Jupiter’s Bones. Faye Kellerman

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 B₁₂, 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), 500mg of vitamin C, 200 IU of vitamin E and 25mg 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.

      “Just what do you think you’re doing?”

      Pluto’s voice. Decker turned around, knocking into the little man with his shoulder. “Are you all right?”

      “No, I’m not all right.” Pluto rubbed his shoulder. “You clobbered me.”

      “It was an accident. There’s not enough room in here for two people.”

      “Agreed. You shouldn’t be here.” Pluto’s face was bright red. He continued to massage his shoulder.

      Decker felt the hairs on his neck rise in protest. But he managed to check his temper. “Sir, this is a crime scene. And you, being here, are in violation of the law. Now I know you want me out of your hair. So make it easy for me and leave—”

      “You’re taking personal property—”

      “I am taking evidence from a crime scene. Now if you don’t get out of my way, and out of this room, I’m going to handcuff and arrest you in front of all your people.”

      “Which will only serve to stoke their simmering anger—”

      “I’m willing to chance it if you’re willing to spend a night in jail. Now move it!”

      Pluto rocked on his feet, faltered, then stepped aside. Decker stomped out of the bathroom, bags in arms, then placed them on the floor. He searched around for shopping bags for easier transport. “Is the processional done?”

      Pluto sighed. “Yes.” Another sigh. “Yes, it’s done.”

      Decker regarded the man’s face. He seemed genuinely saddened. But as soon as he realized Decker’s eyes were on him, he hardened his expression. “I suppose you ghouls are going to take Father Jupiter’s body now. When will it be released for our private burial?”

      “We won’t keep it any longer than necessary.” Decker spoke softly. “I’m very sorry for your loss, sir. Father Jupiter was a great man.”

      Pluto held the stare, then looked away. “Yes, he was. Thank you for your words.”

      Decker paused. “Perhaps you can explain something to me. The death was called in by Ganz’s—”

      “Father Jupiter.”

      “Yes, of course. The call to us came by way of Father Jupiter’s daughter. Now, as far as I know, no one in the Order of the Rings of God called it in.”

      Pluto was silent.

      Decker asked, “Were you planning on reporting the death, Guru Pluto?”

      Pluto whispered, “It makes no difference now.”

      “So you weren’t planning on reporting it—”

      “I didn’t say that.”

      “Sir, in the future, please be advised that you must report any death. It’s the law.”

      “It’s irrelevant now,” the guru stated.

      Again, Decker hesitated. “Out of curiosity, were you planning to bury the body on the grounds?”

      “What might have been is no longer a concern.”

      “Fair enough,” Decker answered. “No point in speculation. Just one more question, Pluto. Who called Father Jupiter’s daughter and told her the news?”

      “I wish I knew. Whoever did it needs to be addressed.”

      “Addressed?”

      “For breaking the vows and overstepping the chains,” Pluto orated. “You have your laws, we have ours.”

       5

      It took some time and a little internal maneuvering, but eventually Marge was given the go-ahead to interview Venus. She had expected her bedroom to adjoin Ganz’s, but it was located on the other side of the compound. She was led to the chamber, flanked by two gendarmes in white robes, each one looking very grave. One had facial hair, the other was clean-shaven, but both had close-cropped haircuts. The bearded man knocked on the door. It was answered by a smoky, female voice asking who was there. After Marge identified herself, the voice told her to come in. Beard opened the door, but didn’t dare cross the threshold—as if restrained by an invisible net.

      Marge went inside, then took a moment to look around. Spare but bright, the room held a double bed, a Shaker-like chair and a bookshelf. Venus was propped up by pillows, her legs stretched out atop the bedcover.

      Talking to her guard, she said, “You may go now, Brother Ansel.”

      The man hesitated, then spoke in a nasal voice. “Are you sure you want to be left alone with a violator, Mother Venus?”

      “Yes, I can manage. Thank you for your consideration. You may go.”

      “As you wish.” He left, throwing Marge a hostile look as he shut the door. The two women made eye contact.

      Marge said, “Thank you for seeing me, Ms …”

      “Just call me Mother Venus. Or just Venus.” She’d been reading a paperback. She put it down in the spine-up position, and pointed to the chair. “Have a seat.”

      “Thank you.” Good-looking, Marge thought. Even with red eyes and no makeup, her features were striking. Appearing to be around thirty, Venus had shoulder-length, chestnut hair that framed an oval face. Translucent green eyes were shaded by enormous lashes. Her silken complexion was wan—to be expected—but Marge detected a hint of pink at the cheekbones. She wore a bright blue robe that plunged at the neckline and fell open mid-thigh, exposing graceful legs. She wasn’t wearing a bra, but even without the support, she had cleavage. Her feet were bare and her left ankle was adorned with a gold