Murder on Euripides Read online

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Epilogue

  About The Author

  Acknowledgments

  A CALL FOR HELP

  Other Books From Scott

  FREE BOOK!

  Notes

  by Scott A. Combs

  This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright ©2016 Scott A. Combs

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN: 1517003962

  ISBN-13: 978-1517003968

  Cover by the author.

  For Nick & Tegan

  Chapter 1

  Opening Gambit

  “OH, MY,” WHISPERED NOBLEFLIM GLOUNCE, discreetly pointing his champagne flute toward the Terran entering the delegation mixer. “Isn’t that Sir Giles Thackery—the famous detective from the Terran System?”

  The Podil twisted an eyestalk in the direction Glounce indicated and blinked heavily to focus on the man meandering through the crowded reception hall.

  “I do believe you’re right, Glounce,” said Ambassador Pi. He twisted his other eyestalk to get a better look. “No doubt about it. That’s Sir Giles Thackery. I would recognize him anywhere from the shows I watch on the Galactic Channel. There’s been a special this month spotlighting his most famous cases. I especially enjoyed the Mysterious Case of the Tuluvian Rat. His powers of deduction are not rivaled throughout the entire Galactic Guild.”

  Glounce delicately sipped more champagne through his ingestion tube. “They say Sir Giles stays in a cryo-sleep for decades at a time until he’s needed to solve some of the most ghastly crimes for his beloved Terra. Now he must be taking his talents out into the galaxy.”

  Pi blinked nervously. “Do you think there’s been a murder?”

  “What other reason would bring the illustrious detective out of his slumber?”

  “Maybe he’s vacationing?” questioned Pi. “It’s been at least fifty Terran years since his last case. He must have lots of vacation time built up that he’d have to use it or lose it.”

  “Don’t be such a fool, Pi.” Glounce slurped the last of his champagne. A waiter, smartly dressed with gleaming white gloves, held out a tray of fresh champagne flutes to Glounce, who daintily replaced his empty glass and suctioned up another with his tentacled appendage. “The man is known throughout the galaxy for solving crimes. Not for vacationing. His whole life is one long trail of death and dismemberment. Don’t you remember his involvement in the Tuluvian Disaster of ’08? It’s sad that the Galactic Guild didn’t take his advice. Millions would’ve been saved. Or the Strange Case of the Bovinulus Cattle Mutilations. Or best of all, The Last of the Molluskians incident where that madman Gorton shelled all those poor crustaceans. Oh—and who could forget how he single-handedly captured and apprehended Similina the Hairy in The Murders on Mortician Street.”

  “But—” Pi stammered.

  “I’ll wager you a U238 pellet1 the man’s here on a murder case,” interrupted Glounce. “Oh, to think we’re in the middle of history unfolding right before our very eyes!” His tentacles blushed a demure lavender.

  “I’ll take that wager,” began Pi, “under the condition that anything less than murder constitutes me winning the bet.”

  “You’re on, Pi,” said Glounce, waggling a tentacle to attract the Euripides’ purser to come over to them.

  The purser marched over in a rigid military gait. “Yes, Noblebeings?” He gave a slight bow. “How can I be of assistance to you this fine night?”

  “It’s Smythe, isn’t it?” asked Glounce.

  “Yes, your Nobleflim.”

  “Smythe, Pi and I have a small wager—”

  Pi interrupted, “A trifling really.”

  “Shut up, Pi,” griped Glounce. “The man doesn’t care if it’s a trifling or not. All that matters is that we need an uninvolved third party to mediate for us.”

  Pi harrumphed, his take on the rebuke reflected in his receding eyestalks.

  “Smythe, we want you to hold our stakes until our wager has been settled.”

  Smythe nodded. “I understand and I accept this great honor of being your arbitrator.”

  “Here’s mine,” said Glounce, producing a small lead-lined vial filled with U238 pellets—a small fortune in any system—and poured one pellet into Smythe’s hand.

