6

      The thermos of coffee had run dry. Reluctantly, Decker traded the one vice for another. Reaching in the glove compartment of his unmarked, he pulled out a loose cigarette. This one happened to be a Marlboro, but it really didn’t matter. It had nicotine; it would do. He cranked the windows down, sat back in the driver’s seat and lit up, staring out the windshield as smoke exited from his nose and mouth. Chiding himself for the weakness although not too harshly.

      He had quit the noxious habit for almost six years. But then came a bloodbath, and the horrific images just wouldn’t quit. The dreaded flashbacks—over a year old—popped up at inconvenient times. It was at those moments when Decker went for the rush. He didn’t fully understand why he’d been thinking about that grisly scene at Estelle’s restaurant. If he had to rationalize it, he’d most likely chalk it up to a hinky feeling about the safety of the children still residing within the compounds of the Order of the Rings of God.

      He smoked slowly … leisurely, washing his nerves with a chemical calm. Since becoming a detective lieutenant, he rarely visited crime scenes—only in the extraordinary cases. Like Estelle’s … like this one. The death of famous people always made news, although Ganz hadn’t been an important figure in science for a long time.

      The meat wagon had left ten minutes ago, Ganz’s body safely aboard and heading for the morgue. Decker’s job was basically over. Now it was up to the pathologist. If all went well, he’d close shop here within fifteen minutes. He was hungry—it was past two in the afternoon—but wolfing down a sandwich in the car was bound to create a storm of stomach acid. Better to wait and grab a late lunch at home if possible. If not, even his desk was a better place to dine than behind the wheel of a car. He had just finished his smoke when Marge and Scott Oliver came through the gate of the compound. He got out of the car and waved them over.

      “What did you learn from Venus?” he asked Marge.

      She took out her notes. “The story goes like this. She went into Jupiter’s room around five in the morning. He had been sitting semiupright in his bed and appeared to have been sleeping.”

      “Eyes closed?”

      “Yes, eyes closed. At least that’s what she said. Venus called out to him. When he didn’t answer, she tried to shake him awake. At that point, he fell over lifeless, and she screamed. Her yells brought Pluto to the room. Immediately, she was ushered out, and taken back to her room. Half hour later, Pluto came to her and told her that Jupiter was dead.”

      Oliver said, “So she was in her room for a half hour, just waiting to hear something?”

      “Yep.”

      “Alone?” Decker asked.

      “With one of her attendants.” Marge hesitated. “Alpha-two.”

      “That’s the name?”

      “Apparently.”

      Oliver said, “So what was happening with Jupiter between the time she discovered his supposedly dead body and the time Pluto brought her the news?”

      “I don’t know. We should speak to Pluto—”

      “Wait, wait, wait,” Decker interrupted. “Scott, why did you say his ‘supposedly dead body’? Any reason to think that Jupiter wasn’t dead at that point?”

      “Loo, if someone would have done the normal thing—call in the paramedics or 911 as soon as the body was discovered—I would feel a lot better about this being a suicide. The way it stands now, with no official around to verify Ganz’s death until we arrived, which was around … what, Margie? Around seven?”

      “Closer to seven-fifteen.”

      “When’d you get here?” Oliver asked Decker.

      “Quarter to eight.”

      “So between the time that Venus went into Jupiter’s room and someone from the outside actually saw the body—that’s two hours. What do we think happened during that time? We’ve assumed that someone moved the body from the crime scene to the temple. Because we were told that Jupiter died in his bed. But we’re not even sure if that’s true. We also know that some dude named Nova signed a death certificate.”

      “Anyone talk to him?” Decker asked.

      Oliver said, “They couldn’t seem to locate him—which also makes me suspicious. Pluto said I could come back after dinner—around six. Being as it’s after two, I figured why push it for four hours. Now I know they’re going to prep Nova—tell him what to say and what not to say. But if he’s not a pathological liar, I’ll be able to see through that crap.”

      Decker agreed. Oliver turned to Marge. “You want to come back with me?”

      “Yeah, I’ll come back with you.”

      “So what are you doing for dinner? Want to do Chinese?”

      “I’ll do Chinese.”

      Oliver turned to Decker, “I don’t suppose you’ll be joining us.”

      “Thanks anyway, but I’d like to see my wife.”

      Oliver said, “I used to have one of those.”

      Decker smiled. “Yeah, well … tell you what. You two come over to the house after Nova’s interview.”

      Marge chuckled. “Rina would love that.”

      “She won’t be thrilled, but besides being a good sport, she genuinely likes you two.”

      “Aw shucks, I’m a-blushin’.” Oliver grinned. “Exactly how much does she like me?”

      Decker wagged his finger, then turned serious. “So you think something nasty went down, Scott?”

      “Yep. Moving the body is a cardinal sin, and they should have known better.”

      Decker organized his thoughts. “Let’s back it up … to your statement about the body being supposedly dead. For the moment, let’s assume that Venus was telling the truth: that she found Jupiter either dead or near death. If Jupiter was near death instead of actually dead, are you saying that someone, during those unaccounted for hours, knocked him off?”

      “Why not? It’s possible.”

      “But why would someone bother to commit murder if Ganz was already dying?”

      “Because maybe Jupiter had a chance