53
I stepped through the doorway. A breeze of cool air hit me. It was just what I needed after the fight in the parking lot.
A red carpet ran through the middle of the worship hall toward the pulpit. White pews flanked either side of it. A gold altar sparkled at the head of the worship hall. Behind it hung a stained glass mural of a brown bear standing atop a mountain I assumed to be Olympus. The artificial lighting gave the place an eerie blue tint. Everything was silent except the hum of the air conditioner.
A doorway to the right of the altar led me into a maze of corridors with unmarked white doors. I was hesitant to open them for fear of running into more fanatics. Or a bear’s gaping mouth.
I soon came to a door with a gold doorknocker on it. The knocker was shaped like the head of a bear. I sensed a theme.
I rapped the knocker. The sound echoed throughout the hall, and I instinctively glanced over my shoulder. A latch released with a soft click. Then a small voice came from the other side of the door.
“Enter.”
I opened the door and stepped into an office or, should I say, the template for an office. The walls and floor were white and featureless. A small desk stood near the east wall, and the room had no other furniture. A computer sat on top of the desk—one of those all-in-one desktops—along with a white phone. At the back of the room were large double doors, framed in a gold border with intricate carvings. The doors were outlined in blue masking tape, and the faint smell of paint lingered. I assumed Callisto and her followers were in the process of redecorating.
A girl who looked about twelve or thirteen sat behind the desk. She was bony and freckled. Her blond hair hung in a long ponytail. Her green eyes sparkled. Like the men outside, she too was dressed in all white.
She gasped and shot out of her chair, her eyes wide. “Wh-who are you?”
When she’d released the door latch, she had probably been expecting someone else. The bearded man or one of his goons perhaps.
I offered her a friendly smile. “Don’t be alarmed. I’m not here to cause trouble. My name is Plato Jones. I’m a private investigator. I’d like to speak with Callisto.”
The girl shook her head briskly. “The mistress is not to be disturbed.”
I wondered why Callisto even bothered to have an office if she never received visitors. I nodded and said, “Okay. Can I set up an appointment for later?”
“No. You have to leave, now.”
“I will. I promise. But first I need to speak with Callisto.”
Before the girl could respond, the phone on her desk rang. She answered it, keeping her eyes on me.
“Mistress?” She paused, listening. “Yes, right away.”
The girl pressed a button under her desk, and the double doors slowly swung open. She smiled at me. The fear was gone from her eyes, as if it had never been there.
“The Goddess will see you now.”
“Thanks.” I went through the doors.
Beyond was an indoor garden, complete with trees, bushes, and rock sculptures. Everywhere I looked, there was another explosion of multicolored flowers. I heard birdsong and a babbling brook, but I saw no birds, and no running water. I supposed the noises came from speakers hidden throughout the garden.
Callisto was the eight-hundred-pound bear in the room. She lounged atop a large stone altar in the center of the garden. Touches of white spotted her otherwise brown fur. A transparent white cloak draped her body, and a queen’s ransom of gold and diamond jewelry gleamed on her neck and legs.
Two men in white loincloths stood before the altar, holding AK-47s. Both were skinny and pale, with no visible body hair. Their eyes were large and vacant.
There was something very wrong about this scene. I pretended not to know what that something was.
With a rustle of fur and a clink of jewelry, Callisto sat up.
“Hello,” was the only thing I could think to say.
When Callisto spoke, her mouth moved just like a human’s. “Greetings, friend. Welcome to my home.”
Her voice was low and gentle, like a grandmother’s. But it didn’t put me at ease. In spite of how nice the voice sounded, it still came from a creature that could have broken me in half with one swipe of its paw. Why did I leave Herc outside?
I nodded in greeting. “My name is Plato Jones. I’m a private investigator. I need to ask you a few questions, if that’s alright.”
“Certainly.”
I glanced at the two bodyguards . . . playboys . . . or whatever they were.
“In private,” I said.
Callisto glanced at the men. At once, they shouldered their guns and marched from the garden into the office I’d just left.
“Thanks.”
“You’re very welcome,” Callisto said. “Before we get started, I would like to apologize for what happened out front. My children were merely trying to protect me.”
“You know about that?”