  Pi produced a similar vial and plucked one pellet out, placing it next to the other. Smythe produced a jeweler’s loupe and inspected the two pellets.

  “May I verify their authenticity for purity and value?” asked Smythe.

  “Certainly,” said Glounce. “One must be prudent in such matters. Don’t you agree Pi?”

  Pi fidgeted. Glounce nudged his friend with a slimy tentacle. “Um—yes. I suppose.”

  Smythe held a curious device that looked like a miniature Geiger counter. He separated Glounce’s pellet from Pi’s and measured the radioactivity. “Undiluted solar standard U238. Ninety-nine point nine percent pure. The very best quality.” Glounce nodded approvingly.

  Then Smythe ran the device over Pi’s pellet. The little needle only indicated half way on the scale. “Ambassador Pi! You wouldn’t be trying to shortchange the wager would you? This is substandard currency.”

  “It is?” asked Pi.

  “It is?” asked Glounce.

  “It is,” assured Smythe. “You didn’t exchange through the Don Jowes Market to obtain this pellet?”

  “No,” he admitted. “I used the SANQAD.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” said Smythe. “The SANQAD has lower standards. You’ll be needing to add an additional pellet to make up for the difference.”

  Pi reluctantly produced his vial and held it up to one of his eyestalks. There was only one pellet left. He shook the container listening to his meager funds rattling around. Finally he unscrewed the cap letting the remaining U238 pellet fall into Smythe’s palm.

  Smythe checked the value again and was satisfied that the wager was equal. He then pulled a handkerchief from his breast pocket, neatly wrapping the valuable pellets. A moment later Smythe had the handkerchief folded and back in his pocket.

  “May I inquire what the wager is about, Noblebeings?” asked Smythe. “It must be quite a dispute if each of you are willing to part with so much currency to prove the other wrong.”

  Pi explained the wager with Glounce correcting the story with elaborate details. Smythe stood patiently as the two bantered back and forth on their hypothesis as to why the famous Sir Giles Thackery was on board.

  “So now you know,” finished Glounce, “the full extent of our dispute. Can you tell us if there’s been a murder on board the Euripides?”

  “I can’t say,” said Smythe.

  “Can’t or won’t?” asked Pi.

  “It’s not my place to divulge such information,” replied Smythe. “I suggest you ask Sir Giles yourselves why he is on board.”

  “I believe we’ll do that very thing!” said Glounce, peeved, slithering away from the purser with Pi trailing behind.

  * * *

  DIGNITARIES FROM ALL PARTS of the galaxy crowded around the Terran celebrity. Glounce made a big show of power and status as he gently nudged some of the slighter-built aliens out of his way. More than once, the Flimian uttered a loud and thoroughl
y fake apology as he pushed through the crowd. When he reached the front of the crowd gathered around Sir Giles, he was confronted by a lithe female figure with auburn hair and stunning hazel-colored eyes. She intercepted Glounce who towered a good two meters above her and out-weighed her by more than ten times. The Flimian noble tried to sidestep the woman only to be stopped again by her inordinately quick movements. He tried again to skirt around the Terran female obstacle.

  “Madam,” glowered Glounce. “May I please get around you?”

  Her voice came back icily. “No, you may not.”

  Glounce snorted. “My friend Pi and I,” he said, pointing to the trailing Podil, “wish to have a word with Sir Giles, if you please.”

  “I do not please,” she said, placing her hands on her hips. “I protect Sir Giles’ personal space.”

  “And just who are you,” Glounce boomed, “to hinder the Ambassador from Flim?”

  Sir Giles, hearing the dispute, turned to the young woman and the Flimian. “She is my great—to the eighteenth generation—granddaughter, elite SLASP2 Agent, Nanette Thackery.” Sir Giles stood with an arm around her shoulder. “What seems to be the problem, Noblebeings? I wouldn’t want to upset your personages by having her show you just how capable she is at protecting me from casual admirers.”

  “Grandfather,” Nanette protested, flexing her wrists to loosen her joints and muscles; readying herself for a confrontation. “You need not bother with the likes of these two rapscallions.”

