When the Gods Are Away, page 12
But I won’t fall
I won’t fail
I won’t falter
I will rise up again
I am strong
Though I have a mouse’s body,
I have the strength of a lion
A full-grown one, not a cub
AN ASSHOLE. THAT'S what Nicholas thought of him. And he was right to think so. It had already been three days, and Virgil still hadn’t found the killer. In fact, he was so incompetent that even a senator had heard about his incompetence. He continued reading.
I went to my parents’ house to tell them. They’d find out eventually, anyway, and I thought they might have some ideas for jobs. Boris and Alexandros were there. Of course, they started insulting me and telling me I was worthless since I didn’t have a job. They insinuated that being a police officer wasn’t a real job, that it was what people did when they weren’t good enough to be soldiers. I told them that at least police officers hadn’t lost every war for the last hundred years. So they beat me up.
Kostas and Collias showed up a few minutes later. I guess someone had called the police because of a noise disturbance. Collias said the neighbor had described it as a, ‘squealing sound.’ He asked me to demonstrate. I told him it was like the sound his mother made every time I stuck it to her, so he hit me in the stomach and kicked me in the ribs. It was worth it.
Then they arrested my brothers and made a big deal out of questioning me to find out the cause of the disturbance. They were laughing the whole time and referring to me as a civilian. I wanted to punch them all in the throats.
MOST OF THE REST OF the diary was a listing of Nicholas’ hatreds and his activities during the days of his unemployment. He seemed to spend most of his time, between job searches, at The Ferryman’s Oar. Tim’s name appeared in several entries, never in an incriminating way.
The entries contained complaints about not having enough money to buy food. Nicholas would have to pay rent at the end of the month and didn’t know how he would manage.
Virgil flipped to the next page. The last entry, written only three days ago, only hours before Virgil had arrived at Nicholas’ kitchen to examine the man’s lifeless body. Virgil sighed and began to read Nicholas’ last recorded thoughts.
Hera 28: Visited my parents again for Hera's Day. Always a mistake. I hate that house and all the reminders it has of my childhood. Those were the worst years of my life and the ones that followed weren’t much better.
Dad barely spoke to me. That’s normal, but he spoke even less this time. He’s never seemed happy with me and I think he wishes I had never been born. I don’t know what’s wrong with me, why I didn’t turn out like my brothers. They’re big and muscular and I never have been. I guess they always took my food away and taunted me before eating it. They were always assholes and they were my parents’ favorites.
During the visit, Mom told me I was ‘precious’ and a bunch of other bullshit. Said I was sensitive. She said she wasn’t surprised I’d been fired, that I wasn’t strong enough physically or mentally to be a police officer and that maybe I should consider being a hairstylist. I almost walked out right then, but stayed for dinner because I’m running out of food at home.
They never liked me, always thought I was a waste. I disappointed them every day.
I needed a drink, of course, so I went to the bar and then went to apply for another job. Big mistake. Don’t want to talk about it. The guard there took my ID card, threw me outside, and then threw my ID at me. It made a mark on my forehead.
I thought becoming a police officer would finally make my parents proud of me. It didn’t work.
VIRGIL CLOSED THE DIARY and rubbed his eyes, wiping away the stray moisture that had somehow accumulated there. That was it. Nicholas’ last recorded words, the last things he would ever say to the world. Nicholas was a man whose life was full of pain, someone who hurt just as badly as Virgil. And someone had seen him and decided he should die.
As Virgil set the pages next to him on the couch, he realized something: none of the bar’s denizens, other than Tim, knew where Nicholas lived. But, when Nicholas applied for a job during his last night alive, the guard there had taken his ID, and the ID had his address. It couldn’t be a coincidence that the guard had encountered him only hours before his murder and also knew his address.
Unfortunately, Nicholas had neglected to mention the most important piece of evidence: the guard's employer. Virgil stood and began pacing the frayed carpet. If he wanted to find where Nicholas went on that last night, he would have to drive everywhere in the city-state.