She smiled. The way her bottom lip hung made the gesture look a tad dopey. But her eyes shone with intelligence. “I know everything that goes on in my home.”
“In that case, let
me
apologize for beating the tar out of them.”
Callisto nodded. “Ever since the OBI came here, my children have been on edge.”
“The OBI’s been here?”
“Yes. Like you, they came to interrogate me about the recent murders.”
“How did that go?”
“Badly, I’m afraid. Because of my history with the First Family, they were convinced that I was guilty. They took my children hostage. Threatened to hurt them if I did not confess.”
“I take it you didn’t comply.”
Callisto shook her head. The jewelry around her neck glittered and jingled. “I cannot tell a lie, Mr. Jones, even to protect my family. It would go against everything I stand for.”
A bear with a sense of honor. Now I’d seen everything.
“I can’t imagine the OBI took kindly to that,” I said.
Callisto frowned. “Three of my children were beaten—almost to death. It pained me to see them suffer, but I stuck to my convictions. When the agents finally realized I wasn’t going to budge, they gave up and left.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” I said truthfully. “The OBI has a habit of pushing people around.”
“I told them I was no longer angry with Hera for what she did to me. And that my children and I wished only to live in peace. But they called me a liar. Do you believe as they do, Mr. Jones? That I am a killer?”
“Until I have all the facts, no one is guilty,” I said.
Or innocent
.
“You are either very wise or very naïve.”
“We’ll go with the first one.”
Callisto laughed. It sounded odd coming from a bear. “What would you like to know, Mr. Jones?”
“I’d like to know what you’ve been up to for the past month.”
“I haven’t been up to anything. I’ve been here the entire time.”
“The
entire
time?”
Callisto nodded. “I have not ventured outside these walls in twenty years.”
I cocked my brows. “Why?”
“My children will not permit me to leave. They wish to protect me from the outside world, from those who would do me harm.”
“Hera and the other Gods, you mean?”
“I have forgiven Hera for turning me into a beast, because it led me to my family. But I doubt the hatred she has toward me has diminished.”
“Yeah, Hera doesn’t strike me as the forgiving type,” I said. “Can you prove you were here at the time of the murders?”
Callisto nodded. “To ensure my safety, my children keep me under constant surveillance. If you like, I can provide you with surveillance footage from the last twenty years.”
I raised my hand. “Just the footage from last month will be fine.”
“Very well.”
“Let’s assume for a second that this footage proves your innocence. Do you know of anyone who has a grudge against the First Family?”
“Oh yes. Zeus and Hera have garnered many enemies over the centuries.”
“Any of these enemies live in New Olympia?”
Callisto glanced at the ceiling, apparently thinking. “Lamia is the only one I know of. Centuries ago, she had an affair with Zeus and bore him children. When Hera discovered the truth, she was enraged. She had the children murdered. Grief drove Lamia insane, and she began killing random children.”
“And eating them?” I asked.
“No,” Callisto said. “That part of the story was invented by parents to scare their children into behaving. You had better be good, or Lamia will come and gobble you up.” She chuckled.
Listening to her story made me think of the painting I’d seen in Hades’s office. The one of a woman eating a baby.
“Where I can find her?” I asked.
“I don’t know. I haven’t seen her in over forty years.”
I spent the next two days at my apartment, examining the footage Callisto had given me. I watched it in fast-forward on my Blu-ray player.
Every day was basically the same. Callisto awoke in the garden. Her disciples served her breakfast on a gold platter—a lamb or pig carcass. Once she was done eating, she gave an oration in the worship hall. Services lasted hours, and involved a lot of chanting and swaying back and forth on the part of the audience. At the conclusion of each service, Callisto returned to the garden, where her followers served her dinner—another carcass.
After dinner, Callisto and her two bodyguards engaged in various . . . activities. We’ll call them exercises. Highly disturbing exercises. Then she would climb onto her altar and sleep for the rest of the day. Rinse and repeat.
As far as I could tell, the footage hadn’t been doctored. There were no weird skips. No missing portions. Callisto was in the clear, for the moment. It irritated me to lose yet another suspect. But my visit to the Temple of the Bear hadn’t been a total bust. It gave me a new name to add to my list of suspects.
