Murder on Olympus (4 page)

7

The next morning I returned to the Stone residence. Collin came out of the house at 8:30 dressed in his work clothes, carrying his portfolio and briefcase. I followed him to his workplace and waited in the parking lot until noon, when he took his lunch break.

Collin went to the same café he’d gone to the other day, but the mystery woman wasn’t there. He seemed neither disappointed nor surprised. He took a table near the window, ate his food, and returned to work.

When five o’clock rolled around, Collin resurfaced, talking on his cell phone. The way he smiled and laughed let me know it wasn’t Bellanca he was talking to. He folded himself into his tiny sports car, hauled ass out of the parking lot, and hit the freeway. For a while it seemed he might head home. But he skipped the exit that would’ve taken him to the Gales, and took the next one. I followed him down a long stretch of road bordered by shopping centers.

Collin pulled into one of the centers and drove around back, to a movie theater. Red and purple neon lights spelled out the name, Olympus 18 Cinemas, above the main entrance. Cars filled the parking lot. Vans and SUVs lined the curb, dropping off groups of overexcited preteens.

Collin parked his car and got out, no longer on the phone. I parked a few cars away, making sure I had a clear view of the entrance. As he made his way to the ticket booth, I shut off the engine and activated my dashboard camera.

He bought two tickets at the booth and sat down outside on a nearby bench.

Shortly, an orange Hummer H2 pulled into the parking lot, and out stepped the mystery woman from the day before. Her tight, black tank top and camouflage pants clung to some impressive curves—though they weren’t nearly as impressive as Bellanca’s. The cap and shades were the same ones she had worn to the café. She didn’t carry a purse.

She and Collin hugged, exchanged words, and then entered the theater. On the way in, Collin gave her a playful slap on the ass. What a gentleman.

Two hours later, a crowd of people spilled out of the theater, laughing and talking excitedly. Collin and the mystery woman were among them. They hung out near the main entrance for a while, chatting.

At first the exchange seemed to be going well. Both of them were smiling. And at one point, the mystery woman burst into laughter and gently slapped Collin on the shoulder. Then things turned sour. Collin said something that caused the mystery woman to sneer and walk off. He called after her. When she didn’t stop or look back, he followed and grabbed her by the wrist.

The woman snatched her arm free and glared at him. She stood completely still, her muscles tense. For a second I thought she would to take a swing at him. But Collin raised his hands in surrender. He said something and she calmed down a bit.

Collin continued to talk, his hands still raised. As the conversation progressed, the anger in the mystery woman’s face drained away, and she began to cry.

Collin embraced her. He rubbed her back in slow circles while whispering in her ear. When he pulled away, the mystery woman had regained her composure and was smiling again. He wiped the tears from her face with his thumb and gave her a peck on the lips. Her smile broadened, and she lowered her head. Collin lifted her chin with his finger. They talked for several minutes more. Then they kissed again and went their separate ways.

Collin went straight home after leaving the theater.

Things had gone fairly well. I had enough evidence to get Collin into some serious trouble. But it wasn’t enough.

The footage proved that Collin was dating another woman, not that he was actually screwing her. A lot of PIs would have turned in the evidence and called it a day. Not me. I had never left a job half-done, and I wasn’t about to start today.

8

Hermes stopped by my office the next day, wearing a gray suit. In his hand he carried a matching fedora. He didn’t strike me as a hat person. It would muss his hair.

“Good morning, Mr. Jones.” Hermes set his fedora on my desk and took a seat.

“Hermes,” I said with a wide, fake smile. “Back for another round of negotiations?”

He shrugged. “Why else would I be here?”

“The answer is still no.”

Hermes reached for the candy dish, which had been refilled since his last visit. I snatched it away before he could get anything, and hid it in my desk drawer.

“How long do you intend to keep this up?” he asked.

“Until the Gods learn how to clean up after themselves.”

“I wasn’t talking about the candy.”

“Neither was I.”

Hermes furrowed his brow. “This is a very serious matter, Mr. Jones. One that affects national security.”

“I realize that.”

“Then why won’t you help us?”

