Jupiter's Bones (3 page)

“Of course not. My hero was pure fantasy because I, like others, had thought him dead. When I found out that Ganz was still alive, I rejoiced. My hero had leaped from
the dry pages of publication and into real life. When others ridiculed his abrupt transformation, I had to find out for myself what brought about his startling change. So I came here. I heard him speak, I talked to the man, thought about his ideas. Once I entered his world, I never left. To me, Father Jupiter is still king of the universe.”

Melach Haolam
, Decker thought. A hefty title for a mere mortal. “So you’ve been with Father Jupiter how long?”

“Fourteen years. But getting back to Newton’s absolute time versus Einstein’s relative time, the analogy is this: I have no objection to Guru Pluto stepping in as acting head of the Order under
most
circumstances—i.e., Newtonian physics. Just as long as he doesn’t try to impose absolute time under Einsteinian conditions. Because if he does, I’m going to clean his relative clock, so to speak.”

Decker opened his mouth and closed it. “Are you saying he can act as the Order’s head just as long as he doesn’t overstep his bounds?”

“Precisely,” Bob stated. “You’re quick for a cop.”

Decker stared at him.

Again, Bob grinned. He swept his arm over the vista. “Father Jupiter loved the garden. Next to the heavens, he loved this world the most. Can’t say that I blame him.”

“It’s beautiful.”

“You know, to get here from the front of the compound is quite a trek. Certainly
not
within arm’s reach from the procession…which is where you’re supposed to be. Been doing a little space travel, sir?”

“I got lost.”

“I’ll bet.” Bob scratched his head. “I don’t care, but the dogs wouldn’t like it. Certainly, Pluto wouldn’t approve.”

“And that matters to you, Bob?”

The guru thought about that. “Let’s put it this way. At the moment, Pluto’s nerves are frayed. It’s best that you don’t taunt him. He’s handy with an ax.”

Decker was surprised by the implicit threat. “I beg your pardon?”

“Woodcutting.” Bob smirked. “I’ll show you a shortcut back.”

“Actually, if you could show me to Father Jupiter’s bedroom, I’d be much obliged.”

Bob tapped his foot. “Ordinarily, that’s off-limits. But since a birdie has told me that you’ve parked a couple of your lackeys there, guess I might as well show you the proverbial light. Or at least the way.” Bob started walking, but Decker didn’t follow. Bob stopped. “Yes?”

“You all going to be all right here? Maintain status quo, so to speak?”

Bob said “
You all? Much obliged?
Originally from the South, sir?”

“I guess that’s true if you consider that Florida was part of the Confederacy.” Decker turned grave. “I have
concerns
, Bob. I don’t want any unbalanced members trying to join Father Jupiter. An individual adult suicide is one thing. But mass suicide that includes
children
, well, that qualifies as murder.”

“And you’re wondering who would you arrest as the culprit if we were all dead?”

“Bob, I’m not
screwing
around anymore. I’m
very
concerned for the kids.”

Bob said, “Here we believe in free will. Father Jupiter said that nothing is sincere if it’s done under coercion. As far as I know, there are no plans for us to jump to the next level. Not that I can predict anyone’s individual behavior any more than I could predict the position of a photon at any given moment. But I do understand what you’re saying.”

Decker wasn’t too sure about that. “And if you hear anything about mass suicide, you’ll let me know immediately, correct?”

Bob said, “I don’t recall you being assigned to our welfare and safety.” A tap of the foot. “I suppose I could take your concern as a compliment. You care.”

“Especially when it comes to protecting kids.”

“Lieutenant, I live here, but I don’t live in a vacuum. I have a son. I want to see him grow to be a man.”

“So we have an understanding.”

“Up to a certain point.”

“Meaning?”

“As long as Newtonian physics hold, we’re fine. But when we get to Einsteinian travel in space time…what can I say? Things get pretty warped out there. I’ll show you the way to Father Jupiter’s bedroom now. Once you’re there, Lieutenant, you’re on your own.”