  “It’s okay, child. I believe these two ambassadors just wish to ask a few questions. Is that right?”

  Glounce was assessing Sir Giles who stood tall with a slender build, looking to be a man in his late forties, hair streaked grey, with a matching, closely trimmed goatee and a sweeping, impressive mustache.

  “Are you Sir Giles Thackery, the famous detective from Terra?” asked Glounce.

  “Indeed I am,” he replied with a barely perceptible bowing movement.

  “We’ve heard of your career,” commented Pi. “Is it true that you began solving crimes in the twenty-first century?”

  “Yes, I did. I’ve been cryo-packed for most of my later life, only to be revived and rejuvenated to continue my service for my planet.”

  “Can you tell us how old you are exactly?” asked another inquisitive dignitary in the crowd.

  “That’s hard to gauge,” he pondered. “In actual years since my birth, I’m four hundred and eighty-three Terran years. But I can truthfully say much of that time I spent in the freezer. If I had to reckon my lived age, I’d say I was one hundred and thirty-five, give or take a decade.”

  “Amazing,” said Glounce. “Pray thee, tell us how you maintain such youthfulness for a man of your years?”

  “The secret’s in the special sauce,” he said, laughing. “Really, I haven’t the technical skill to broach the science that the geneticists deploy on my humble body. They pump me full of various things that I have no understanding of along with fortified nutrients and lots of strenuous exercise.”

  Glounce couldn’t help but like this Terran with a sharp wit, impeccable manners and twinkling eyes. “Can you indulge us by explaining why you are traveling on the Euripides?”

  “Hmm,” Sir Giles murmured, stroking his beard in contemplation. A trait he often performed when pragmatically weighing his thoughts. “I gather that is why so many of you are standing around doting on my every word? It’s understandable that my presence would spark curiosity. Does that seem to be the consensus?”

  The crowd unanimously agreed in all manner of affirmations. Some bleated, some squeaked, but all were enthusiastically blurting out questions.

  When he got them calmed slightly, he said, “Murder most foul. And . . . many impending murders brought me to be with you today.”

  The crowd erupted in a cacophony of discussions. Smythe tapped Glounce on his shoulder. Glounce saw that Smythe was extending an open palm with his winnings. He smiled, funneling the pellets into a small vial, much to Pi’s disappointment.

  “Better luck next time, Ambassador Pi,” said Smythe.

  Pi’s eyestalks drooped, his blue color turned bluer. Glounce could tell his littler friend was hurt and ashamed. A slippery tentacle snuck around the Podil and lifted Pi’s empty U238 vial. Discreetly, Glounce returned Pi’s losings and even added one of his own U238 pellets. An exorbitant kindly gesture on his part.

  Pi turned to his friend. “I guess I’m going to have to cancel our game of cards for tonight since you won all of my money already.”

  “Really?” pouted Glounce. “Are you sure you’re flat broke? I wouldn’t want to miss our nightly fun. Check again. I thought I saw some more pellets in your ampoule.”

  “No, I’m absolutely positive that I used the last on our little wager.”

  Glounce raised an eyebrow and grinned.

  The crowd around Sir Giles had continued barraging him with questions. Sir Giles raised his hands up to quell the crowd. After many attempts they quieted. “I will explain all I can after I’ve settled in. Tomorrow, I will address all you dear delegates before Parliament.”

  The crowd groaned in disappointment. Sir Giles and Nanette excused themselves from the mixer with a number of ambassadors in tow.

  Glounce hugged Pi by the shoulder. “Looks like we’re going to have to wait for the good detective to tell us more about his affairs.” Glounce’s tentacle intentionally squeezed the Podil’s pocket to force the U238 container nearly out. Pi swatted the tentacle and caught the vial, spying not only his last two pellets there but also another.

  Pi smiled. “Still want to play cards tonight? Double or nothing?”

  “You’re on old friend,” said Glounce. “I wouldn’t miss it for the universe. Sometime after we have dinner and a good stiff drink.”

