Chapter 19

SHE WHO HELPS ONE CLIMB OUT

“Are you aware your name is all over the Internet?” Webb seethed as they walked toward his office.

“As a suspected psychopathic killer,” Theo replied calmly. “Actually, I’d managed to forget for a moment, but thanks so much for reminding me.”

Webb opened the door to his office and gestured Theo through.

Oh, good. Witnesses to my torment. Fritz Mossburg lounged in one of the leather armchairs, a glass of dark liquor held loosely in one hand, his piercing blue eyes moist. Theo could smell the alcohol from across the room. Too sweet, almost rotten. Mossburg jumped from his chair and embraced Theo, muttering horror-stricken platitudes all the while. He specialized in Greek theater and was known around campus for his Anderson Cooper good looks. When the other professors had begun to snub Theo after the eminent domain dispute, Mossburg had remained cordial. “God, Theo, what a disaster. And now you’ve been hauled in by the cops. What a day.”

“The police station left a bit to be desired as a Saturday brunch destination,” Theo concurred.

In the other armchair, Martin Andersen frowned over his own glass. “I don’t know how you can joke about this,” he chided. The older man’s grief for his dead wife lent an air of melancholy to everything he did, and yesterday’s tragedy had left him more dour than usual. Over the years, Theo had taken Martin out to dinner a few times, but his altruism quickly dissolved in the face of the older man’s nearly pathological lack of personality. Martin had continued to pursue the friendship with the doggedness of an antibiotic-resistant infection, offering to loan Theo esoteric volumes of Latin oratory, borrowing his dress shoes for a faculty club event, inviting him to dinners and plays, cornering him in the hallways to lecture him about the latest trends in Latin grammar. Theo tried to avoid him as politely as possible, and Martin had finally gotten the hint. He hadn’t called Theo in months. Now, Theo wished he’d been nicer. He had a feeling he was going to need an ally.

Bill Webb cleared his throat. “Gentlemen, give me a moment with Dr. Schultz.”

Andersen downed the last of his drink and left the room without saying more. Mossburg offered Theo a condolatory smile then followed him out.

Webb settled into the leather chair behind his wide desk. He looks pretty good, Theo noted. Maybe Webb had finished his chemotherapy treatments.

“Look, Schultz, I asked the senior faculty here, even though it’s a weekend, to try to sort out the best way to help the department deal with Helen’s passing.” Theo wasn’t sure when he’d been suddenly excluded from the “senior faculty,” but he held his tongue. “Obviously, you’ve been having an especially difficult time. But I’m afraid it’s become equally clear that your actions since Helen’s devastating loss have been less than professional.”

“I’m not sure what you’re referring to,” Theo said with careful nonchalance.

“Understandable, since there are so many possibilities. Where to begin? You’ve obstructed the murder investigation, gotten taken into police custody, and—let me see if I remember what the detective said—proposed an absurd theory about Helen’s participation in a latter-day Mystery Cult.”

“It’s not absurd.”

“It casts this university, and Helen, in a very poor light. What would her parents say?”

“You spoke to Brandman?” said Theo, ignoring Webb’s last comment. Helen’s parents had died when she was in college, although clearly the chair never cared enough about her to learn that. “Are you the one who told him about my relationship with Helen?”

Webb thrust out his chin. “What I did or did not say to the police is no concern of yours.”

“And the sordid details of my love life aren’t yours.”

“Anything to do with this department is my concern. I have a responsibility to uphold our reputation. Your actions have cast serious doubt on your judgment. We think it would be best if you take a leave of absence until this all blows over.”

The words stung less than he’d expected. The humiliation paled in comparison to the murder case at hand. Still, he wasn’t going to go down without a protest. “What kind of scholar jumps to such shoddy conclusions? Even my students know better than to be swayed by scurrilous online rumors.”

A smile floated across Webb’s lips, so brief Theo thought he’d imagined it. That bastard, he realized, he’s been looking for an excuse to fire me and I just played right into his hands. He’s enjoying this.