I rubbed my chin, pretending to think. “Because I don’t feel like it.”

Hermes sat still. Nothing moved except his jawbone, a clear sign that he was losing patience with me. “If not for Olympus, you’d be just another worthless mortal working a dead-end job. You owe us.”

I chuckled and leaned back in my chair.

“What’s so funny?” Hermes asked. His eyes narrowed.

I shook my head. “Just remembering something that happened a long time ago. When I was nine, the one thing I wanted more than anything else in the world was a Dr. Powers junior magician’s kit. But it was a hundred credits, and my family wasn’t very well off. I asked my dad to buy me one, even though I knew he was going to say no. I—”

“Is there a point to this story,” Hermes cut in, “or are you purposely trying to annoy me?”

I ignore him and continued. “As I was saying, I figured there was no harm in asking, right? To my surprise, he actually said yes. ‘Yes, son, I’ll get you your magic kit . . . if you get all As on your next report card.’”

“So you got all As,” Hermes said, dryly.

“For the next few months, I studied my ass off, and at the end of the semester, I came home with straight As. My dad was ecstatic. I can still see the look on his face. But more than that, I remember how excited I was. Soon, I, Plato Jones, would be the proud owner of a brand new Dr. Powers junior magician’s kit. Wow.”

“Yes, wow.” Hermes’s face was expressionless.

“Anyway, I asked my dad if we could pick one up. And you know what he said? ‘Sorry, sport. I don’t have the money right now.’ When I tell you I was pissed, you’d best believe I was pissed. I said to him, ‘That’s not fair! I lived up to my part of the deal. You have to live up to yours!’ Or something to that effect.”

“Are we getting to the point now?” Hermes asked.

“Just about.”

Hermes sighed and rolled his eyes skyward.

“Anyway,” I continued. “My dad apologized and said he’d get me one for Christmas, but I didn’t feel like waiting that long. So I decided to buy it myself. I mowed lawns, washed cars, did whatever needed to be done. By the end of the summer, I had earned enough money to buy that magic kit. It was one of the happiest days of my life.”

“I fail to see the significance of this story.”

“I figured as much,” I said. “What I’m getting at is this: the world doesn’t owe you any favors.”

We stared at each other, our eyes narrow and unblinking. A duel of wills.

Finally, Hermes smiled that sly smile of his.

“I see now that talking is useless.” He took a check from his coat pocket and put it on my desk. “Perhaps this will help influence your decision.”

I picked it up and gave a low whistle. “That’s a lot of money.”

“Yes, it is.”

“This would get my agency back on track.”

“Indeed.”

“And I’d have a good bit left over.”

“You would.”

“I could buy a new car, or move into a better apartment.” I stared at all those delicious zeros.

“Whatever you’d like.”

I sighed and put the check back on my desk. “You know, why don’t you hold onto this?”

Hermes raised his eyebrows. “What?”

“I told you before.” I handed the check back to him. “I don’t want your money.”

Hermes stared at me, apparently at a loss.

“You look surprised,” I said. “Sorry to burst your bubble, but not all mortals are money-grubbing idiots. Some of us are just regular idiots.”

Hermes slipped the check back into his pocket, frowning. “Why do you insist on being so difficult?”

I rose from my chair and walked to the door. “I’m not being difficult. As chief proprietor of this agency, I reserve the right to decline service to anyone. Right now I’m exercising that right.”

I opened the door.

Hermes stood and put on his fedora. It looked cooler on him than I’d thought it would. I wondered if it would look just as slick on me. Maybe I’d buy one and find out. Then I’d look like one of those hard-boiled PIs from the old days. I already had a trench coat somewhere in my closet.

“I grow tired of these games, Mr. Jones,” Hermes said.

“That makes two of us.”

“Expect to see me again soon.”

“How soon?”

“Very.” Hermes swept past me and through the doorway.

“Thanks for stopping by,” I called after him.