Guru Bob walked
Decker back to the Order’s entryway before deserting him for the young girl van driver known as Terra. He whisked her away, leaving Decker to flounder among the white-robed mourners. Standing solo, Decker felt as welcome as a leper. He hunted around the hallways until he saw yellow crime tape strung across a doorway. He stepped over it and went inside the room. The scene wasn’t much to speak about. In general, overdose suicides weren’t messy or bloody. It was just a matter of finding out which specific agent stopped either the breathing or the beating of the heart. More a matter for a doctor than a detective.

Ganz’s bedroom was significantly larger than his parishioners’ cells, but not grandiose by any means. He had a queen-sized bed instead of a cot, a dresser for his clothing instead of a trunk under the bed, and a wall of bookshelves. Most important, he had an attached bathroom. The techs had just finished dusting; black powder covered Ganz’s nightstand, bookshelves and bedposts. At the moment, Scott Oliver was rifling through Ganz’s clothes. Marge Dunn was scribbling in her notepad. She wore beige slacks, a white blouse and a black jacket. On her feet were basic black loafers with rubber soles. There were gold studs in her ears—no other jewelry. The simplest necklace could become a noose when dealing with
a violent felon. She wore no perfume either, because alien scents can screw up evidence.

She looked up. “Lieutenant.”

“Detective.” A smile. “What do you have?”

“A headache.” Marge pushed blond bangs from her brown eyes. “You have any Advil on you, Pete?”

“Always.” Years ago, Decker had been shot in the shoulder and arm. The wound had healed without motor nerve damage, but pain lingered like an unwanted relative. He tossed her his bottle. She took off her gloves and plunked out two pills, swallowing them dry. Then she hurled the bottle back. Decker caught it with one hand.

“According to Pluto…” Marge dropped her voice. “Have you met Pluto?”

Decker smiled. “I have met Pluto.”

Marge rolled her eyes. “A piece of work.”

“Wouldn’t want him for a houseguest.”

She smiled. “Anyway, Pluto’s story is that Ganz was found roughly in this kind of position.” She flung her hand back, opened her mouth and flopped her arms out at her side. “Rag doll style. Head and left arm hanging off the side of the bed. He was lying on the diagonal, the body skewed to the left. You can still see part of the outline on the sheets.”

Decker examined the depression in the rumpled coverings. It ran from the left top of the bed to the right bottom corner. “Who found him?”

“Venus—Jupiter’s significant other—did.” She paused and thought. “You know, there’re only nine planets. Wonder what the rest of the group call themselves?”

“There’re always the asteroids,” Oliver said as he rooted through the pockets of Jupiter’s purple robes. “Isn’t a mile-long asteroid gonna hit earth in something like twenty years?”

“Yeah, I heard something like that on the news.” Marge scratched her head. “Wonder if I should take an early retirement?”

“Where’s Venus?” Decker asked. “And please nobody say second rock from the sun.”

“At the processional, washing Jupiter’s feet as the people pass by,” Oliver answered. “It’s a full-time job because his followers keep kissing Jupiter’s big toe. And no, I don’t know what that means.”

Decker said, “Mennonites wash their feet before praying.”

“Why’s that?” Marge asked.

“I think Jesus used to wash the feet of his followers before praying out of humility. So did Abraham—he did it out of kindness. Of course, way back when, washing feet was a standard Middle Eastern custom. You live in the desert and wear sandals, you’re going to have dirty feet.”

Marge said, “Most of the people here wear tennis shoes.”

Decker thought a moment. “You know, Jews wash the dead bodies before corpses are buried. In addition to their own philosophy, maybe the Order co-opted bits and pieces from different, established religions. A little of this, a little of that.”

Oliver asked, “What is the group’s philosophy?”

“I’m not sure.” Decker pulled out the videotape. “Maybe this’ll help us find out.” He dropped it into a plastic bag.

“Where’d you get
that
, Loo?” Oliver asked.

“I’ll return it. Don’t worry.” Quickly, Decker changed the subject. “What time did Venus find the body?”

Marge said, “Pluto said around five in the morning.”

“
Pluto
said,” Decker stated. “Has anyone talked to Venus?”

“I’ve tried but she’s been in seclusion,” Oliver said. “
Incommunicado
until she took her place at the processional.”

“She’s going to have to be interviewed.” Decker rubbed his eyes. “So all the information about Jupiter’s death is via Pluto?”