“Oh yes, we all know about your ‘special relationship’ with the students and the community.” Webb made it sound as if Theo’d been sleeping with them rather than engaging in civil disobedience. “But it’s the parents, not the students, I’m worried about. We’ve been fielding angry calls all afternoon.” As if on cue, a phone rang down the hall at the reception desk. Theo could hear Violet answering the call, then speaking in soothing tones. He could only imagine the voice on the other end—How dare you let an accused murderer teach my son! What kind of institution are you running? “They’re the ones whose checks keep this institution afloat,” Webb went on. “And unlike you, some of us care about the future of the university. I might have let your misjudgments slide, but now half the city thinks you were involved in Helen’s murder.”

“Do you think I killed that little girl in the hospital, too?” Theo snapped.

“Of course not. But we can’t help the Internet rumors, can we?” This time, Webb’s smile was hard to misinterpret.

“What about my classes?”

“Nate Balinski already took over this morning’s seminar on translating ancient textual fragments. And once Everett is back on his feet, he’s perfectly capable of teaching Intro to Myth by himself.” Webb picked up a piece of paper from his desk. Theo recognized it as the syllabus for his course. “I see you’re spending the next unit comparing mythic heroes to comic book characters.” He gave Theo a pursed, condescending smirk. “I’m sure Everett will be up to the challenge.”

I shouldn’t have eaten that pork dumpling, Theo realized. Because I might just puke it right up again. “Thank you, Bill,” he said lightly. “You’ve been surprisingly helpful—now I’ll have plenty of time to focus on the investigation.” He stood up. “I’ll let you get back to deciding how to destroy my career. It’s an unusual way to honor Helen’s memory, but I know everyone grieves differently.”

As he headed back down the hall, Theo met Everett standing by the water cooler, a sheaf of papers under his arm.

“Everett, what’re you doing here? I thought I told you to stay home as long as you needed.”

“I was going crazy in my apartment. I just needed to be doing something, anything. And Bill asked the senior faculty…” he began, then dropped his gaze. As an assistant professor, Everett had never been considered “senior” anything. But it seemed that with Theo’s fall from grace, Everett had received an unofficial promotion.

“Don’t worry about it,” said Theo.

“I am worried,” Everett insisted. “I’ve been hearing all sorts of crazy things.”

“I had nothing to do with Helen’s murder.” Theo felt ridiculous even needing to say it.

“Of course not.” Everett blanched. “But this Mystery Cult theory Bill said you’re floating… it’s just nuts, Theo.”

“Speaking of which, do you know where Helen would have kept the draft of her book?”

“She kept it on her laptop, but the cops said it’s missing from her apartment. Look, I know how much you cared about Helen. But—”

Everett’s knowing tone made Theo’s cheeks grow hot. “She was a friend, that’s all.” He fought down a rising wave of guilt that threatened to have him blurting out the truth. Don’t be an asshole. Everett can never know about that night with Helen.

“Of course. I just think your emotions are clouding your judgment. God knows they’ve been clouding mine. But I know we’ve got the best police force in the country. I think we should let them do their job.”

Theo didn’t want to fight with Everett. But nor did he have any intention of giving up his search. “What’s that?” he asked, eyeing the pile of papers in Everett’s arms.

“I was just picking up Helen’s mail. I thought maybe there was something I could give to her siblings. The cops took everything out of her apartment yesterday.” Theo immediately regretted not going through Helen’s in-box himself. Who knew what clues he could find?

“It’s all just memos and junk mail, though,” Everett went on. He shrugged helplessly. “Already, there’s so little of her left.” He slid the papers into the recycling bin, his eyes gleaming wetly.

“I’m sorry.” Theo said. For your loss. For my betrayal.

“Me, too. And I’m sorry you’ve gotten all mixed up with this.”

The genuine sympathy on Everett’s face suddenly made Theo want to enlist his help. Everett was a fine scholar with as much reason as Theo—more, even—to bring Helen’s killer to justice. And it wouldn’t hurt if Webb’s new favorite put in a good word for him at the next faculty meeting. Don’t be ridiculous, he chided himself sternly. Everett doesn’t make decisions for Webb or anyone else. He’s got enough to deal with without shouldering my problems, too. And you don’t deserve his help. Not after what you did.