9

That evening, I sat on the couch, watching
Animal Cops
on my 50-inch, 1080p flat-screen. My TV was my baby, and the focal point of my living room. Housed in a glass entertainment center, it was the first thing visitors would notice when stepping into my apartment, and the thing they remembered most after they left. I couldn’t count how many hours Herc and I had spent seated in front of this monster, watching football and tossing back beers. Good times.

As the show went to a commercial break, my cell phone rang. I grabbed it from the end table and glanced at the caller ID. It was Alexis. Probably calling to pester me about the junk in the basement again.

I answered the call. “Plato’s Guns and Ammo. How can I help you?”

“Cut the funny business. I’m not in the mood.”

“You sound crankier than usual. What’s wrong? Did you and Caesar have a fight?”

“His name is Calais,” she snapped.

“Sorry. I don’t how I keep forgetting his name.”

“Of course you don’t.”

I flipped through the TV channels. Everything seemed to be on a commercial break. I settled on an infomercial. An old guy in a suit was hocking steam cleaners, while the woman next to him pretended to be amazed.

“Listen, Plato,” Alexis began. “There’s something I need to talk to you about.”

“If this is about me coming over to get my stuff, don’t worry.”

“Plato—”

I cut her off. “I’m working day and night to fit it into my schedule—”

“Plato—”

“It may not be next week, or even next month, but eventually I’ll get around to—”

“Plato!” Alexis shouted.

“Yes?”

“This isn’t about your stuff.”

“It isn’t?”

“No. I threw it out months ago.”

I put down the remote and sat forward. “Wait. You threw out my stuff?”

“Donated it, actually. To a thrift store.”

“All of it?”

“Every bit. But hey, you can always buy it back.”

I waited for her to tell me she was joking. She remained silent. A swell of grief built inside of me. “But my vintage beer steins. My Andy Gibb records. My commemorative coin collection.”

“All gone.”

“You heartless fiend,” I cried.

“Oh, don’t be so dramatic. If that junk was so important to you, you would’ve come and picked it up years ago.”

“Easy for you to say. Your stuff didn’t get trashed.”

“Plato, I didn’t call you to argue.”

I sneered at the phone. Of course she didn’t want to argue, now that she had gotten me into a fighting mood. Memories of my beloved junk cycled through my brain like photographic slides.

“Then why’d you call, Alexis?”

“There’s something I need to tell you.”

“What? Is it about Sparky? He’s dead, isn’t he? I knew I shouldn’t have let you keep him.”

“The dog is fine, Plato. I just . . .” Alexis paused for a moment. Then she blurted, “Calais and I are getting married.”

My mind went blank, as if someone had flipped a switch in my head. An instant later I was standing. I couldn’t remember getting up.

“Married?” The word sounded oddly foreign as it left my mouth.

“I wanted to tell you in person,” Alexis said, sounding apologetic. “That’s why I lied about the stuff in the basement. So you’d come over.”

I stared out the window, clueless about how I should feel, how I should react. My brain refused to work.

“Aren’t you going to say something?” Alexis asked.

“What do you want me to say?”

“I don’t know. Congratulations? Burn in Hades? Something.”

“We’ll go with congratulations,” I said.

“Are you angry?”

“No.”

Alexis sighed. “I was afraid of this.”

“Afraid of what?” I asked, my tone unintentionally aggressive.

“Afraid you’d get all jealous on me.”

“Jealous? Me?” I cringed at how high-pitched my voice had gotten.

“Yes, you,” she said. “Are you going to be all right?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I’m not sure.”

After an interval of silence, Alexis said, “Well anyway, that’s all I wanted to tell you. I guess I’ll let you go now.”

“Talk to you later.”

“Bye, Plato.”

We hung up. I sat down in my recliner and gazed at the ceiling. Alexis was getting married. I shouldn’t have been surprised. She was a good woman. It was only natural that someone would come along and scoop her up. Besides, she and I would’ve never worked out. We were too similar.

My body suddenly sagged, like I had swallowed a handful of sleeping pills. I got up and walked to the window. The neighbor’s cat strolled through the parking lot. It stopped and looked up at me.

I glared at it. “Somehow this is your fault.”

