Murder and Mahjong Read online

  Hera adjusted a loose pin in her hair. “I can see the grave situation right in front of me, thank you.”

  “No, it’s more than that,” the hot guy said, and explained the situation. Brave and unnaturally attractive. Score.

  Instead of screaming like Donna or expressing shock of any kind, Hera gave him the kind of withering glance that would’ve silenced my chatty Aunt Mae. “What do you have to say for yourself, human?”

  I worried my throat was too dry to speak. “Sorry about your husband.” I winced. “Sorry, I mean ex-husband.”

  Her expression soured. “As far as I’m concerned, Zeus got what he deserved.”

  I held up a finger. “I’d like to clarify that I didn’t give him anything, not so much as a handshake.”

  “You were seen on top of him, Miss Worthington,” Hera said. “Alone in a deserted place.”

  “In a very public place,” I countered. “In a hot dog suit. There is no penetrating that baby. The lining alone is like two inches thick.” I patted my clothes, realizing that I was now wearing the purple gym shorts and NYU T-shirt that I normally slept in. At least I’d worn clothes underneath the hot dog costume. It could be worse. I could be wearing spandex in front of a crowd. I’d aged out of spandex about five years ago, not by choice. If I still had the body, I would have happily continued to wear it, but the lumps and bumps became too distracting to me when I looked in the mirror. I looked like a whale with a barnacle addiction.

  “Fear not. Your armor is safe,” a man said from across the room. He wore full godly regalia complete with lunar crescent headgear. “We’ve sent it to be cleansed.”

  “Who’s that guy?” I whispered.

  “Aah,” Elf Boy said.

  “And? Ah, what?”

  “That’s his name. Aah. He’s an Egyptian god.”

  Oh, wow. Aah was clinging to his former life with every fiber of his clothing. No Hawaiian shirts for him.

  “Someone help Miss Worthington into a chair,” Hera ordered. “No need for her to remain on the floor like a rug.”

  Hot Guy and Elf Boy helped me to my feet and escorted me to a chair in the front row while Hera took her place behind a podium. She tapped the microphone. “Is this thing on?” Her voice reverberated.

  “Yes, Madam President,” Randolph said enthusiastically. Elf Boy was a champion hand raiser if I ever saw one.

  The rest of the crowd shuffled to seats in the rows behind me. Hera waited for the sound to die down before addressing me.

  “Tell me, Miss Worthington. How did you do it?” Hera asked.

  “Do what? Get here? I have no idea. I’m still wondering if I click my heels three times whether I’ll wake up.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “How did you manage to obliterate my ex-husband? Poisoned lipstick? A concealed weapon?”

  I really didn’t like having a goddess with a known temper look at me with that expression. The back of my neck warmed. “I honestly don’t think I did it.”

  Hera regarded me coolly. “You don’t have to lie to me about his last moments, Miss Worthington. Zeus and I have been apart for a long time now. We are both free to pursue other relationships.”

  I slapped my hands over my face. “I only just got here. What kind of seductress do you think I am? I haven’t been able to get a guy’s attention that fast since I was about twenty-five.”

  “Same, girl,” Helen-Mary said.

  Aah marched closer to the podium. “Forgive me, Madam President, but I think we need to examine how a measly human has ended up here. This makes no sense.”

  “Neither does your outfit, bud, yet here we both are.” I crossed my arms and glared at the Egyptian god.

  Aah clenched his fists. “I told you all along I was being unjustly punished.”

  I turned in time to see a dozen of eyes roll in unison.

  “Firstly, if you were being punished, you’d be in a different place. Secondly, what does this human’s appearance have to do with you?” Hera asked.

  Aah straightened his crescent headgear. “If the Powers-That-Be can make a mistake with her placement, then they can be mistaken about mine,” he replied.

  “Yes, yes. We know. You’re so much better than the rest of us,” Roger said. “You should be frolicking on a cloud with a basket of kittens instead of sweating on the golf course between a Yeti and a werewolf.”

  “I don’t even like kittens,” Aah said heatedly. “I only mean to point out that if one mistake can be made, so can others.”

  Hera shooed him back to his seat. “Right now I’m only concerned with the human in our midst who has allegedly obliterated my ex-husband.”