Someone had sent Virgil threatening notes, though, someone with access to the police department. Determining the identity of that spy might lead to the killer. Maybe he could ask Patroklus to...
No. Virgil had no hard evidence against the priest, but plenty of facts left him suspicious. Patroklus had access to the station, could have placed the note on Virgil's car, could have sabotaged the spells...
In fact, magic had revealed few clues in this investigation. Maybe Senator Kelipapalous and Chrysanthe were right: maybe it was time to try technology. Virgil knew the equipment he needed, but he couldn’t purchase it before the stores opened in the morning. After the chief’s deadline.
Virgil’s mouth tightened. The deadline didn’t matter. Even if the chief removed him from the case, Virgil would solve it. Nicholas had suffered and would receive little comfort for it, but he would at least be avenged.
Chapter 13
AS VIRGIL ENTERED THE examination room with his shopping bag, the room's familiar chill washed over him like a northern wind. Though the air stung his skin and smelled of decay and sterility, he felt more relaxed here than anywhere else. What does that say about me, that I only feel comfortable in a room designed for corpses?
As he walked by Nicholas’ shelf, he paused and placed a hand on it. “I’ll try to find out who did this,” he said in a whisper, wondering how Nicholas would have responded. “I know it’s not much, but it’s all I can do. I hope it will make you feel more at peace.”
He lowered his shopping bag onto the examination table, careful to not break the bag’s contents. The equipment had been expensive, costing him his entire savings and several hard-to-find books from his collection. He removed two items from the bag: a motion detector and a camera. The electronics store clerk had said it would be easy to figure out how to make the two work in combination, but even the clerk had looked as though he didn't believe it.
Leaning over the devices, Virgil picked up the motion detector and turned it in his hand. Several slots on each side looked as though they connected to... something. Maybe the camera had a corresponding slot or a wire or—
“What are you doing now?”
Schirra.
She and Stathis sauntered through the doorway, their faces more creased than normal. Schirra folded her arms across her chest as she stopped in the room’s center, her eyes hidden by the sunglasses she wore even indoors. Whatever reason the officers had for coming, Virgil knew he wouldn’t enjoy it. Not that he ever enjoyed much of anything.
“Oh, I, uh, nothing.” Virgil fumbled the detector, but managed to set it on the table without dropping it.
Schirra strode forward, boots clacking on the tile. She snatched up the camera, turning it in her hands. “Look at you, the hot-shot homicide detective, here to revolutionize how we fight crime.”
“It’s a camera. I—"
“I know what it is.” Schirra's mouth twisted. “It’s the fifty-fifth century. I’ve seen a camera. Zeus.”
“It doesn’t matter, anyway,” Stathis said. “You’re off the case.”
“Yeah, I know the deadline was midnight last night,” Virgil said. "I've got an idea, though, and I thought the chief might—"
“The chief is dead.” Schirra bowed her head, and Stathis followed her lead.
Virgil blinked. “Wh...”
The chief is... dead? Virgil remembered seeing him yesterday at the funeral, bombastic and angry. To imagine the chief now lying motionless on the ground, like one of his victims, felt surreal. Chief Dimitriou had survived eleven years in his position. Compared to the normal life expectancy of police chiefs, he had been practically immortal.
Why didn't I hear before now? He hadn't, he supposed, spoken to anyone other than the store clerk this morning. Last night, he'd slept soundly enough that he might have missed a call, despite not taking a sleeping pill for the first time in days.
"When? What happened?"
"Like you care." Stathis snorted. "Bet you're even happy about it, since the chief was on your ass to do your job on time."
Of course, Stathis didn't know Virgil hadn't planned to abide by the ultimatum. “I didn’t... this...” Virgil shook his head. “How did it happen?”
Stathis shrugged. “He found out who killed Nicholas.”
“What? He did? Why didn’t he tell me?” Then Virgil realized what had happened.