10

After the bomb Alexis had dropped on me, I was in no mood to go to work the next day. But I did anyway. Bellanca Stone had paid me to uncover the truth about her husband, and she would get her money’s worth.

I followed Collin from his house to his place of work and parked in a public lot across the street. Like the previous day, he came out of the office at lunchtime and drove to the same café. He took the same window seat and ordered some kind of sandwich. The mystery woman was nowhere in sight. Collin didn’t seem concerned. He didn’t shoot glances toward the door the way I’d expect him to do if he were waiting for her. He finished his food and returned to work.

Collin didn’t resurface until a few minutes before five. He hastened across the parking lot to his car, glancing at his wristwatch. Something was about to go down. I started my engine and followed him onto the highway.

He drove north for almost an hour, and then hit an exit. It emptied us onto a long road flanked by high-end clothing stores and expensive restaurants. Cop cars idled near the roadside. The officers inside held speed detection guns.

Collin drove just below the speed limit. We went through four intersections and turned left onto another street. Several miles up the road, the stores and eateries gave way to condominiums and gated communities.

Traffic was becoming sparse. I eased up on the accelerator and fell behind a little, so Collin wouldn’t get suspicious. At length, he turned into a neighborhood that had been built on a sprawling golf course. Mansions towered on either side of the street—dwarfing those of the Gales—some behind wrought iron gates, and others at the end of long tree-lined driveways. I couldn’t help wondering if the occupants ever got lost in their own homes.

Collin drove deep into the neighborhood and pulled into the driveway of a massive four-story mansion. I continued driving and parked on the adjacent street, across from two houses. The gap between them gave me a clear view of the front door. I turned on my dashboard camera and took a bite of beef jerky. Things were about to get very interesting.

Collin rang the doorbell. A muscular woman answered. Her red hair was in a buzz cut. Makeup plastered her face, black lipstick and lots of dark eye shadow. Her white tank top and baggy gray sweatpants did little to emphasize the fact that she was female. Her build told me it was the same woman from the café and the movie theater.

Seeing her this time, I had the feeling that I recognized her. Then it hit me. I had briefly met her during my time as an OBI agent. She was Enyo, a daughter of Zeus and Hera. A Goddess of Olympus.
She
was the mystery woman?

Enyo and Collin might have exchanged two words before she grabbed the back of his head and pulled him into a fierce kiss. Her other hand fondled his crotch. When she released him, he swayed in place. She seized him by the wrist and yanked him inside the mansion. The door slammed shut behind them.

My eyes remained glued to the door, struggling to process what I had just seen. Collin was cheating on his wife with Enyo. I leaned back in my chair, shaking my head. That a human was dating an immortal wasn’t shocking. It happened all the time—usually when the Gods got bored with screwing one another. Zeus and Aphrodite were notorious for having legions of human lovers.

What confused me was the couple itself.

Enyo was a notorious party girl. She was also the Goddess of War, counterpart to Ares, and a fighter by nature. What someone like her could ever see in a corporate stiff like Collin Stone, I’d never know.

But while Enyo’s motivations were shrouded in ambiguity, Collin’s were as clear as day. There was no question why he was interested in her. She brought excitement to his life. Danger. Everything he was missing at home. Also, Gods were rumored to be devils in bed. As a man, I could see the appeal. But that didn’t excuse his actions.

Ten minutes later, Collin stumbled outside, looking like he’d just lost a fight. His clothes and hair were rumpled, and his left eye was swollen shut.
Ten minutes
. Suddenly, I understood why he drove such a flashy car.

Enyo came outside as well. She walked him to his car, and the two of them shared a lengthy kiss. Their hands stayed busy the entire time, rubbing and groping. Watching them made me feel dirty. I could only imagine how poor Bellanca was going to feel.

After the make-out session, Collin got into his car and drove off. Enyo waited until his car had disappeared around the corner before going back inside the house. I turned off the camera. I now had enough evidence to prove that Collin was a cheater, and a minute man. But I wanted more, one more smidgen of proof. I realized it was unnecessary. But I really wanted to stick it to this creep.

Bellanca deserved better than him.