  “I like that you said allegedly.” I gave her a thumbs up. “Innocent until proven guilty, am I right?”

  “She could’ve crushed him when she fell from the sky,” Fangs McTavish said. “Brigit said that physics…”

  “I didn’t do it,” I insisted. “Not accidentally. Not on purpose. There’s no way I’m capable of crushing a god into oblivion. Trust me, I’m egotistical enough to want the credit.”

  Hera seemed to ponder my argument. “Humans are inherently weak and stupid.”

  “Hey,” I began, but, for once, decided it was best to keep my mouth shut.

  The Celtic goddess hurried to the front of the room and bowed her head slightly. “I’ve taken the liberty of examining the body,” Brigit said. “There’s no evidence that suggests he was crushed.”

  I practically jumped out of my seat. “See? I’m with Xena Warrior Healer over here. I don’t think that I could crush a god into oblivion no matter how many pancakes I ate for breakfast.”

  “Did you find evidence of foul play?” Hera asked.

  Brigit shook her head. “Nothing. No marks. No injuries. He seemed completely at peace.”

  “Could it be ascension or…descension?” someone in the crowd whispered.

  Hera’s head snapped up and she peered into the crowd. “Of course not. You know better than that. The bodies don’t linger. They simply disappear.”

  “Which means, if it wasn’t me, then someone here is responsible for what happened to him,” I said.

  Fangs McTavish gasped. “You think one of us murdered Zeus?”

  I gave him a serious dose of side-eye. “You seem pretty horrified for a guy that drinks blood for a living.” I twisted in my seat and surveyed the crowd. “Unless gods can be obliterated by natural causes, then it seems obvious that someone did it.”

  Voices erupted and Hera picked up a gavel and banged it on the podium. “That’s enough.” The room instantly quieted.

  “Here’s a crazy thought,” I said. “How about someone calls the police?” I felt a surge of pride for making such a reasonable suggestion in the middle of a crisis. There was a chance the police would decide that there was enough evidence to throw me in the slammer, but I was willing to take the risk. If this was a dream, I’d wake up before the death penalty—probably even before the trial because those were boring.

  “We don’t rely on law enforcement here,” Hera said.

  “Why not?” I asked.

  “Because it doesn’t exist,” Hera said.

  I balked. “Wait. You have a committee that regulates whether you can stick pink flamingos on your front lawn, but not to investigate if someone gets obliterated?”

  Hera gave an airy wave. “Priorities, Miss Worthington. We all have to look at your lawn. As it stands, the HOA is the only authoritative body in Divine Place and I am its president.”

  “Madam President, forgive the interruption, but I’d like to return to Aah’s point,” Fangs McTavish said. “Why is she here with us? Maybe her arrival is an omen.”

  “She’s a human, not a comet, Hamish,” Helen-Mary said.

  “A snake bit me,” I said. I jerked out my arm to show him the wound. “I’m dead, same as you.” My skin began to crawl as the idea of being truly dead seeped in.

  “No, not the same as me,” Hamish said. “You’re human. You should have gone
wherever they go.”

  “You mean like Heaven or Hell?”

  “Or purgatory, whatever the human version is of that,” Hamish said. “That’s what Divine Place is. Purgatory for supernaturals. That’s why you won’t see everyone here. Some have gone directly to other places.”

  I hugged myself, feeling uneasy. “Then I should be in human purgatory?” The realization hit me hard. I didn’t think my character had been that murky and questionable. I mean, I didn’t do a lot of charitable work and maybe I took donations more than I gave them, but I would’ve thought those infractions were minor enough to still get me a ticket through the pearly gates.

  “Hamish has a point,” Hera said. “Just because you didn’t crush him doesn’t mean you’re not responsible in some other way.”

  Hot Guy strode to the front of the room and stopped halfway between the podium and me. “What if the woman is right? What if one of us is responsible and we lay the blame at her feet because it’s convenient? Do we want a murderer to continue to live among us, undetected?”

  “I should’ve known you’d insert yourself,” Hera said, her face tight. “Hard to break old habits, isn’t it?”

  Hot Guy ignored her comment. “Personal feelings aside,” he said quietly, “we owe it to ourselves to find out the truth.”

