”

  Hera crossed her arms and tilted her chin. Her diamonds flashed in the sunlight. “I suppose not.”

  I waited until the tension in the room had eased. “There was no need to bring Alexis into this.”

  “Desperate times call for desperate measures, I’m afraid,” Zeus said. “You were my best agent. Quick on your feet, able to find solutions in the most unlikely places. Your talents were invaluable to our organization. We need them again.”

  “I appreciate the compliments, Mr. President. I really do. But I’m just a modest PI. I don’t have the resources to conduct an investigation of this magnitude.”

  Zeus summoned me forward. He took a check out of his suit pocket and slid it across his desk. I picked it up. It was double his original offer. My jaw nearly dropped when I saw all the zeros.

  “Will this be sufficient?” he asked.

  “I believe so.” I tried to sound nonchalant. I folded the check in half and slipped it into my back pocket.

  “In that case, let us move on. The enemy you face has the power to kill Gods. Being mortal places you at a disadvantage. But I have something that might help.” He pressed a button on his intercom.

  A woman’s voice issued from the speaker. “Sir?”

  “I need you in my office.”

  “On my way.”

  Seconds later, the door opened, and in came Chrysus, Zeus’s personal assistant and director of the Treasury. She was also a certifiable bombshell, in a gray skirt suit that showed off a good amount of thigh and breast. Her thick blond hair was pinned back, revealing perfectly applied makeup. The glasses were a nice touch. I’ve always been a fan of the naughty librarian look.

  She bowed her head to Zeus. “What can I do for you, sir?”

  “Chrysus.” Zeus gestured toward me. “You’re familiar with Mr. Jones?”

  Chrysus regarded me with a polite smile. “Of course. How are you, Mr. Jones?”

  I gave her a thumbs-up. “Super.”

  “Mr. Jones has agreed to help us,” Zeus said. “Go to the Treasury and retrieve Athena’s Aegis.”

  “Yes, sir.” Chrysus bowed her head once more and left.

  As she walked away, I glanced at her backside from the corner of my eye. If Zeus or Hera noticed, they didn’t say anything about it.

  Once the office doors had closed, I asked the obvious question. “What’s Athena’s Aegis?”

  The King of the Gods sat back down. “One of the secret treasures of Olympus. Only a select few know of its existence. Whoever wears the Aegis is rendered invulnerable. I’m lending it to you.”

  I pursed my lips. Invulnerability? Now we’re talking! “Thank you.”

  Hera laid a hand on Zeus’s shoulder. Her fingernails were painted blood-red. As she spoke to him, her gaze remained fixed on me. “Are you sure that’s wise, my love? Handing over such a powerful treasure to a human? You know how untrustworthy they can be. You’ve seen their reality shows. Backstabbing left and right.”

  I smiled innocently.

  Zeus patted Hera on the hand, and returned his attention to me. “I’ll have the Aegis delivered to you once Chrysus retrieves it from the vault and handles the necessary paperwork. You should have it by the middle of next week.”

  Hera drew her hand back and scowled at me. “You had better be careful with the Aegis.”

  I held up three fingers. Scout’s honor.

  “Well if there’s nothing else, I suggest you get started.” Zeus began sorting through a stack of papers on his desk.

  That was my cue to leave. I rejoined Hermes at the front door, and he escorted me back to the helipad.

  The S-O-B had a satisfied grin on his face. “How did the meeting go?”

  “As well as can be expected.”

  “I take it you’re going to help us then.”

  “Yep.”

  “You know Zeus expects quick results?”

  “Yep.”

  “Where will you start your investigation?”

  “I haven’t a clue.”

  24

  “So the Gods threatened Alexis to get you on the case.” Herc shook his head. “That’s pretty despicable, even for them.”

  We were sitting at a table at the Night Owl. It was twenty after four in the afternoon, so the place was essentially a ghost town. Just us, Harold the bartender, and Abas. For the past hour, Abas had been cleaning the men’s bathroom. I was drinking gin and tonic. Herc had a rum and Coke.

  “The Gods never cease to amaze me. Just when I think they can’t get any lower, they pull a stunt like this. At least the money’s good. Which reminds me.” I took the wad of money Herc had offered me the other day and tossed it on the table.

  “What are you doing?” Herc asked.

  “I’m giving your money back.”

  “It’s not mine anymore.”

