Murder on Olympus

by Robert B Warren

  “Plato Jones,” I said.

  Dionysus and I shook hands. He had a firm handshake. Any firmer and he might have broken my hand.

  “Nice to meet you, Mr. Jones,” Dionysus said.

  “Same here.”

  “What would you like to speak with me about?”

  “Something important. Can we step outside for a minute?”

  “I don’t see why not.”

  The three of us went outside to my car. There was no one else around, so we could talk freely without being overheard. I leaned against the driver-side door. Aphrodite stood beside me, glaring at Dionysus.

  “Thanks for cooperating,” I said.

  “You’re welcome, Mr. Jones, but what is this all about?” Dionysus asked.

  “I’m a private investigator. Zeus hired me to investigate a recent string of murders in New Olympia.”

  “They must not be very high-profile if Zeus is hiring mortals to look into them.”

  “Plato was once a member of the OBI,” Aphrodite informed him. “He was the best. That’s why the president wanted him on the case.”

  “If you say so.” Dionysus didn’t sound impressed. “Who were the victims?”

  “Eileithyia, Hephaestus, and Enyo,” I said.

  Dionysus cocked his eyebrows. “The Gods?”

  “Yes.”

  He laughed. “You’re joking.”

  “Afraid not.”

  He continued to laugh, so hard that he doubled over and clutched his side. He glanced at Aphrodite. “Is he serious?” he asked, through spurts of laughter.

  Her head sank and she said nothing.

  Dionysus’s laughter faded. “You are serious.”

  “Unfortunately,” I said.

  The sparkle in his eyes dimmed for an instant. He took a sip of wine. Red liquid swirled upward in the chalice to replace what he’d just taken.

  “I’m sorry to have to break this to you,” I said.

  “It’s okay,” he said casually.

  The reaction caught me by surprise. I mean, I wasn’t expecting him to cry his eyes out or anything. But I did anticipate some show of regret. Instead, I got nothing.

  “You’re not upset?” I asked outright.

  Dionysus shrugged. I didn’t know what to make of the gesture.

  I glanced at Aphrodite, hoping she could she could shed some light on Dionysus’s lack of reaction. She was too busy making bedroom eyes at him to notice me. Apparently, she had forgiven him for the two bimbos near the staircase.

  I turned my attention back to Dionysus. “I’m trying to find the person responsible for the murders, but I’m short on information. I’d like to ask you a few questions if you don’t mind.”

  Dionysus swallowed another mouthful of wine. “Ask away.”

  “Thanks. First question. Is it true you’ve been at this party for the last month?”

  “Yes.”

  “Have you left at all?”

  “No.” He grinned. “It’s a killer party.”

  “Is there someone who can verify that?”

  Dionysus tilted his head toward the mansion. “Ask anyone, they’ll tell you. Especially any of the women.”

  “Okay, next question,” I said. “Do you know anyone who’d want to hurt Eileithyia and the others?”

  “The Gods have many enemies.”

  “What about Prometheus? Is he your enemy?”

  Dionysus chuckled. “He’s a lot of things, that one. But he’s no killer.”

  “Last question. Is there anything that can kill a God? Anything at all?”

  Dionysus shook his head, his lips pursed. “No, nothing.”

  “You sure?”

  “Yes,” he said. There was an undercurrent of annoyance in his voice. I kept forgetting how sensitive the Gods were about repeating themselves.

  “Alright,” I said.

  “Is that all?”

  “For now.”

  Dionysus nodded. He glanced at the sky. It was a starry night. A haze of pale light encircled the moon.

  “Nice night,” he commented.

  “It is,” Aphrodite agreed.

  Dionysus shifted his gaze to her, grinning deviously. “You remember what we used to do on nights like these?”

  “How could I forget?” Aphrodite replied, matching his expression.

  “It’s been a long time, hasn’t it?”

  “Too long.” She moved closer to him until they stood only inches apart. “We should find a quiet spot and get reacquainted.”

