Jupiter’s Bones. Faye Kellerman

are plenty of men who enjoy opera.”

      “None of them heterosexual.”

      “That’s ridiculous!”

      Oliver thought it over. “Okay. Maybe there are a few effete Englishmen who like opera. But I dare you to find one straight guy who likes ballet.”

      Decker tried again. “What time are you meeting Nova the podiatrist?”

      “Six-thirty,” Oliver said.

      Decker looked at his watch. “That’s in a half hour.”

      Oliver pointed to Marge’s entree. “Put a dent in your cashew chicken or we’ll never make it.”

      “I’ll take the rest to go. The soup filled me up.”

      Oliver said, “That’s another gay thing—soup. Straight guys would never get filled up by soup. Straight guys don’t even eat soup. Soup is a broad thing.”

      Marge said, “Were you always this concrete or am I just noticing it more?”

      Oliver rolled his eyes. To Decker, he said, “So Ganz was a schmuck. Doesn’t surprise me. All these cult leaders are megalomaniacs.” He attacked the remnants of his Mongolian chicken. “I mean look what he was into—time machines, alternative universes … instant travel through space. Playing God basically. Good sci-fi, but for a man of Ganz’s stature … he was freaking out.” He turned to Marge. “You know, the whacked-out ideas combined with the headaches that Venus told you about … maybe he had a brain tumor.”

      Decker said, “When Europa spoke to him, she said he was still scientifically sharp.”

      “That’s her opinion,” Oliver said.

      “I found it interesting that Ganz had made enemies.”

      “It’s irrelevant, Deck. Unless one of them sneaked into the Order and laced his vodka with cyanide.”

      Decker said, “You never know when the past can come back to haunt. Besides, Ganz wasn’t completely divorced from his former life. He kept in contact with Europa, his significant other was Europa’s girlhood friend—”

      “What?” Marge broke in. “You said that Europa’s around forty.”

      “She is.”

      “Venus looks about thirty.”

      “So she looks young,” Decker answered. “Europa said she was a pretty girl.” He told them Jilliam’s background.

      Marge said, “So Ganz was the father Jilliam never had. Where have I heard that one before?”

      “And she was also a young piece of ass,” Oliver said. “Yes, it’s the same-old, same-old. But so what? Why the fascination with the past, Deck? Do you have a former associate of Ganz who you think was out to get him?”

      Decker admitted he didn’t. “This Bob—the one who dated Europa—she said he was obsessed with Emil Ganz the scientist.”

      “But Bob met Ganz after he had become Jupiter, right?”

      “Right.”

      “So Bob couldn’t have been a past enemy. He would have been too young to be one of Ganz’s colleagues.”

      Decker conceded the point. “In fact, he was Europa’s former schoolmate.”

      “Look, Loo. Even if every single one of Ganz’s former acquaintances hated his guts, I don’t see what that would have to do with his death. Ganz stopped being Ganz twenty-five years ago.”

      Marge said, “If someone murdered him, it has to be a current member of the Order. Someone who wouldn’t arouse suspicion by being there, don’t you think?”

      “Maybe.”

      Oliver wiped his mouth. “You like this past coming back to get him theory, don’t you?”

      Decker said, “I’m trying to get a complete story. So if it turns out to be something other than suicide, I’ve got avenues to explore.”

      “Then start with Pluto,” Oliver said. “He’s my nominee for asshole of the month.”

      “Actually, I like Europa,” Decker said. “She phoned the police about her dad’s death, and she knows the key players in the Order—”

      “Including Pluto?” Oliver interrupted.

      “She claims she didn’t know Pluto, only that she met him and didn’t like him.”

      “Something in her favor,” Oliver said. “Why would she want to hurt her father now?”

      “He was a lousy father,” Marge said.

      “He was always a lousy father,” Oliver retorted. “I repeat. Why now? You think she’s been harboring a murderous grudge for twenty-five years?”

      “I like simple reasons,” Decker said. “Like money—”

      “Ganz had been a professor in his former life,” Oliver broke in. “How much money could he have saved up?”

      Marge said, “If he had won a major scientific award, maybe lots. What’s the Nobel prize worth these days?”

      “He didn’t win the Nobel prize,” Oliver grumped.

      “There are plenty of other organizations that give money to genuises just for being genuises,” Marge answered.

      “Or Ganz could have worked for NASA or some other scientific government agency,” Decker said. “Maybe he moonlighted in industry as a consultant—in aviation or aeronautics or even a think tank. Point is, we don’t know what Ganz was worth. We don’t even know who holds the deed for the Order.”

      “The building?”

      “The building, the land, its bank accounts. Does it have its own bank accounts? Since this is a suspicious death, maybe we should find out.”

      No one spoke for a moment. Then Marge said, “Looking into Ganz’s finances … do you think it’s a good use of our time, Pete?”

      The implication was right on. Decker blew out air. “Probably makes more sense to wait for the pathology reports to come in. Could be I’m obsessing.” He sipped tea and gave his words some consideration. “How busy is tomorrow, Margie? Could you give it a couple of hours?”

      Marge said, “Not a problem.”

      “Okay, do the basics. Bank accounts, brokerage accounts, insurance policies—” He stopped himself. “That’s going to take longer than a couple of hours. Margie, you do the bank and brokerage accounts. Scott, you call the assessor’s office and find out who holds the deed to the land, then poke around for insurance policies.”

      Marge said, “Pete, insurance isn’t applicable in cases of suicide.”

      “They’ll pay death benefits if it’s accidental death. And if he took out whole life insurance, there’d probably be a nice little nest egg cash policy as well as death benefits.”

      Oliver was dubious. “You want me to cold call insurance companies? That seems kinda … screwy.”

      He was right. Score another for his crew. Decker said, “How about this? Ganz was a full professor at Southwest University of Technology. Faculty usually gets all sorts of perks—health insurance, car insurance, life insurance. Start there with the insurance angle. If you reach a dead end, call it quits and we’ll reevaluate.”

      “Simple enough.” Oliver looked at Marge. “Are you gonna take that last egg roll?”

      “It’s all yours.” She turned to Decker. “If Ganz had secret money, don’t you think Venus would make a better suspect than Europa?”

      Decker