Oliver nodded. “He’s the official spokesperson.”

“I don’t know about that.” Decker explained the cult’s pecking order, mentioning that there were three other privileged attendants. He told them about Bob.

Oliver said, “So who are the other two?”

Decker said, “Count the purple vests.”

“Venus was wearing a purple vest,” Oliver stated. “That leaves one more. Want me to go out to the processional and take a look, Loo?”

“Are you done here?”

Oliver shut the dresser drawer. “I’m done. I don’t know about Detective Dunn.”

Decker turned to Marge. “Find anything to suggest that this was anything other than a suicide?”

“Nothing at first glance, at least.” She consulted her notes. “Empty fifth of vodka under the bed, empty vial of…let me get the exact name…” She paged through her notes. “Nembutal sodium capsules…twenty milligrams per capsule. Vial was empty, prescribed originally for ten capsules, no refills. I also bagged a vial of diazepam—”

“Valium,” Decker said. “Diazepam is the generic name.”

Marge looked up. “Whatever you say. I don’t use that stuff. I found an empty vial prescribed for twenty tablets, also twenty milligrams per tablet.”

“Ganz’s name on the labels?”

“Not Ganz, Father Jupiter.”

Decker said, “The label read ‘Father Jupiter’?”

“Yes.”

Decker said, “Where’d you find the empty vials?”

“On his bed stand,” Marge said. “All the vials were dusted and bagged. To me, it plays out like a typical case of mixing drugs and alcohol.”

“What about anything injectable?” Decker asked.

No one spoke for a moment. Then Marge asked why.

“Because the ME found recent IM needle marks in his arm and butt.”

Oliver smiled sheepishly. “Uh…there’s a slew of shit in his medicine cabinet. I wrote it all down, but I didn’t bother to dust or bag it. Not with the two empty vials at his bedside.”

“I’ll bag it,” Decker said.

“It’s not that I screwed up—”

“Who said you screwed up?”

“You’ve got that look on your face, Deck.”

Oliver had screwed up, but Decker let it go. “Go out and find the remaining guru—”

“Yeah, yeah,” Oliver muttered, stepping over the crime tape. Deck wasn’t a bad guy. He never lorded his position over those in his command, and he didn’t buddy up to the brass. Begrudgingly, Oliver was forced to admit that Deck
probably
made it to the position on merit.

“Come back here when you’re done, Scott,” Decker called out.

“Fine, fine,” Oliver answered.

When he had left, Marge asked, “Needle marks?”

“Yep.”

“Self-inflicted?”

“In the arm, maybe. But in his butt?”

Marge regarded his face. “The empty fifth of vodka…the pills. Everything’s too neat. You have doubts, don’t you? So do I.”

“I just don’t like it when the crime scene has been altered. It would have been one thing if someone had tried to revive the body—moved it just enough to do CPR. But to
move
a corpse in order to place it in a shrine before contacting authorities? I find that odd. People are usually nervous around dead bodies.”

“The group’s strange. Maybe they have odd ideas about death and bodies.”

“Even so, Marge,
someone
should have known better. Then you have the fact that the death wasn’t called in by
anyone
in the group. It was called in by Ganz’s daughter. So how did she find out about it? And if no one in the
Order of the Rings called the police, what exactly
were
they planning to do with the corpse?”

“Bury it on the grounds?” she suggested. “They seem antiestablishment enough to do something like that.”

“That’s certainly true.” Decker slipped on a pair of latex gloves. “We have two immediate tasks.”

“We have to talk to Venus,” Marge said.

“Exactly. Do you want to do it? Might be better woman to woman.”

“Sure. I’m just about done here, so I can do it now. Unless you want me to bag the vials in the bathroom.”

“No, I’ll bag ’em. The second thing we need to know is—”

“Who from the group called Jupiter’s daughter?” Marge interrupted. “Which means someone should talk to her. You’ll do that, right?” She smiled. “Anything to get out of here.”

“Why waste my breath if you know what I’m going to say?”

Marge laughed. “No need to get peevish, Loo. All it means is that you trained me well.”

