called back, he’d get me on his timing when I wouldn’t be steeled against the sound of his voice.
For a wonder, the universe passed up an opportunity to thumb its nose in my general direction and a prerecorded voice popped on to ask me to leave a message. I did so—coherently even.
I chewed my lip as I thought about other avenues for research. It was too soon to hear anything back from Yiayia, considering she was on stage and all. I thought briefly about trying to hack into her phone records to track down her contact, but I was strictly amateur. I could manage to infiltrate the average person’s home computer, but the phone company was another matter and not worth the jail time. Besides, I’d promised. Sort of.
Luckily, my phone rang before I could contemplate any further felonies.
“Karacis Investigations,” I answered in my receptionist voice.
“Hello. Tori Karacis please.”
My eyes nearly rolled up into my head. Hearing my name in that deep, resonant, vaguely accented voice was enough to give me palpitations.
“Speaking,” I answered, determined not to show the effects.
“Ah, I thought that it might be. You rang. Have you discovered something already?”
The question was inevitable, and I was prepared. I fed him enough to satisfy him about the police investigation and my own leads with the standard disclaimer that it was early yet and that other avenues of inquiry were certain to materialize, yada, yada, yada.
“I called because I need three things from you. First, an appointment to review Circe’s records—”
“Fine,” he cut in and rattled off a number. “That will get you to Circe’s administrative assistant. I’ll tell her to expect you.”
“Okay then. Next I need an introduction to Hiero Cholas.”
“Hiero—why?”
“Routine. He’s got ties to the nereids, having been raised by one if the myths have it right, and to the mermaid film via ILM. If either have any connection to Circe’s death, he’s a likely source of information.”
“I’m not—” he paused, and I could almost hear him changing gears. I wondered what he’d been about to say and why he’d stopped. “I’ll see what I can do. Third?”
“I’d like to talk with one of the oceanids or nereids myself if you can arrange it.”
“Alas,” — Alas?— “that I can’t do.”
“Why?” I asked when he failed to elaborate.
“It’s—delicate. Let’s just say that an introduction from me, even if I knew how to contact them right now, would do you more harm than good.”
Translation, I guessed, amounted to yet another failed affair where the pursuee ended up transmogrified, pregnant or stranded.
A tart comment tickled the tip of my tongue, but I bit it back. Kicking a god when he was down, however much he might deserve it, didn’t seem the wisest course.
“I’ll find my own path then. Thanks for your help.”
“It is nothing. Please, call me any time. And I mean that.”
His voice had lowered to phone-sex level on that last, and I was suddenly shivery in some very intimate places. I had to swallow to lubricate my dry throat before I could respond. By the time I did, it was too late. Apollo had disconnected, leaving my body humming completely out of sync with the dial tone.
I deliberately forced my mind back along more fruitful pathways. Yiayia couldn’t be the only mortal who’d twigged to the whole “immortals walking the earth” concept. Maybe I could find someone on the web who was less discrete about giving away current info. I’d have to wade through a lot of crap probably, but if something big was churning up the rumor mill, as Yiayia had implied, there was a good chance I’d find something. The Internet was like one gigantic small town. The question was what in the world did I type in to find a needle in a haystack? I couldn’t very well just enter “trouble in godland” and expect all my problems to be solved.
Or maybe I could.
My fingers flew over the keys. No, no, I
For a wonder, the universe passed up an opportunity to thumb its nose in my general direction and a prerecorded voice popped on to ask me to leave a message. I did so—coherently even.
I chewed my lip as I thought about other avenues for research. It was too soon to hear anything back from Yiayia, considering she was on stage and all. I thought briefly about trying to hack into her phone records to track down her contact, but I was strictly amateur. I could manage to infiltrate the average person’s home computer, but the phone company was another matter and not worth the jail time. Besides, I’d promised. Sort of.
Luckily, my phone rang before I could contemplate any further felonies.
“Karacis Investigations,” I answered in my receptionist voice.
“Hello. Tori Karacis please.”
My eyes nearly rolled up into my head. Hearing my name in that deep, resonant, vaguely accented voice was enough to give me palpitations.
“Speaking,” I answered, determined not to show the effects.
“Ah, I thought that it might be. You rang. Have you discovered something already?”
The question was inevitable, and I was prepared. I fed him enough to satisfy him about the police investigation and my own leads with the standard disclaimer that it was early yet and that other avenues of inquiry were certain to materialize, yada, yada, yada.
“I called because I need three things from you. First, an appointment to review Circe’s records—”
“Fine,” he cut in and rattled off a number. “That will get you to Circe’s administrative assistant. I’ll tell her to expect you.”
“Okay then. Next I need an introduction to Hiero Cholas.”
“Hiero—why?”
“Routine. He’s got ties to the nereids, having been raised by one if the myths have it right, and to the mermaid film via ILM. If either have any connection to Circe’s death, he’s a likely source of information.”
“I’m not—” he paused, and I could almost hear him changing gears. I wondered what he’d been about to say and why he’d stopped. “I’ll see what I can do. Third?”
“I’d like to talk with one of the oceanids or nereids myself if you can arrange it.”
“Alas,” — Alas?— “that I can’t do.”
“Why?” I asked when he failed to elaborate.
“It’s—delicate. Let’s just say that an introduction from me, even if I knew how to contact them right now, would do you more harm than good.”
Translation, I guessed, amounted to yet another failed affair where the pursuee ended up transmogrified, pregnant or stranded.
A tart comment tickled the tip of my tongue, but I bit it back. Kicking a god when he was down, however much he might deserve it, didn’t seem the wisest course.
“I’ll find my own path then. Thanks for your help.”
“It is nothing. Please, call me any time. And I mean that.”
His voice had lowered to phone-sex level on that last, and I was suddenly shivery in some very intimate places. I had to swallow to lubricate my dry throat before I could respond. By the time I did, it was too late. Apollo had disconnected, leaving my body humming completely out of sync with the dial tone.
I deliberately forced my mind back along more fruitful pathways. Yiayia couldn’t be the only mortal who’d twigged to the whole “immortals walking the earth” concept. Maybe I could find someone on the web who was less discrete about giving away current info. I’d have to wade through a lot of crap probably, but if something big was churning up the rumor mill, as Yiayia had implied, there was a good chance I’d find something. The Internet was like one gigantic small town. The question was what in the world did I type in to find a needle in a haystack? I couldn’t very well just enter “trouble in godland” and expect all my problems to be solved.
Or maybe I could.
My fingers flew over the keys. No, no, I
Similar Books