  “Here is fine.”

  Aphrodite turned to me. “Plato, would you care to join us?”

  I smiled graciously. “I think I’ll pass.”

  “That’s too bad. Do you want to watch instead?”

  I took a few steps back, my hands raised. “No, I’m going back inside to talk to Prometheus.”

  Aphrodite nodded, looking marginally disappointed. “I’ll look after Dionysus while you’re gone.”

  “I’m sure you will.”

  Dionysus chuckled.

  “Have fun, you two.” I turned and started back to the mansion.

  I kept my eyes straight ahead, ignoring the compulsion to look back. Though Aphrodite and I weren’t romantically involved, I still hated the idea of her having sex with other guys. I couldn’t—or wouldn’t—have sex with her. But I didn’t want other people to have sex with her either.

  What bothered me even more was the thought of leaving her alone with a suspect. Everyone had their own methods of coping with tragedy, but Dionysus’s lack of compassion bugged me. It bugged me a lot.

  All the same, I couldn’t stop Aphrodite from doing what she wanted to do. And I knew better than to try.

  I was almost to the front door when screams of passion rose up behind me. I almost wished they’d been screams of terror. Then I could have run to Aphrodite’s rescue with guns blazing.

  I would have gotten my ass handed to me, but at least I would’ve looked heroic doing it.

  64

  I scanned the crowd for Prometheus. Given that he was fifteen feet tall, spotting him should have been easy. But the big guy was MIA.

  Instead of blindly searching the mansion for him, I decided to ask around. I looked for the most normal-looking person in the room, which—with all the freaks and sadists running around—was easier said than done. The closest thing I found was a pale-skinned woman near the buffet area.

  The tight blue dress she wore emphasized some fairly impressive curves. Honey-colored hair cascaded to the middle of her back, and her large eyes shone a bright shade of green. She held a Styrofoam cup in her hand.

  I approached her. “Excuse me.”

  When our eyes met, she gasped and dropped her drink. Dark-red liquid splashed onto my shoes. I told myself it was punch.

  “Sorry,” I said. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

  The woman didn’t respond. She just stared at me. Her eyes were larger up close, and there was something extremely creepy about them. They reminded me of the eyes on a porcelain doll. Glassy and lifeless.

  “Have you seen Prometheus?” I asked.

  The woman slowly backed away from me. She turned and ran, disappearing into the crowd.

  Okay, that was weird.

  I grabbed a napkin off the buffet table and wiped the red stuff off my shoes. Then I searched the crowd for the second-most normal-looking person at the party. A satyr with long white hair and a beard leaned against the staircase railing. His white dress shirt was unbuttoned all the way, and the sleeves were rolled up to his elbows. A black necktie was wrapped around his head like a bandanna.

  “Excuse me,” I said.

  The satyr glowered at me. His pupils were dilated, and his hands trembled. I glanced at his arms. I could have played connec
t the dots with all the track marks.

  “Wh-what? What? What do ya want?” the satyr stammered, scratching the side of his neck.

  “Have you seen Prometheus?”

  “Who?”

  “Prometheus,” I said. “You know. Big guy, covered in tats, guts hanging out. The one who owns this house.”

  “Oh! That Prometheus. Yeah, I’ve seen him.”

  “Where is he?”

  “On the third floor. Second door on the right.”

  “Thanks.”

  The satyr grinned, revealing a set of crooked and yellow teeth. “No problem.”

  I stepped past him and went upstairs, to the third floor. A dark corridor stretched before me. A crimson runner covered the hardwood floor, thick and plush. Generic paintings of mountains and seascapes hung on the walls, illuminated by bronze sconces. I stopped at the second door on the right and knocked. The noise resounded throughout the hallway. No one answered. I knocked again.

  “Prometheus?”

  Still nothing.

  I tried the knob, and it turned easily in my hand. Unlocked. I eased the door open. It clicked shut behind me.