The bathroom was a closet crammed with a toilet, a wash-stand and a shower without a stall—a curtain cutting across one of the corners, and a mounted handheld water spray. White tile walls, white tile floors, all of it slippery when wet. A drain had been cut into the floor. Above the washstand was the medicine cabinet. Decker opened the cupboard, plastering his body against the opposite wall to avoid getting hit by the swing-out door. There appeared to be around thirty different white plastic bottles, each with its own label. At first glance, nothing was in duplicate form. Which meant everything would have to be bagged separately. Decker draped a clean cloth over the toilet seat—which was surprisingly in the down position (had a woman been in there?)—and laid the plastic evidence bags down on the clean surface. He also placed a
cloth over the washstand. Then he took out his pad and pen.

He started at the left upper corner:

Echinacea Purpura
—For supporting the immune system. One hundred capsules at 404 mg each.

Decker wrote down the name of the drug, the number of tablets per bottle and the dosage of each pill. Then he spilled out the remaining capsules on the cloth draped over the washstand and counted them. Twenty-six still in the container. Carefully, he picked them up and put them back into the bottle, counting each kerplunk as they dropped to the bottom. Twenty-six tablets on the first count, twenty-six tablets on the second count. It’s a wrap. He bagged and labeled the bottle.

One down, around twenty-nine more to go. He glared at the vials, knowing the same routine awaited him. Aah, the glamour of police work. Perhaps a little gray matter helped solve a few cases. But the true tricks of the trade were patience and an eye for detail. Of course, a confession never hurt. With any luck, he’d finish the bagging before the procession ended. And if he didn’t, he hoped that the gurus would leave him alone to do his thing.

He took another bottle from the shelf:
Zinc tablets
(as citrate). One hundred tablets at 10 mg each. Forty-two tablets remaining.

Bottle three:
Calcium
(as calcium citrate). One hundred tablets at 200 mg each. Eighty-six tablets left.

Bottle four:
Manganese
. One hundred tablets at 100 mg each. Seventy-seven left.

Bottle five:
Vitamin C
(as ascorbic acid). One hundred tablets at 100 mg each. Forty-two left.

Bottle six:
Sublingual B
₁₂
with folic acid and biotin
.

Decker read the instructions.

This unique formula is in sublingual (under tongue) form, the most effective form known for the absorption of vitamin B
₁₂
and folic acid (other than injection)
.

He thought a moment.

Other than injection
.

Maybe that explained the IM needle marks in Jupiter’s arms and butt. He was shooting up B
₁₂
. Maybe this was going to turn out to be simple.

One can hope. Decker turned the bottle in his gloved hand. It held one hundred tablets, each containing 800 mcg of vitamin B
₁₂
, folic acid and biotin. One hundred and eleven left.

Bottle seven:
Super-Antioxidants
. One hundred and twenty tablets, each containing 100,000 IU of vitamin A (one hundred% as beta-carotene), 500 mg of vitamin C, 200 IU of vitamin E and 25 mg of selenium.

Decker emptied the bottle onto the cloth. They looked like horse pills. Fifty-seven left.

Bottle eight:
Healthy bones supplement
: For a healthy skeletal system. This one contained calcium, zinc, manganese, magnesium, copper (as gluconate), boron, horsetail herb extract, yucca juice and vitamins C, D, B and K.

Decker perused his notes, then looked back at the shelves. Lots of concoctions containing the same supplements—vitamins C, D and K. And the minerals zinc, magnesium and chromium. There were five bottles holding megadoses of vitamin C. If Ganz had taken all of the pills, all at once, he would have been overdosing on many of the vitamins and minerals, some as much as ten thousand milligrams more than the recommended daily dose.

Is it possible to OD on vitamins? Decker didn’t see why not. Vitamins were drugs. Judy Little would know.

Moving from the first shelf to the second, Decker found more of the same—vitamins, minerals, extracts and supplements. Interestingly enough, as he waded through the bottles, he found no prescription drugs, nor did he locate any over-the-counter medication. Not even a lowly bottle of Tylenol. Yet on Ganz’s nightstand were recent prescription vials of Valium and Nembutal. And according to Marge, his name was typed on both of the labels.

Speculate later, Deck. For now just finish up
.

Fifteen minutes later, the cupboard was empty. As he
gathered the numerous evidence bags, Decker felt hostility over his shoulder.