Together, they walked down the hall toward Theo’s office. His door was closed. As they approached, Everett turned to Theo in surprise, as if he’d heard something. “You have a visitor?”

“I did.” He patted Everett on the back, aware once more of how the younger man’s well-muscled shoulders compared to his own narrow frame. “Let’s hope I still do.” Theo hesitated outside the door. Somehow, he didn’t feel up to introducing Everett to Selene. Everett took the hint and left by the back stairs.

I bet she’s not even in there, Theo thought as he stood outside his office. Probably already left, unwilling to wait for a disgraced former professor.

Theo steeled himself for disappointment and opened the door.

Selene winced when she heard the door open behind her. She’d hoped to disappear before Theo got back. Instead, she was balancing precariously on his rolling chair beneath a gaping hole in the ceiling, a ventilation grate in one hand and a Swiss Army knife in the other. Theo closed the door quickly.

“Something tells me you’re not just fixing my air-conditioning.”

She stepped down off the chair and laid the grate on the floor, taking a moment to decide what to say. She was half tempted to retort, I’m bad news, remember? Listen to your own advice and just leave me alone. Instead, she asked, “What did your boss say?”

“Just that he wants me to take a leave. Probably lose my tenure position, not to mention all chance of ever being hired by another university. Not in so many words, of course, but that was the gist. But you never answered my question. Why are you taking apart my office? And,” he continued with a small smile, “if it’s going to help us find our killer cult, can I help?”

Selene stared at him for a second. She couldn’t help admiring his fortitude. After losing their jobs, most mortals she’d met would be completely incapacitated by humiliation. Shouldn’t he be weeping somewhere? Or getting drunk? Instead, he seemed determined to press on. So either he was surprisingly stalwart or naively optimistic. Or despite the notecard, she considered reluctantly, he just wants to spend time with me. She wasn’t sure if she found the thought terrifying or encouraging.

“Well, if you must know, I’m breaking into Helen’s office.”

“We’re going to crawl through the air ducts? We can actually do that?”

“There’s no we here. I’m going to crawl through. Her office is just down the hall, so all the vents should connect. The police put a tamper-proof seal on the door. If I break it, they’ll know. But there’s no way I’m leaving this building without checking for her research notes.”

He frowned for a second, as if considering the step he was about to take. Then he nodded. “I’m in.”

“No, you’re not. You should stay here with Hippo.”

“You know an awful lot about mythology for a PI, but you won’t be able to decipher Helen’s notes. Unless you’re going to tell me you happen to read Ancient Greek?” He flashed her a smile.

Selene bit back a retort. No way she could answer that question. “You’re going to leave prints all over the place,” she said instead.

He dug into the pocket of his overcoat and pulled out a pair of knit gloves with a flourish. “Fine,” she said with a resigned sigh. “But you have to do exactly what I tell you.”

“Of course.” He nodded somberly, but she couldn’t help noticing the glint in his eye. For a man who didn’t get out of the library much, he was clearly enjoying the adventure.

She raised a skeptical brow, then dug in her backpack for a moment and pulled out a flashlight. She’d be able to see in the dark, but Theo wouldn’t.

“You certainly come prepared,” he said. “What else do you have in there?”

“You don’t want to know,” she said, zipping it closed before he could catch the glimmer of her disassembled bow. She hopped lightly back up onto the rolling chair. “Who’s in the offices between here and Helen’s?”

“It’s all associates and adjuncts, but none on of them are here on a Saturday.”

“Good.” She handed him the flashlight. “But you’ll still have to be quiet. Any sound will carry into every office with a vent on the same shaft.”

Selene grabbed hold of the vent’s edge, flipped upside down, then launched herself, feet first, into the airshaft. A moment later, Theo’s head appeared. She wriggled backward out of the way as he attempted to lever himself inside with his elbows. He managed to get his torso in, then turned to look at her with a mixture of humiliation and hilarity. “I’m stuck,” he mouthed. Selene rolled her eyes, but grabbed his elbow and hauled. An unfortunate clanking ensued, but eventually the professor lay securely inside the duct.

