Jupiter’s Bones. Faye Kellerman

in years.”

      “Not true. Maybe it’s wishful thinking on their part. If he completely denies his real children, then they’ve co-opted the right to be substitute children.”

      “So you’ve seen your father recently?”

      “No, not recently. The last time I saw him was maybe fourteen … fifteen years ago. But I have talked to him. He would call me every so often, usually around my birthday. I’m surprised he remembered it. Not that he’d ever wish me a happy birthday. Instead, he’d say something like he’d been thinking about me. He’d ask me about what I was doing. I told him my latest research. If I asked him about an idea, he’d offer an opinion. If I didn’t, he wouldn’t. We’d talk for about twenty minutes. Then nothing until the next year.”

      “Why do you think he called you?”

      She shrugged. “Maybe he missed me. More likely, he missed his science—real science. Not the pseudoscientific garbage he’s been professing for the past fifteen years.”

      “You don’t approve.”

      “No, but that doesn’t matter.”

      “Have you ever been down to the Order?”

      “Way back when.”

      “And?”

      “And nothing. I came and I went. Jupiter wasn’t the father I remember. Nor did I want him to be. I found the entire experience disconcerting. Also, back then, I was mad at him. Your dad deserts you at a crucial moment in your life … disappears for ten years, well, you don’t suddenly welcome him back into your arms.”

      “Do you remember any of the people there?”

      “No, not really. Well, this one guy named Pluto. Short, obnoxious fellow. Hated me from the get-go simply because I was Jupiter’s daughter.”

      “He’s still there.”

      “It doesn’t surprise me. My dad likes people he can push around.”

      Decker paused for just a fraction. “He was pushing Pluto around?”

      “He was pushing everyone around. Dad always liked his underlings subservient.”

      “Your father was a notable man,” Decker said. “I’m sure he had underlings in academics.”

      “Yes, he had underlings, but he also had colleagues. Sometimes it’s hard to be challenged.”

      “Your father felt that way?”

      “I’m second-guessing, but yes, I think he didn’t like to be questioned. I think that’s one of the reasons he dropped out. As his ideas drifted farther and farther from the mainstream, he became a target for intense criticism. I don’t think that set well with him. But this is all very beside the point. I don’t know who called me. I certainly don’t know why she did. But I’m glad she did. It’s good to have the police involved.”

      “Did anyone from the Order other than your father ever call you before this?”

      “No.”

      “So this woman who called you … it was the first time you had heard her voice?”

      “Are you asking me if her voice sounded familiar?”

      “Did it?”

      “No. It wasn’t Venus, if that’s what you’re getting at.”

      “I’m not getting at anything. How do you know it wasn’t Venus?”

      She took down two mugs from the bookshelf. “Because I know what Venus sounds like. You see, Venus, née Jilliam Laham, was my girlhood best friend.”

       8

      Sipping coffee, her feet propped on the desk, Europa said, “Once upon a time, I had friends just like any other little girl. Jilliam was one of them. We formed an alliance out of mutual loneliness. Both of us had absentee fathers and narcissistic mothers, but her situation was more extreme. At least my father and I had occasional talks because I was scientifically inclined. Jilliam and her father had nothing in common. He was a high-powered attorney who hated children but loved sex with teenage girls. Looking back, I suppose her relationship with Dad was a natural sequela of her own father’s misbehavior.”

      She paused.

      “Our mothers had points in common as well. Mine was self-absorbed, but hers was selfish and egotistical. We met when we were eleven. I took pity on her. She seemed needy.” She rolled her eyes. “Little did I know.”

      Decker put down his mug. “When did she actually become involved with your father?”

      “Hard to say.” She took another drink from her cup. “My father vanished when I was fifteen. When he was resurrected as Jupiter some ten years later, I knew I had to see him. Jilliam came with me for moral support. It was a reunion from hell.”

      “In what way?”

      Europa’s eyes glazed over. “I wanted a father.” A pause. “I didn’t get one. I felt betrayed, but not surprised.”

      “How did you find out about his return?”

      Europa’s eyes took in Decker’s face. “A phone call.”

      The room fell quiet, the only sounds coming from the wall clock’s ticking and ambient noise from down below.

      “It wasn’t that he was cruel. He just couldn’t help being who he was. And that was good enough for Jilliam. She lapped up every word of his bizarre pseudoscientific ramblings. I don’t think she understood a word of it. But she did react to the force of his personality. Then I realized that the rapture was a two-way street. The way he looked at her—such naked hunger. Though in denial at the time, deep down I knew something was going to happen.”

      “Do you think they had a prior relationship before that reunion meeting?”

      “You mean before he disappeared? I doubt it.” A grimace. “She was only fifteen.”

      “Was your father inclined to seduce women?”

      Europa stared at him. “Why are you asking about Dad’s sexual proclivities?”

      “Your father’s death is under investigation.” Decker tapped his pencil. “I was just wondering if your father could have angered someone—like an irate husband or jealous boyfriend.”

      Europa immediately broke into laughter. It was so abrupt it took Decker by surprise.

      She said, “Lieutenant, the more appropriate question is who in this world hasn’t my father angered. Before he disappeared, he must have burned every bridge in existence. Often my brothers and I would muse that he had disappeared because he had done something even more nefarious than ruin careers—which, by the way, was a favorite hobby of his.”

      Quickly, Decker turned a page on his notepad. “Your father ruined careers?”

      Europa started to speak, then stopped herself. She peered at him with intense blue eyes. “Somehow you suckered me into talking about our family’s sordid saga. Although what it has to do with Dad’s death, I don’t know. No, Lieutenant, I really don’t think he murdered anyone. Back then, my brothers and I were engaging in childish fantasy, giving my father an exotic alibi to excuse his devastating and inexplicable behavior.”

      But Decker was persistent. “How did your father ruin careers? Did he sabotage experiments? Did he steal someone else’s research?”

      Europa stared out of the window. “No, nothing illegal. If he had done that, he