Jupiter’s Bones

Venus nodded.

“Eyes closed?”

Again, Venus nodded.

“Anything odd about his position?”

“Meaning?” Venus asked.

“Did he appear to be comfortable? Were his limbs contorted, or was anything awry in the room?”

Venus shook her head no. “Everything seemed … fine.”

“Did you see bottles of medicine at his bedside? Things like painkillers or sleeping pills—”

“Jupiter didn’t take painkillers or sleeping pills. He didn’t ascribe to any sort of Western medicine.”

“Did you see any needles—”

“No,” Venus answered. “No needles. Although Jupiter sometimes injected himself with vitamins.”

Marge took in her words. “We didn’t find any syringe.”

“I keep them in my bathroom. Take a look. I have a case of disposables. We use them for hygienic purposes.”

How convenient. Marge said, “Did you inject him with vitamins?”

She raised her eyes. “I injected him a couple of times in the butt.”

“Recently?”

“Three, four days ago.”

“Ah,” Marge said. That explained the needle marks. At least, that was her explanation. She said, “What can you tell me about the bottle of vodka—”

“Ordinarily, Jupiter did not drink. So if he drank himself … himself comatose … or … or dead …” She gulped air. “It could have only been for the purpose of transporting himself to a higher level of faith.”

Transporting himself. Marge would have to get back to that one. “Did you see the bottle in view when you went to wake him up?”

Venus shook her head.

Marge said, “Let me review for a moment. Just see if I have it right. You went into Jupiter’s bedroom around five in the morning to wake him for prayers. He was sitting upright—”

“Semiupright.”

“Semiupright,” Marge corrected herself. “You called out to him and he didn’t answer. You went to shake him awake, and he slumped over, head over the edge of the mattress. At that point, you screamed, and Pluto came in. Is that accurate so far?”

“Yes.”

“Did Pluto come in alone?”

“I believe so. But within seconds, there was a crowd. It was horrible.” Her eyes welled up with tears. “Just … dreadful.”

“Then someone brought you back here, to your bedroom, correct?”

“One of my attendants—Alpha-two, if I’m not mistaken.”

“Alpha-two is your attendant’s name?”

“All my attendants are Alphas.”

“Do they wear vests and robes like Jupiter’s attendants?”

A slight smile. It gave light to her face. Venus said, “Someone explained the color-coding to you. No. My attendants wear white robes with pink collars. They are privileged among the women, but none of them are as privileged as Jupiter’s attendants. This is a male-dominated society. You are told that upfront. Besides, it doesn’t affect me. As Jupiter’s chosen mother, I’m second in command … well, I guess at the moment, I’m officially in command although temporarily Pluto is handling things. Until I can compose myself. But that’s only temporary. I have no intention of letting Pluto step into Jupiter’s shoes. I don’t believe that even Pluto wants that onerous responsibility.”

Marge nodded, scribbling down the cult’s pecking order. “Who will succeed Jupiter?”

“I don’t know who could possibly succeed him. As far as I know, Father Jupiter did not leave any line of succession. And with his sudden death …” Venus’s eyes darted from side to side. “It will have to be worked out. But I assure you the Order of the Rings of God will remain intact. We owe it to Father Jupiter to further his ideals of love, charity and spirituality.”

“Lofty goals.”

“From a lofty man.”

“One more thing,” Marge said. “Pluto came back to your room to tell you the news.”

“Correct.”

“Do you recall the time?”

“Around a half hour later. So maybe it was five-thirty. But I wasn’t clocking him.”

“Of course. So as best as you can remember, Pluto came to your room and told you the news about five-thirty?”

“I suppose.” She buried her face in her hands, then looked up. “It all happened very quickly … very surreal. I still can’t believe … I knew he hadn’t been himself, but …”

“Hadn’t been himself in what way?” Marge asked.

“He wasn’t exactly ill, but he seemed … drained. He hadn’t been in his ordinarily high spirits for least six months. And he often held his head—like he had a bad headache. I was concerned. But when I asked him about it, he shrugged me off and assured me it was all very normal. That it was part of the process.”

“What process?”

Venus eyed Marge. “If I told you, you’d scoff. All the violators scoff.”

“Try me.”

Again Venus hesitated. “Part of the communication process with the beyond. Father Jupiter knew that his body was being tapped of its life energies because he had begun to make serious contact with the forces.”

Again, the room fell silent.