Theo’s face was too close again, his pupils huge in the dim light. For a moment, she studied him with her newly improved night vision, knowing that he couldn’t return the scrutiny. His narrow lips were parted slightly. A lock of fair hair stuck behind his glasses, poking at his eyes. He brushed it aside, looking surprisingly vulnerable. Then he turned on the flashlight, blinding her. She winced and spun around, more comfortable with her feet in his face. With a whispered “Follow me,” she began shimmying down the shaft.

Astoundingly, they made it to Helen’s office without mishap. Selene’s multi-tool easily opened the vent cover. She lowered herself through the hole and dropped the few feet to the ground, landing soundlessly. The professor followed, his legs swaying as his feet searched for purchase. She rolled a chair underneath him, but his shoe caught on the back, wrenching the chair from her hands, then spinning it toward her and knocking her backward. Before she could rise, the professor tumbled on top of her, his flashlight rolling free.

They lay tangled together for a moment in the dark, his chest smothering her face, his knee between her legs. Selene bit her lip to keep from loudly demanding that he immediately remove his hand from her ribs. Her shirt had ridden up in the fall, and his gloved fingertips were warm against her skin.

With her nose pressed to his sternum, the smell of his sweat overwhelmed her. A mix of exertion and excitement, with just a hint of fear. She expected to be repulsed. Strangely, she wasn’t. Then he was rolling off her with a whispered apology.

“Next time I’m trying to help you, just let me,” she hissed.

“Only if you let me do the same.” He held out a hand to help her up. She ignored the gesture and got to her feet unaided.

Theo retrieved the flashlight and panned it across the shelves lining the walls of the small office. “Looks like the cops already took a lot,” he whispered, opening the drawers of Helen’s desk. Selene nodded absently, standing in the middle of the room. Turning in a slow circle, she scanned the photos adorning the walls in tastefully asymmetrical arrangements. A fresco painting of the Minoan snake goddess. The Egyptian temple of Isis at Philae. Another of the ruined temples of the Vestal Virgins in the Roman Forum.

“Interesting collection.” She pointed at the walls.

He glanced up and frowned. “Those are new. Last time I was in here—months ago, probably—she had the usual archeologist’s collection of maps and museum prints.” He opened a file cabinet. “No sign of her laptop.” He gestured to the empty drawer. “And I don’t see any of her research related to the Mysteries either.”

Selene turned to another tall file cabinet near the door, sure it, too, would be empty. To her surprise, it was sealed with a combination padlock. The cops probably planned on coming back with a bolt cutter. But in the meantime…

Selene tugged at the lock, feeling the metal cabinet bend a little in her hands, but even with her increased strength, the lock itself didn’t give. Theo moved to stand beside her.

“Helen liked to do everything the hard way. Handwritten notes, hidden compartments, secret ciphers—I sometimes think maybe she was a CIA agent posing as an archeologist. But, you know, that would imply the government gave a crap about Greco-Roman society, so unlikely.” He shone his flashlight onto the padlock.

“The combination’s only three digits,” Selene said. “We should be able to figure it out.”

Theo shook his head. “Three digits means a thousand possibilities.”

“Well, try something.”

He attempted Helen’s birthday. Then the first three digits of her phone number. Then the last three. Then he stepped back from the cabinet and folded his arms, staring at it.

“Are you trying to glare it into submission?” Selene asked.

Theo pushed his glasses a little farther up his nose. “That’s more your style. I’m thinking.”

“Try doing it a little faster. We need to get the tusk identified at Natural History before it—”

“I’ve got it.” He grinned and gestured to the calendar on Helen’s wall. The dates were written not in Arabic numerals, but in Greek characters. “Helen hated math. She once told me that one of her favorite things about studying Ancient Greek was spending a day without seeing modern numerals. She liked that the Greeks used letters for their numbers. Alpha is one, beta is two, and so on. Her lucky number was 98, the sum of the number values of the letters in the Greek translation of her name. So if we take her favorite Greek three-letter words, then turn the letters into their number equivalents, we’ll have a possible combination.”

“Sounds just absurd enough to work.”

“Worth a shot.” He grabbed the padlock. Then he just stood there.