  Hera stared at him for a long beat before shifting her focus to me. “Very well then. I hereby appoint you, Eloise Worthington, as the first official marshal of Divine Place and grant you full investigative powers.”

  My mouth opened wide enough to park my father’s Buick. “You what?”

  Excited whispers hissed around me.

  “You can prove your own innocence,” Hera said, “by finding the guilty party.”

  “That’s…that’s…” I rummaged through my brain for an objection. “Insane. I can’t investigate the murder of a god. I don’t even know how to change the oil in my car.” I always told my father or one of my brothers to do it.

  “You’ll have help.” Hera glanced back to Hot Guy. “You will serve as her deputy.”

  Could she force him to do that? He certainly didn’t look happy with the turn of events.

  He took another step forward and lowered his voice. “You can’t expect me to babysit a human while she stumbles her way through a murder investigation.”

  Hera smiled. “Can’t I?” She switched off the microphone. “You’re right. I can’t let my personal feelings interfere. We should know the truth of what happened. As she’s new here and lacks certain skills, she will require assistance.”

  He crossed his arms and I tried not to ogle his firm biceps. “And what happens if I refuse?”

  Hera pretended to examine her nails. “Then I suppose she’ll fail in her endeavor and we’ll be left to assume she’s the culprit.”

  I swallowed hard. “And what happens then?”

  Hera eyed me with a laser focus. “You, Miss Worthington, will be extinguished from all worlds. You, like my ex-husband, will cease to exist.”

  Hot Guy cast a wary glance in my direction. “Fine. I’ll do it.”

  Hera rested her hands lightly on the podium, as though the surface might burn the pads of her fingers. “I thought you’d come to your senses. Miss Worthington, you’ll need a place to live. Randolph, do we have anything available? Surely we’ve had someone leave us in the past month.”

  Randolph flipped through pages of a booklet. “Well, obviously there’s Zeus’s place.”

  “Absolutely not,” Hera snapped. “That’s in Zone 1. We have to adhere to standards.”

  Sheesh. Even in death there was a hierarchy.

  “With all due respect, I don’t think you should place her in Zone 2,” Randolph said. “You can’t stick a human in with vampires and werewolves and the like. That seems too dangerous.” He glanced around the room. “No offense.”

  Hamish snarled. “The only thing dangerous about me is my golf handicap.”

  My skin crawled as the seriousness of my predicament became clear. I wasn’t dreaming. I was dead—and in the wrong place. This was so much worse than the time I accidentally boarded a plane to Philadelphia, Mississippi instead of Philadelphia, Pennsylvania.

  “If I’m the only human here, am I going to be some kind of target?”

  “Randolph’s being overly cautious,” Hera said. “Vampires here are not prone to bloodlust. They’ve lost most of their earthly desires.”

  Most? All would’ve been more comforting.

  Randolph consulted the booklet. “Um, Madam President, 47 Hamilton is available.”

  Hera blew out an exasperated breath. “Fine, she can stay in Zone 1. It’s likely temporary anyway. I’m sure she’ll disappear soon enough since she clearly doesn’t belong here.”

  “Does that happen often?” I asked. “A glitch in the system?”

  “Never,” Randolph said, before Hera could answer. She fixed him with two glittering eyes and he promptly averted his gaze.

  “What happened to the owner of the house?” I asked.

  “She ascended,” Hera said.

  “Ascended?” I queried. That was the second time I’d heard that word today. I pictured a figure drifting upward into the clouds amidst angelic singing.

  “It isn’t important right now,” Hera said.

  I begged to differ, but I could tell that badgering the goddess would prove futile. She was a force to be reckoned with and I was not in a position to reckon anybody.

  “So what happens if I catch the killer?” I asked. “Will there be a trial?” I pictured myself in a montage of scenes from my favorite crime shows—Law & Order, Brooklyn Nine-Nine, Bones, and Murder, She Wrote.

  “Perhaps we’ll create a tribunal,” Hera said. “Rhadamanthys can be one of the judges.”

  “Who’s that?” I asked.

  “Rhad used to be one of the Judges of the Dead in another realm,” Randolph said. “Now he lives here.”