  Inside were a bed, a dresser, and a nightstand—all super-size like their owner. A leather sex swing hung over the bed. Prometheus wasn’t here, which meant one of two things: either the satyr had made a mistake, or he was a lying sack of crap. I suspected option number two.

  I was about to leave when I heard a rustling sound. I froze, my hand poised near the doorknob. I turned around, slowly. A low hiss filled the room as a gorgon with green and silver scales emerged from the other side of the bed.

  I shut my eyes before she could fix her gaze on me. I wasn’t sure if the Aegis would protect me from getting stoned, and didn’t intend to find out. I turned the doorknob and yanked. It wouldn’t budge. Someone had locked me in.

  The gorgon shrieked. The noise rang in my ears, masking the sound of her approach. Clawed hands caught my arm and waist in a crushing grip. I shouted for help as she lifted me into the air and tossed me across the room. I crashed on the bed and rolled over the edge onto the floor.

  Heart thumping, I scrambled to my feet and drew my gun. I could hear the gorgon slithering around. But she moved so fast, I couldn’t pinpoint her location in the room with my eyes still squeezed shut. I fired three blind shots. I must have missed because she didn’t grunt or cry out in pain.

  There was another shriek. Something, probably the gorgon’s tail, wrapped around my ankles and swept me off my feet. When I tried to rise, the creature scrambled on top of me. She pinned my wrists to the floor with clawed hands. I struggled but couldn’t break her hold.

  The gorgon hissed. Her breath stank like rotten meat, scalding against my face.

  “Get off me!” I yelled.

  I heard the door boom open, and the gorgon abruptly released me. Next came the sounds of a struggle, followed by a loud crash. Then everything went silent.

  “You okay, man?” a voice asked.

  I dared to open my eyes, and sat upright.

  Prometheus stood near the dresser. The gorgon was on the opposite side of the room. She had been knocked halfway through the wall. Her now-still tail drooped, while the other half of her body hung through the wall into the hallway.

  “I’m fine, thanks.” I got up and put my gun away.

  “Plato, was it?”

  “Yeah.”

  “What are you doing up here? The party’s downstairs.”

  “I was looking for you, actually. We need to talk.”

  65

  Prometheus led me to a smoking lounge farther down the hall. The room was dim and circular. Thick red curtains covered the walls, and a giant hookah sat in the middle of the floor, surrounded by pillows as wide as car hoods. Tobacco smoke scented the air. The wacky variety.

  “Thanks again for helping me out,” I said, climbing onto one of the pillows.

  “No problem.” Prometheus gathered his intestines, stuffed them into the gash in his stomach, and dropped down across from me. The floor shuddered beneath him.

  “I’m lucky you came along when you did.”

  “Luck had nothing to with it, my friend.” Prometheus pointed at the ceiling. “It was the stars.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “The stars. They’re the architects of fate. They dictate our every action. It is because of their power that we even exist.”

  “So the stars led you to that room?”

  “Of course.”

  I nodded slowly. Okay. Moving on . . .

  “I’m a private investigator.” I showed him my ID. “Zeus hired me to look into a series of crimes that recently occurred in New Olympia. If you don’t mind, I’d like to ask you some questions.”

  “Go ahead.”

  “Are you acquainted with the Goddess Enyo?”

  “I am.”

  “How well do you know her?”

  “Very well.” Prometheus had one of those if-you-know-what-I-mean grins on his face.

  “You were romantically involved?”

  “Yes.”

  “Exclusive?” I asked.

  “No, but she wanted to be.”

  “Did you feel the same way?”

  “In a way,” Prometheus began, “but we’re too different to ever work. It’d be like two galaxies trying to occupy the same space. The universe would never allow such a union.”

  “You told her no, then?”

  “Yes.”

  “I can’t imagine Enyo took the rejection very well,” I said.

  “She threw me out a window.”

  “Harsh. And then?”

  “She went home.”

  “Did you hear from her again?”

