Jupiter’s Bones

Venus said, “You wouldn’t understand. You couldn’t understand.”

Marge tried to keep skepticism out of her voice. “What kind of forces?”

Venus waved her off.

“Please. I want to understand, Venus. Who had Jupiter contacted?” Maybe someone was threatening him. “Tell me.” Keep the voice even, Dunn. “Were they humans? Were they aliens?”

To Marge, it appeared that Venus was appraising her sincerity. Finally, the alluring woman said, “Not aliens as you perceive them—little beeping things with five eyes and antennas.”

Her voice became intense.

“For about six months, Jupiter had been receiving signals … electromagnetic waves that he felt were coming from an alternative universe. He was particularly excited because these signals were not classic Big Bang background radiation. You know … stuff given off when the universe was created. They seemed to be organized signals. How he could tell, I don’t know. But that’s why Jupiter was Jupiter. Only a man of his scope could interpret such things.”

Marge tapped her pad. “He was a brilliant man.”

Venus’s expression took on a slight sneer—the upward curve of her lips, the roll of her eyes. “An understatement, Detective.”

Marge ignored the condescension. “Tell me about these signals, Venus.”

The young woman’s smile was patient. All in all, Venus appeared cooperative.

“Jupiter said these were far-away stellar signals—many, many light-years away. So distant that they may have come from the original creation of matter. When the universe was still in ten dimensions instead of four. You know about the four dimensions, don’t you—length, width, depth and time as a function of space. Space time. Einsteinian time. Do you know about Einstein’s special theory of relativity? E equals MC squared?”

“I wasn’t great in science,” Marge said. “Maybe you could skip the equations and just tell me in layman’s terms about the signals?”

The female guru seemed relieved and went on. “According to Jupiter, there are other universes that parallel our own. You get to them through the black holes. Unfortunately, once you enter the event horizon, you can’t come back. Even if Jupiter’s space travel theories are eventually accepted, and time is proven to be multidirectional, travel through black holes is strictly one way. So no one can ever come back to tell us about the experience.”

No one spoke. Marge glanced at her notes—black holes, ten dimensions, time multidirectional. She was lost, but so what? She was investigating a suicide, not exploring the Order’s whacked-out philosophy. Still, it was not something to be completely overlooked. The Order’s “isms” may be the reason why Jupiter killed himself.

Venus’s eyes clouded over. “I think I may have mixed up a few points. All I know is that it made perfect sense when Jupiter explained it. He was preparing us for the eventuality of it all. Especially because of the millennia. The timing just seemed to work out perfectly.”

Marge’s ears perked up. “Eventuality of what?”

“Space travel to a different physical as well as metaphysical plane. He claimed that time was closing in. From the Big Bang to the Big Crunch. Of course, Jupiter’s concept of time is different from ours. A short time to him could have been a million light-years. Which is a very long time.” She looked down. “Anyway, this is all tangential. I guess I’m just trying to figure out why.” She exhaled. “Life as we know it is so … short … so temporary.”

“Jupiter’s space travel …” Marge leaned forward. “Did part of the process include suicide?”

“In theory, I suppose that suicide could be made part of it. Not that Jupiter ever mentioned suicide as a mode of transport. He spoke in more theoretical terms. Let me assure you, Detective, that the Order of the Rings of God is no Heaven’s Gate. Jupiter was no crackpot. He certainly didn’t believe in castration. We have children here. Mass suicide isn’t part of our philosophy.”

Marge said, “Still, it appears that Jupiter did take his own life.”

“If he made that choice, he had a very good reason.”

Marge said, “Did you happen to notice any suicide note?”

“No. But I was taken away so quickly … there could have been.” Seconds ticked by. “Did you find something?”

“Did Jupiter ever talk about suicide?”

“Mostly he spoke of the temporal issues of life. Was there a note, Detective?”

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out. If Pluto removed something from Jupiter’s bedroom—”

“I’ll find out. Whatever is in Jupiter’s bedroom now belongs to me.” A beat. “Once you’re done with the questioning, how long is your involvement going to last?”

“Not too long—”

“What’s the process? You determine the cause of death, then release the body?”

“Basic—”

“And if the death was natural, there’s no problem?”

“None—”

“But if the death was caused by suicide, then what?”

“The coroner issues the death certificate based on his findings—”

“And then you release the body for burial?”

“Yes.”

Venus rubbed her eyes. “So why are the police involved? Why do you care if he killed himself or not?”

Marge hesitated. “Jupiter’s demise may be ruled a suspicious death, Venus.”

She raised her hand to her mouth. “You think … that someone could … that’s impossible!”

Marge said, “We have to rule out murder. Once we’ve done that, we’re out of here.”

“No one here would have killed Father Jupiter. Everyone loved him.”

Marge nodded. “You know, his daughter called in the death—”

“His daughter? Europa?” Venus raised her eyebrows. “Well, maybe not everyone loved him.”

Marge wrote frantically. “What can you tell me about her?”

Venus hesitated before she spoke. “I don’t think I should talk about her.”

“Why not?”

“Because if you are investigating a murder, I don’t want to be the one who … never mind. I’ve said enough.”

“I take it Europa’s not your best friend?”

“She rejected her father. That hurt him very much. Of course, I have feelings about her. But I don’t see how she could have had anything to do with his death. She hadn’t seen her father in fifteen years.”