  “I’m sure he’ll be pleased to know his services are required after all this time,” Hera said.

  “I don’t understand,” I said. “You don’t have any judges or anything? How have you dealt with murderers up until now?”

  Everyone fell silent.

  “There haven’t been any murderers until now,” Hera ground out. “As such, I’m not certain, as others have said, that your simultaneous arrival is a coincidence.”

  I found it difficult to believe that with all these supernaturals in a closed environment, there hadn’t been any murders before. No vampire had sucked too much of someone’s blood? No witch had a spell go wrong that unintentionally obliterated an innocent third party?

  “What will happen to the person…supernatural if the tribunal finds them guilty?” I asked. It didn’t sound like there was a prison.

  The intensity of Hera’s gaze was unsettling. “Should the culprit be found guilty, then they will get what they deserve—a one-way pass to oblivion.”

  I swallowed hard.

  “Randolph, please escort Miss Worthington to 47 Hamilton Street.”

  “I’ll do it,” Hot Guy said. He turned to face me and my heart skipped a beat. “Come on, hot dog. The sooner we get started, the better.”

  With a faint smirk, Hera picked up a gavel and smacked the podium with it. “I encourage you all to return to your regularly scheduled activities. Proceeding adjourned.”

  Chapter Three

  I stood outside the HOA office, waiting for a ride to my new house. The balmy weather meant I was perfectly comfortable in my shorts and T-shirt. Hot Guy rounded the corner on a black scooter and stopped directly in front of me.

  “No motorcycle?” I asked.

  “This is as fast and furious as it gets in Divine Place,” he said. “No cars or trucks. Just golf carts and scooters.” He stuck out his hand. “I should probably introduce myself. I’m Cole. Demigod, son of Tana and Zeus, protector of justice and social order.”

  “Bringer of fire and brimstone. First of his name. Yada yada.” I waved my hand. “I
get it, Mr. Stormborn.” My mind screeched to a halt. “Wait, did you just say you’re the son of Zeus?”

  He hesitated. “We weren’t what you would call close.”

  “But Hera isn’t your mother.”

  “No, although she was married to Zeus when I was born,” Cole said. “Still holds a grudge, as you can probably imagine.”

  “Man, Thanksgiving must be extremely awkward at your house.” I felt the ends of my hair beginning to frizz. “Important question. Why is there humidity here if I’m not in Hell?”

  “Because it can’t be perfect or it’d be Valhalla or the Elysian Fields or one of the other honorable afterlife places.” He pointed skyward. “Word to the wise, there’s a downpour every day at three o’clock. You’ll want to watch out for that unless you want to star in your own wet T-shirt contest.”

  “Wouldn’t be the first time,” I said.

  He patted the seat behind him. “Hop on and I’ll take you to Hamilton Street.”

  I climbed on behind him and wrapped my arms around his waist, inhaling the scent of sandalwood and grapefruit. If all guys here looked and smelled like him, I was going to be one happy dead lady.

  I leaned closer to his ear to be heard. “Zeus must have been a pretty big deal around here.”

  He turned his neck as far as he could. “If you’re worried about everyone holding it against you, don’t. Nobody really liked him.”

  “Nobody really liked me in Chipping Cheddar, but I hope that they’d care if someone murdered me.”

  “Donna’s more upset than anyone, but she hasn’t been with Zeus long enough to be fed up with him.”

  “Yeah, I saw her in action. Is she an elemental witch or something?”

  “She’s a korrigane. A wind spirit. Humans sometimes call them faeries.”

  “She doesn’t have wings.”

  “Her type doesn’t need them.”

  We rode past strings of shops painted in pale colors with awnings designed to keep the walkways cool.

  “Truth be told, I’d feel compelled to identify the killer even if Hera hadn’t forced me to,” I said.

  “If you have that much integrity, I’m surprised you were sent here.”

  “It’s not integrity. If I’m going to be stuck here, I don’t want all these creatures giving me side-eye everywhere I go. I want to eat my Jell-O in peace.” This place reminded me of my Nana Jo’s retirement village and I always looked forward to my visits because of the Jell-O. They would do different molds. One year they did Jell-O in the shape of shamrocks for St. Patrick's Day.