  Prometheus nodded. “She called a few days later, begging me to be with her. She’d even gone so far as to break up with her other lovers.”

  So that’s why she broke up with Collin. “What did you tell her?”

  “To forget about me. To move on.”

  “Did she take your advice?”

  “I don’t know. She hung up on me. That was the last time she and I spoke.” Prometheus paused and squinted at me. “Is she in some kind of trouble?”

  “You could say that,” was all I was willing to tell him for now. I’d never been a fan of putting all my cards on the table at once. To me, conducting an interrogation was a lot like painting. It required patience and finesse. One brushstroke at a time, until the picture began to take form.

  Prometheus gave a half-smile. “She’s dead, isn’t she?”

  My eyebrows shot upward. So much for strategy! But does this mean he’s the killer? “Yes, she is.”

  Prometheus nodded, his expression calm.

  “You don’t seem very upset,” I said.

  “I’m not.”

  “That’s a little insensitive, don’t you think?”

  “To the unenlightened mind, perhaps.” Prometheus rested his hands behind his head. “I believe everything happens for a reason.”

  “Let me guess. Her death was written in the stars.”

  He pointed at me. “Exactly!”

  “Did the stars also tell you to kill her?”

  “Oh no.”

  “If they had, would you have done it?”

  “Well, yeah.”

  “How?”

  Prometheus shrugged. “I guess I’d used the Claw of Erebus. That is, if I could get my hands on it.”

  Hearing the name Erebus took me back to freshman history in high school. Supposedly, Erebus was an ancient deity, the primordial darkness from which all life was created. For as long as anyone could remember, scholars and scientists had been debating its existence. The Gods were squarely on the “no comment” side of the argument. I was on the fence about the issue.

  “W
hat’s the Claw of Erebus?” I asked.

  “A weapon fashioned from the darkness of creation.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “That’s not surprising. The Olympians keep its existence a secret. But don’t worry, I’ll set you straight.”

  “I appreciate that.”

  “So here’s the deal,” Prometheus said. “Think of Erebus as a big hunk of modeling clay. This clay was used to shape the world and everything in it: oceans, mountains, birds, mortals, Titans, everything. But as with most modeling projects, there were a few bits of clay left over. Little pieces of unfathomable power.”

  “And someone thought it’d be a good idea to collect those pieces and forge them into a weapon,” I said.

  “Able to destroy anything,” Prometheus said. “Even a God.”

  “What happened to the claw?”

  “Last I heard, the Olympians had it. I imagine they still do.”

  I rubbed my chin and considered this. If everything Prometheus said was true, I now had a potential murder weapon. How did the killer manage to get his or her hands on it? And why didn’t the Olympians tell me about it from the beginning? Someone had some explaining to do.

  I stood up. “Thanks for your time, Prometheus.”

  “No problem.”

  “Do me a favor and keep this whole murder thing between me and you, okay?”

  Prometheus gave me a thumbs-up. “Sure thing.”

  As I started to leave, I remembered Nicolas’s description of the missing gorgon.

  “One more thing,” I said.

  “Hmm?”

  “What was up with the gorgon in the bedroom?”

  “Oh, that?” Prometheus laughed. “A friend of mine brought it over. She’s a gorgon charmer.”

  “Gorgon charmer?”

  Prometheus nodded. “Like a snake charmer, only with gorgons.”

  “How does she charm them without getting turned to stone?”

  “She’s half-gorgon, so she’s immune to their stares. And she can charm them into doing what she wants.”

  “What?” I raised an eyebrow.

  “It’s true,” Prometheus assured me. “Her mom is Medusa.”

  I could tell by the look in his eyes that he was telling the truth. I wished he’d been lying. Half-gorgon. I had no idea gorgons could mate with other species, and frankly, I would’ve been happier having never known. The thought of lying down with one of those ugly, smelly things was the stuff of nightmares. And Medusa had been the ugliest and smelliest of all.