  Pi nodded.

  Glounce pointed towards the aft exit. “Don’t forget to bring those Cubblonian cigars I like so well.”

  * * *

  PURSER SMYTHE LED NANETTE AND SIR GILES to their quarters. He opened the master suite with adjoining bedrooms and laid the access key on a side table near the sofa; on the table was an immense floral arrangement. Spotting an errant rose bud, Smythe discreetly tucked the offending flower back into position before stepping aside to show the rooms.

  “There are separate bedrooms for each of you,” he waved towards each door. “The bath is oversized and opens to both rooms. As you can see, there’s plenty of room to work in the conversation pit.”

  “Very nice,” said Sir Giles. “Is there a view? I do my best thinking when I can observe my surroundings.”

  “Of course.” Smythe raked his hand over an oval pad on the outer wall. The wall became transparent and showed the cosmos in all its glory. Off in the distance a fleet of warships encircled the Euripides. “If you wish, you can adjust for any size viewport you desire and adjust the opacity by the pad.” He demonstrated with his finger, swirling it around the outer edge of the oval pad to reduce or extend the viewport. Tapping it made the viewport frost over.

  “Excellent,” said Sir Giles.

  “There’s plenty of drinks in the bar and snacks are all complimentary. Of course, if you wish for anything not here, just call me on the comm and I’ll arrange for it to be delivered.”

  “Very nice,” said Sir Giles. Nanette wasn’t so easily impressed. She looked like a caged tiger ready to pounce. Sir Giles, on the other hand, was relaxed and satisfied. He picked an apple from a fruit bowl and buffed it to a shine on the breast of his jacket. Just before he took a bite, Nanette plucked it from his grasp and replaced it in the bowl.

  “No consumables without me inspecting them first. We don’t want you poisoned before you accomplish your mission.”

  Sir Giles cleared his throat. “Fine.”

  The porter arrived toting luggage; two large, well-used modern cases and a curious old-time leather bag that a doctor might have carried in bygone days.

  Nanette saw them and went to the porter as did Smy
the. “I’ll take those,” she said.

  “They look heavy.” Smythe bent to handle the case that looked the heaviest. “May I assist you?”

  She scoffed and reached for all three at once. Inadvertently, she covered Smythe’s hand in her smaller feminine one as she groped for the case. That momentary connection buzzed through her like she was stunned by a las-pistol. Apparently, Smythe felt the same tingling sensation because he flinched. Their lips nearly brushed together since they were bending with heads close together over the case. Time was suspended. They were sucked into a state of euphoria, totally dumbfounded; gazing into each other’s eyes.

  The moment passed and Nanette wrenched the bags away from him.

  Smythe regained his composure. “Will there be anything else, Sir Giles, Miss Thackery?” Smythe said formally.

  Nanette brushed past him on her way to securing the suite. In passing she said, “Is there any other way into this suite?”

  “None, Miss Thackery.”

  She poked her head around the corner. “Call me Nanette, please.”

  “Yes, Miss Nanette.”

  “Just Nanette,” she clarified.

  He nodded.

  “What about unwanted surveillance?” she asked. “Did you take the precautions I advised?”

  Smythe nodded. “We swept the rooms before you arrived, like you requested. No indications of any impropriety was found. Our crack security team followed all the procedures you requested.”

  “Good,” said Nanette, coming out of Sir Giles’ room holding a small black object. “Then how did you miss this?”

  Sir Giles and Smythe looked down at the palm of her hand.

  “A dead insect?” Smythe questioned.

  “Not just a dead insect,” she said. “A highly camouflaged listening device attached to a dead insect.”

  “Really?” said Sir Giles. “Looks to be a common Sphaerius Acaroides variety of beetle.”

  Nanette turned the thing over for a closer view of the underside. “This one has been implanted with electronics, Grandfather.”

  “Let me see,” he said. “Smythe, I noticed you had a jeweler’s loupe at the mixer. Do you mind me borrowing it for a moment?”