  “Sure it is.” I slid the cash toward him. “Go ahead. Take it.”

  Herc stared at the cash. His was mouth tight, his eyes unblinking. He reached for it, but stopped himself at the last second. I cocked my eyebrow in surprise.

  “No,” Herc said, shaking his head defiantly. “I’m your client. This is your fee. That’s the way this is gonna work.”

  “You’re not my client, Herc. Zeus is the one who hired me. He’s the one footing the bill. Now go ahead and take it.” I pushed the money even closer to him. “Buy Hebe a new ring or bracelet or something.”

  Emotions clashed across Herc’s face: guilt, excitement, anxiety, more guilt.

  “You really don’t want it?” he asked.

  “Read my lips. I do not want your money.”

  “Are you absolutely positive? Beyond a shadow of a doubt?”

  “Will you just take the damn money, Herc? Please! Do us both a favor and just take it. Go on. It’s okay. If you don’t, I’ll have no choice but to donate it to the Young Republicans Society.”

  Herc hesitated a moment. Then a grin stretched across his face. He grabbed the cash and stuffed it into his pocket. I could’ve sworn I saw money signs flash in his eyes.

  “You’re alright, Jonesy.”

  “You sure about that? I can find at least a dozen people who might disagree.”

  Herc chuckled. “So what’s your first move?”

  I sipped my drink. “I figure I’ll start with the most obvious suspect.”

  “Who’s that?”

  “Think about it.” I tapped the side of my head with my index finger. “Of all the people Hephaestus knew, who was he closest to?”

  Herc looked at me but did not answer. I could tell from the vacant look in his eyes that the gears weren’t turning.

  “Someone he swore to love and cherish forever,” I said.

  Herc shrugged.

  I sighed. “His wife.”

  Herc’s face lit up. “Oh, yeah.” His gaze narrowed. “You think she’s the killer?”

  “Probably. I don’t know. It’s too early to say.”

  “But you intend to find out.”

  “Bingo.”

  “Well, good luck with that.”

  Good luck was right. Aphrodite was the Goddess of Love, Beauty, and Sexuality. Passion incarnate. An infamous party girl who incited lust in those around her and fed off it like a parasite. I had never met her in person, but I’d heard plenty of rumors. Some good. Some bad. All dirty.

  One rumor in particular concerned me more than the others. Supposedly, any mortal who had sex with her would instantly lose his mind and become one of her thralls.

  A few years back, a man claiming to be Aphrodite’s boyfriend cut off his own hand and tried to mail it to her. An act
of love, he called it. On his way to the post office, the moron passed out from blood loss, and ended up wrapping his car around a telephone pole. He was rushed to the hospital, where surgeons reattached his hand. From there, it was straight to the loony bin.

  The incident had caused a media shitstorm. As it turned out, the moron was actually a famous lawyer. What would make a smart, well-to-do man lop off his own hand? Aphrodite and her reps weren’t telling, so the public cooked up their own explanation.

  Apparently, Aphrodite’s sex is too good for the average mortal to handle. It causes a sensory overload that reduces our brains to Silly Putty. Whether the theory was true or not, I had no idea. And frankly, I didn’t care. Aphrodite was a Goddess of Olympus. That was reason enough to be careful around her.

  “The OBI’s going to interrogate her within the next couple days,” I said. “I’ll wait until they’re done. Then I’ll set up a meeting with her.”

  Herc gave a sly grin. “And pump her . . . for information?”

  “Good one.” I tipped my glass toward him.

  “I have my moments.”

  I took another swig of my drink. “For now, there’s another lead I’d like to follow. I found a receipt in Hephaestus’s workshop, from an industrial warehouse. He’d been working on some kind of project prior to his death. I want know what that project was.”

  “You think it has something to do with the murders?” Herc asked.

  “I’m not sure. But it’s all I’ve got at the moment.”

  25

  Marvin’s Scrap Heap was on the side of the highway between New Olympia and Boreasville, the only noticeable structure for miles. The building was massive. The white exterior and sheet-metal roof glowed in the sunlight. Four tractor-trailers occupied the parking lot. There were no other vehicles around.

  I entered through the main entrance.

  The cramped reception area smelled vaguely of rubber tires. Various award plaques hung on the walls, and in the corner, four plastic chairs were gathered in front of an old big-screen TV. The screen was coated in dust. Some joker had drawn a smiley face in it.