Of all the would-be killers out there, Lamia probably had the best motivation. Her children had been murdered by Hera. It only made sense that she’d react in kind.
I called the records office on Olympus for information on Lamia. As I waited for the clerk to pull up her file, I thought about how I’d finally gotten the break I had been waiting for. The one that was going to bust this case wide open.
Then I found out that Lamia had killed herself ten years ago.
54
Friday evening, I was driving home from the office when Chrysus called.
“Plato, I hope I haven’t caught you at a bad time.”
“Not at all.” I held my cell phone between my ear and shoulder as I made a turn. “How are you?”
“Good. Very good. I won’t take up much of your time. I just wanted to know if you were still interested in that second date.”
I tried to keep the smile out of my voice. “I am. When are you available?”
“Tonight, if that’s all right.”
“Tonight’s perfect. What time would you like me to pick you up?”
“Eight?”
“Eight it is.”
“See you then, Plato.”
I ended the call and rushed to my apartment to get cleaned up. I took a quick shower, toweled off, and rummaged through my closet for something to wear.
A lot of guys have trouble picking out date clothes. For me it’s a fairly easy procedure. When in doubt, go simple. A nice button-up, slacks, and dress shoes usually get the job done.
After I’d dressed, I sprayed myself with cologne and was out the door. En route to Chrysus’s place, I stopped by a grocery store and picked up a dozen red roses. A little spoiling never hurt.
I arrived at Chrysus’s house and rang the doorbell. She answered the door in a red mini-dress and matching heels. Blond hair billowed around her shoulders, and her makeup was bright. We smiled at the same time.
“You look great,” I said.
“So do you.”
I handed her the roses. “These are for you.”
Chrysus’s smile widened. She sniffed them. “Thank you. They’re lovely.”
“They match your outfit.”
“Yes, they do. So, where are you taking me?”
“Diamond Earl’s. I figured it’d be a nice departure from the old dinner-and-a-movie format. You heard of it?”
Chrysus shook her head. “I can’t say that I have.”
“In that case, you’re in for a surprise.”
We drove across town to the boardwalk. Diamond Earl’s was part restaurant, part video arcade. It was a popular haunt for professionals looking to cut loose after a hard week. Laughter filled the place, and digitized sound effects spewed from the arcade machines. Disco balls revolved overhead, giving off a kaleidoscope of colors. Bringing a classy woman like Chrysus to a place like this was a big risk, but a necessary one. She might consider me immature after this date, but I needed to know if she had a fun side under all that stuffiness.
The hostess seated us in a booth near the bar. Around us, men and women were getting wasted and pumping tokens into arcade machines. Several groups of small children were sprinkled into the mix. They ran wild, laughing and screaming and clutching streamers of prize tickets. Some genius parents thought it was a good idea to bring their kids along to spoil the vibe. I supposed it didn’t really matter. Later, I’d be too slammed to notice them.
A waitress took our drink orders—a cute brunette with full cheeks and large brown eyes. I asked for a gin and tonic. Chrysus got a Manhattan.
“Nice place, huh?” I asked.
Chrysus looked around. “It’s . . . interesting.”
“You ever been anywhere like this before?”
That moment, a group of children rushed past our table. One of them bumped her chair.
Chrysus gave a stiff smile. “Never.”
“You don’t like it.” It was a statement, not a question.
She smiled apologetically. “It’s not that. It’s just that this is all so unfamiliar. I feel out of my element.”
I grinned. “That’ll change after a few rounds. Trust me.”
“I’ll take your word for it.”
The waitress returned with our drinks and set them on the table. “You two ready to order?”
I looked to Chrysus. She shrugged.
“Yeah, I think we’re ready,” I told the waitress.
She took out her notepad. Chrysus ordered the grilled salmon pasta. I wanted a steak, though I’d already eaten too much red meat this week. But what the heck? You only live once—most of us, anyway.
The waitress wrote down our orders and hurried off.
I tried my gin and tonic. Nice and strong, just how I liked them. A few more would get me where I needed to be.
“Thanks for coming out,” I said to Chrysus.
“You don’t have to thank me.” She shook her head. “I’m the one who proposed the second date, remember?”