“What are you waiting for?”

Theo cleared his throat. “There are actually very few Greek words with only three letters.”

“What about ‘Theo’?” Selene suggested impatiently. “That’s Greek, right? The ‘t-h’ is one letter, so that’s three letters total.”

“I know, awfully fitting for a classicist, right? ‘Theodoros,’ meaning ‘gift of the gods.’ I try not to let it go to my head. But I don’t think it’s our combination. The ‘o’ in Theo is an omicron, which corresponds to seventy. Too many digits, but if we add them together…” He did some quick mental math. “No good. It’s nine, five, seventy, so that’s only eighty-four. Not enough digits. It would be a little weird of her to use my name anyway. Maybe not Theo, but ‘theos,’ meaning ‘God.’ Add it up, you get… two hundred and seventy-nine.” He spun the combination lock. “Nope. Damn. We probably need a word that uses only alpha through theta, so it corresponds to our nine modern digits.”

Selene stared at the lock for a moment, then around the room, searching for inspiration. Theo just stared blankly at the ceiling, his lips moving silently. Then, at the same moment, they both turned to the photos of the temples.

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” he asked. “Not ‘Theos.’ Thea.”

Selene nodded. “What better password than Goddess?”

“Theta, epsilon, alpha. Nine-five-one.” The lock sprang open in Theo’s hands. He gave a quiet whoop. “I’m not saying we are geniuses, but I am saying it’s damn possible.”

He opened the drawer and shone his flashlight inside. Selene peered over his shoulder.

“A lararium. A Roman shrine to the lares—their household gods,” he murmured, awestruck. Beneath a cardboard roof stood four small clay figurines, a shallow dish of wine, and a pile of burnt incense sticks. “Usually, the lares were unnamed protective spirits—local gods of the hearth or the crossroads—or sometimes personal ancestors. But that’s definitely Persephone,” he said, focusing the light on the statue holding a clay pomegranate. “Or I guess, since this a Roman shrine, I should say Proserpina.” He swung to the next figurine, this one bearing a wooden arrow made from a toothpick.

“Artemis. Diana,” Selene said, the names heavy on her tongue.

The third idol had no symbolic accoutrements and barely the suggestion of a face, just full, pendulous breasts and a round belly. “That one doesn’t look Greek or Roman at all,” Theo whispered. “More like a primitive Earth Mother goddess.” The last figure, clearly male, carried only an unadorned toothpick. “And that one could be anything. But probably Asclepius with his staff. Then again, it could be a sword.”

Selene glanced up at the photos on the wall once more. “This whole place is a shrine,” she said. “Your friend Helen didn’t just study the gods, she worshiped them.”

The night of her death, Helen must have invoked Artemis in her moment of need. The magnitude of her faith had awakened senses long dormant, allowing Selene to receive the vision of the woman’s last moments. That explained why touching Sammi Mehra’s corpse had no effect—whatever god or gods the girl had worshiped, they weren’t Greek. But Helen prayed to me, Selene realized with a heavy heart. I felt a tingling, a summons, as I left Jackie Ortiz’s apartment the night Helen was killed—and I didn’t even realize what it was. Now, when it was too late, she could almost hear the woman’s prayer, offered up as she lay bound and gagged at the river’s edge, a man poised above her with a needle glinting in the light of a single lamppost:

Artemis, Protector of Women, aim your arrow true.

Find him, Huntress, show no mercy.

Pierce him through the heart like a stag on the run.

Selene shuddered, thinking of how Helen’s last breath must have reached for Olympus and found it empty. The unanswered prayer would fall from heaven to earth. There, it would slide past the city’s spires, sigh along the canyon streets, and rush down the back alleys into dark and hidden places, to finally whisper in the ear of a goddess who could no longer hear. The one supplicant I have left, and I came too late to save her, she admitted. Maybe it’s Helen’s faith, not my mother’s decline, that has brought back my powers.

As he looked from the figures in the lararium to the photos on the wall, Theo’s face paled. “I always talk about how we’ve lost something by embracing literal-minded monotheism, but I never dreamed she’d go this far. What did she get herself into? And who—”

The distant sound of Hippo’s urgent barking interrupted him.