“He did it the old-fashioned way,” Stathis said, confirming Virgil’s fear. “None of your detective mumbo-jumbo. He decided one of the neighbors did it and challenged him to single combat yesterday afternoon.”
Yesterday afternoon? Before the deadline expired? Why?
Schirra shook her head. “But Ares wasn’t on the chief’s side, and...”
“I don’t think Ares had anything to do with it,” Virgil said.
“Shut up!” Schirra looked as though she wanted to tear him in half.
Virgil's face reddened, and he looked to the floor. He had said the wrong thing again. With every conversation, he managed to make someone angry.
Schirra hadn't finished being angry. “You sound just like my heathen brother, attributing everything to Odin or Loki or some other false god! Your detective methods aren’t helping this case at all. You think you’re so much smarter than we are. You look down on us and tell yourself we couldn’t possibly understand how to track down a murderer. You just use that as a shield, hiding behind your rules and books, because you’re too scared to face a killer. Well, Chief Dimitriou wasn’t afraid, and you had better not say anything to tarnish his memory.”
“Yeah!” said Stathis. “All you do is slow things down. You’re a coward!”
Virgil nodded. "I know I'm a coward. But I'm not slowing things down. This is the right—"
“Shut up!” Schirra said. “I can’t believe you have the audacity to question the actions of someone who has done more to punish crime than anyone else in the history of our police department."
“Yeah!” said Stathis. “Your teachers were stupid cowards and so are you! You just sit here all day and play with your cameras because you don’t have the balls to fight."
Did cowardice motivate my choice of career? He swallowed. “No, this—"
“Chief Dimitriou was a real man and he died like a real man.”
“It’s just... it doesn’t make any sense to handle a criminal investigation like this. You just randomly decide who you think the murderer is and then fight them to prove that you’re right?”
Stathis raised his thick fists. “You’d better watch it, Virgil. I’ve had enough of your shit.”
Virgil took a step back. “I’m not trying to be rude, so please don’t hurt me, but what conclusions would you draw from the fact that, since the chief has taken office, the average height of convicted criminals has dropped by almost thirty centimeters?”
“You shut up!” Stathis charged forward.
Virgil couldn’t dodge before Stathis shoved him in the chest with both hands. Virgil had the briefest sensation of backward motion before slamming into the lab table behind him. His spine screamed while he slid down the table to the floor. Throbbing waves of pain cascaded through his back, rising and falling. Did I break anything? Am I going to be paralyzed?
I deserve this. I deserve this.
Stathis loomed over him with bunched fists. “Chief Dimitriou was the best police chief we’ve had in years! He killed over five hundred murderers!”
“Anyway.” Schirra put a hand on Stathis’s shoulder and pointed to Nicholas' shelf. “Case closed. Let’s coin ‘im.”
“Wait,” croaked Virgil as the two began to remove coins from containers on their utility belts. If he wanted to try magic again, either with Patroklus or another priest, he couldn’t let the officers separate Nicholas’ soul from the body.
Stathis slid open Nicholas’ shelf. Icy fog rose from the compartment.
"Stop." Virgil placed both hands on the floor and pushed himself up. Pain washed over him, but he could move. "Please. I'm not done yet."
Schirra’s eyebrows rose as she turned to Virgil. “You look done to me.”
“Besides,” Stathis added, “the chief already found the murderer. Investigation’s over.”
Virgil winced as his muscles spasmed. “No, it’s not. The chief put me in charge of this.” He clutched his back. “Besides, the chief lost the fight, which means that, legally, he didn’t find the murderer.”
Stathis held a coin in his hand, only centimeters above Nicholas’ mouth, and looked to Schirra for confirmation. If she made even the slightest nod, she would cripple or destroy the investigation. Virgil watched her, hoping she would understand.
For a moment, she stared forward without expression. Then she sighed and waved Stathis away. “Whatever, Virgil. You can keep working on it until you give up. At least it'll be fun watching you make a fool of yourself."
Virgil nodded. "Thank you."
"You might want to hurry, though. I could change my mind at any moment."