“Yeah, I remember. I’m still in shock over that, by the way. It’s not every day that a gorgeous woman asks me out. It’s usually the other way around.”
She smiled.
“Why don’t you tell me a little about yourself?” I suggested. “What do you like to do?”
“Besides work?”
“Yes, besides that.”
Chrysus narrowed her eyes, as though considering. “I like lots of things. But if I had to choose, I’d say I’m most partial to fishing.”
I cocked my brows, impressed.
A woman who fishes and drives a truck. I must be in Elysium.
“Oh really?”
She nodded. “I enjoy the serenity. In the city everything is so frantic, so chaotic. No one ever sits still. It’s nice to get away from all that and go back to a simpler time. But I’m rambling.” She sipped her drink. “Let’s talk about you now. What’s your favorite hobby?”
“I collect comic books.”
The corners of Chrysus’s mouth twitched upward. “Aren’t you a little old to be reading comics?”
“For your information, I don’t
read
comics. I collect them. Reading them decreases their value.”
“It still sounds a bit childish to me.”
“It’s not childish,” I argued. “I’ll have you know that comics are big business.”
“If you say so.” She giggled.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Of course.”
“Are you a Goddess?”
“Actually, I’m a spirit,” Chrysus said. “This body of mine is a vessel.”
“So you’re a ghost, then?”
“Not exactly. A ghost is a spirit of the dead. I am very much alive.”
“How’d you get the body?”
“Hephaestus made it for me, long ago.”
I leaned back, my mind blown. “He
made
a body for you? Is it organic?”
“Yes.”
I tried to respond but the words stuck in my throat. Since the Gods seldom flaunted their abilities, it was sometimes easy to forget how amazing they were.
“This body was designed to be faster and stronger than a human,” Chrysus continued. “And it never ages.”
I stared at her, unable to wrap my mind around this. “Hephaestus was a true genius.”
“Yes, he was.”
I took a large swig of my drink. I needed it. “What would happen to you if your body were destroyed? Would you be destroyed along with it? Or would you just float around until you found another?”
Chrysus’s blue eyes brightened when she laughed. “I would float around. Have you ever seen that speck of light in the corner of your eye? That would be me.”
“So you’re immortal?”
“I suppose so, but not invincible. My body can be trapped or injured, and I wouldn’t be able to escape—just like anyone else. But we’re talking about me again. I’d like to know more about you. Your file says that you’re divorced.”
“You read my file?”
“Yes. I like to know what kind of people I’m associating with before I go out with them. I hope you’re not insulted.”
“It’ll take more than that to insult me,” I assured her. “But yeah, I’m divorced.”
“What happened?”
“Work happened.” I finished off the last of my drink in one gulp. “My obligations to the OBI kept me away from home for most of the year. Alexis wanted a man who could spend more time with her. So she divorced me and found herself one.”
Chrysus reached across the table and patted my hand. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
I shook my head. “It’s ancient history.”
The waitress appeared to tell us our orders were almost ready. I requested another gin and tonic. Chrysus asked for an apple martini. The waitress ran off and came back shortly with our drinks. After she had gone, Chrysus asked, “Was it an ugly divorce?”
“Not really. I let her have the house and the cars. We split the money equally. I used my half to start my agency. I’m not sure what she used hers for.”
“Do you still love her?”
I swirled my drink. The ice clinked against the sides of the glass. “Yeah, I guess I do. In a way. But it doesn’t matter in the grand scheme of things. You can love someone with all your heart, but if you’re not meant to be together, then you just won’t be. No use lamenting over it. You know what I mean?”
“I believe so.”
“How about you?” I said. “Were you ever married?”
“Yes. A long time ago.”
“Was your husband a spirit?”
“No, he was mortal, a human,” Chrysus said. “He died of old age.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. It is, as you say, ancient history.”
I sipped my drink. “Do you date a lot?”
Chrysus laughed softly. “No. Like you, I also have trouble finding a balance between work and relationships. Some men don’t appreciate a career-driven woman.”
“You think you’ll ever settle down again?”
“Eventually. And you?”
“Eventually.”
She grinned.
I raised my glass. “Here’s to eventuality.”