“What’s she—” he began, but Selene cut him off by laying a finger on his lips. They were dry and soft to the touch. He looked astonished, but a second or two later, his eyes darted to the door as footsteps entered his hearing range. They stood, frozen, as the footsteps stopped. Hippo’s muffled barking continued from down the hall in Theo’s office. Selene could almost feel the presence of a man on the other side of the door. She sniffed the air, but smelled only Theo, scared and excited, beside her. Removing her finger from his lips, she padded silently to the door, leaning her cheek against the wood.

Is it the cops? Theo mouthed.

She shook her head. Too quiet. Too still. Someone staring at the tamper-proof seal on the door, wishing he could get in. Someone whose scent Hippo recognized.

The instant the footsteps moved away, she took a flying leap onto the desk chair, then launched herself into the ductwork with barely a clatter. Moments later, she’d come out the other end into Theo’s office and thrown open his door so Hippo could bound through. Selene followed the sprinting dog to one end of the hallway, where the hound stood, pacing uncertainly, her nose lifted. She sniffed the ground for a few seconds, then took off in the opposite direction. Selene ran back down the hallway after her dog, past Theo’s office, then Helen’s. Hippo took a sharp turn into another room, then started barking maniacally. Selene halted, made sure she could easily reach the bow in her pack, then treaded cautiously into the room. A skinny old man in a three-piece suit huddled in the corner of the office kitchen, clutching a ham sandwich to his chest.

“Stay back!” he shouted at the drooling dog crouching a foot away.

Selene groaned. “Sorry,” she said, pulling Hippo away. “She has a thing for pork.” She scolded the dog as she dragged her back down the hallway to Theo’s office and slammed the door behind them.

“What? What is it?” Theo panted as his head appeared above her in the vent.

“I thought Hippo’d caught our suspect’s scent, but she was more interested in some professor’s lunch. If it was the killer outside the door, he’s already gone. I was too slow.”

“Too slow? Are you kidding? I blinked and you were gone.” He swung his feet through the hole in the ceiling. “Are you some sort of gymnast?”

“I’m a lot of things.” She pushed the chair under Theo. This time, he dropped onto it without sending her sprawling.

“The way you ran, I was convinced something was about to attack us.”

“If something had been about to attack us,” she said dryly, “I wouldn’t have run.”

“That makes one of us.” He began gathering books and papers from his desk.

“Are you a coward?”

“Wow. Personal question. Only when facing a pile of midterms to grade. You should see the grammar these kids use. But if you’re talking about violence? I’ve never actually hit anyone. Wanted to, sure. But I don’t believe in putting myself or others in needless physical danger. I’ll leave that to stuntwomen like you.”

“We need to get going before Natural History closes. You have two minutes.” She hefted herself back into the airshaft and shimmied down the duct to Helen’s office to replace the grate in her ceiling. A minute later, she was back doing the same to Theo’s. He was still packing.

“I just need to grab a few things to take with me while I’m on… vacation,” he explained.

Selene maintained her patience for nearly a minute, then found herself clenching and unclenching her fists, trying not to snap at him as he attempted to shove an entire library’s worth of material into a satchel.

“I’m just going to go,” she said finally, grabbing Hippo’s leash and turning toward the door.

“You can’t go without me.”

Selene spun back to the professor and took a step toward him. She was surprised to notice he was actually an inch or so taller than she. “We are not partners, remember?” She narrowed her eyes, but unlike most people she encountered, he neither backed down nor grew defensive, but only looked at her calmly.

“You’re going to just walk up to the museum and ask to speak to their paleodontist on a Saturday afternoon?” he asked. “Okay, I’m sure that’ll work.”

Selene frowned. “I’ll make them let me in.”

“Threats? Sure. Curators usually respond to threats.”

Selene snarled, grabbed the teetering pile of books off Theo’s desk, and stuffed them into her own large backpack.

“You don’t have to—that’s going to be really heavy!”

But she was already out the door, angry at Theo for slowing her down—but even angrier at herself for her unwillingness to leave him behind.