The two officers returned the coins to their containers. Stathis turned to Virgil and sneered. “Look, Virgil, maybe the neighbor didn’t really kill Nicholas, but the point is: nobody cares. If it weren’t for you, we'd have already picked the killer."
Schirra smirked. “Kinda like what would’ve happened if you were the one who got killed.”
Virgil knew they spoke the truth. The chief likely wouldn’t have bothered to avenge Virgil’s death in any real way. Virgil would have died and been buried, unmourned by anyone except Chrysanthe. The Elysian Fields service would have looked ridiculous with only one attendee.
Schirra shook her head and looked at Stathis. “Anyway, we need to go to the conference room; we’re choosing a new chief.” She turned to Virgil. “You can watch, but if you say anything disrespectful, I won’t save you from the consequences.”
Virgil stepped into the sweltering air of the crowded conference room, which stank of the sweat and farts of thirty men, and immediately received an elbow to the gut. He doubled over, coughing, but Michaelides stared straight ahead with an innocent expression and a twinkling eye. Virgil grunted and shook his head; even if he’d felt inclined to demand an apology, he knew Michaelides wouldn’t grant it. Instead, Virgil maneuvered his way to the side wall, well away from the gathering of officers and the table that occupied the center of the room.
All of Arestia's police officers had gathered in this room. That meant the person who left the notes on the corpse and in Virgil’s car was likely here. Maybe tomorrow, that person's face would show up on the film from the cameras. Virgil wondered who it would be.
Schirra and Stathis, who had entered several steps ahead of him, forced their way through the morass toward the front of the room. The other officers didn’t seem willing to budge, resulting in awkward battles fought with shoulders and elbows.
“Sorry there’s not a dress version of the uniform for you, Schirra,” Tektón said as Schirra bulled her way past him. Tektón was spiteful and cruel enough to have desecrated the corpse or to agree to monitor Virgil. A suspect, then.
Galanos chuckled. “Yeah. A lady like you would look a lot prettier in a dress. Or maybe with a couple of your top buttons undone.” Galanos had the requisite cruelty to impede the investigation, but not the intelligence.
Schirra frowned, but said nothing. Despite how she treated him, Virgil felt a pang of sympathy for her. She isn't the kind of person to clandestinely sabotage an investigation. If she wanted me to stop, she would arrange my compliance with her fists. Besides, she already had the opportunity a few minutes ago in the lab.
Stathis shoved his way toward Galanos. Schirra halted her partner with a hand on his shoulder. He glared, but relented and let his hands fall to his sides.
“Come on, Schirra, lighten up,” Galanos said. “It’s just a joke. No need to get all mad.”
“When you have to tell someone it’s a joke,” Schirra said in a frosty voice, “it’s probably not a good one.” She elbowed past him, with Stathis following in her wake.
Other conversations continued throughout the room. Near Virgil, two officers were discussing the latest episode of ‘Spies For the Alliance: Sparta’ in which the SFA tracks down a pair of European militants attempting to destroy an orphanage. Only feverish political manipulation by the European government prevented a righteous war the Greek Alliance would surely have won. Stupid stuff, but people seemed to enjoy it.
“I haven’t told you about that day?” Kostas was saying as he entered the room with a pair of officers. “Yeah, so some guy at temple was eyeing Collias’ wife. Giving her a good, long, up-and-down like he wanted more than just a piece. Collias was busy praying, he’s a good guy like that, but I saw it. So I stood up, walked down the row, grabbed the guy by the throat, and said so everyone could hear, ‘You so much as glance at my partner’s wife again, your eyes are going straight up your ass.’ Guy kept his face planted on the floor rest of the service, and from what I heard, started driving all the way across town every week just to go to another temple instead.”
Kostas’ audience laughed. Virgil stepped out of Kostas’ way as the officer pushed past and took a seat at the head of the conference table.
Kostas cleared his throat and raised his hand. He’s the kind of person who would have volunteered to hinder the Nicholas investigation and would have begged for permission to threaten me.
