"Who are these men, Annie? Annie?" The Old Woman sat center of the garden. She had a long purple skirt, her grey hair bundled in a bun and on her lips with a deep red lipstick. She was Caucasian, which told Apollo that the other ones must have been so too. And she sounded southern, not too deep or comical. Light and modest.

It had taken them an elevator trip to the highest possible point of this casino to reach her. And when they did, when they came out of that blocky, glass-walled elevator, they had witnessed the garden of wisterias and lily pads, a small river that slid along the ornate floor pattern, that wrapped itself around the collection of violet colored trees. At the center, calling out for Annie, the dour face Old Woman rocked her chair and expunged a tear from the corner of her eye.

"You can have this one," Apollo said.

"Are you sure I should, though?" Dion asked. "He died recently, this woman must still be in shock."

"You can't be kind to these people," Apollo said. "You've got to be just as ruthless as the murderer. Truth does not care for feelings."

"Don't worry about that," Aenea stepped forward. "She isn't as innocent as she looks."

"Annie, please explain this." The Old Woman said.

"These are the detectives sent to investigate Thomas's murder."

"He's your father, not 'Thomas'!" She yelled back. Apollo's leg moved backward instinctively, he looked over to Dion who had a face in between shock and foreboded frown.

Annie walked with a strong stride, merciless even in her abruptness. The two followed, Apollo behind Dion as he waved past the ferns and observed the landscape. It was the very top of the pointed skyscraper, a little triangle of land that had plotted itself as a garden. He could smell honeysuckle, he certainly saw the wisterias and the feeling of fresh water gave a pleasant humidity to the air.

In front of him, Dion walked, taking a deep breath. He straightened himself and sat. In his hands, the legal paper. Apollo kept somewhat close behind him, behind the seat and behind Aenea (Annie). He fiddled with the plants.

"Don't touch you brute! You'll kill my Aloe Vera." The Old Woman screamed. His head moved slowly, like a moving statue in some distant temple, labored and excruciatingly slow.

"Sorry," He said and put his hand in his pocket.

Dion coughed. The Old Woman redirected herself.

"Hello, ma'am," Dion said. "Our apologies for the intrusion but we need to ask some questions."

"Intruding, destroying. Annie, who in the hell did you hire? I told you the Saxon's were good enough!"

"My name is Aenea, Salome." She said, harsh.

"Don't be spiteful, girl." Salome rocked. She put her head down and rubbed her wet eyes. "Don't be spiteful to your mother, especially now that father is gone. Oh lord, oh lord..."

She wiped her face.

"You are not my mother, you know that. We have no blood flowing through us, no relationship but the man..." She said. "Thomas,"

She mumbled off.

The woman did not answer, she kept sobbing.

"Are you sure?" Dion asked. "This is cruel."

Apollo folded his arm.

"Ma'am!" He repeated. More assertive, his voice had a booming quality like a malfunctioned air horn.

The old woman looked up. She looked at the two boys, her face changing from a sagging, wet sadness, to a tight-lipped anger. Resentment almost.

"How could she bring two heart-eaters?" She hissed. "To our house!"

Dion sighed, in relief almost. For the woman still had a semblance of matriarchal brutality, of life in her. And that was reassuring, to know that she wasn't as brittle as she appeared.

"We're here to ask you in regard to Thomas Wolfe Jr, the victim of the murder," Dion said.

"You don't have to tell me he was the victim, don't be patronizing boy." She said.

"I'll try not to be, ma'am. I just need to know what you know of Thomas, any enemies. Any recent plans, anything that might lead to a motive and subsequently, a lead."

"What I know about him?" She nearly laughed. "I was married to that man for twenty-five years. That's older than you two tykes!"

Dion extended his legs out, he spread them wide and leaned inwards to fill up the space in this new gap. He was breathing heavily. Concentrating, trying his best to mimic Apollo. And Apollo looked at him, curiously, Do I look that stupid?

"You've known him a long time, haven't you ma'am? That's good," He said. "You know he was a big tycoon and that he had a lot of enemies. Do you have any idea who they might be? Who wanted him dead? Anything? Perhaps the means of which he was killed through."

"The means of which he was killed - what? Isn't that your job!" She hissed. Her rocking pace increased. Her fists were tight. "That god damn Annie's brought two imbeciles to lead my husbands' revenge. I could have hired thirty men, thirty different men who were stronger willed, brighter, kinder than you filthy heart-eaters."

Apollo's eye twitched. Aenea looked at him, glaring at him.

"No offense ma'am," Dion said. "But we're not interested in revenge, just the truth. Can you tell us about his enemies, or perhaps who Thomas Wolfe was?"

She rocked and looked at Aenea.

"You never knew much about him either, did you?" She asked. "Oh you wretched thing, you never wanted to get to know him. And now look? You never will. You're a terrible daughter."

Now she was twitching and now Apollo was glaring at her.

Dion coughed again, drawing them all to him.

"Aenea doesn't know much about her father, she told us that much at least, so this whole business is as much a mystery to us as it is to her," Dion said. "So I was wondering if you could tell me what this meeting meant for you? I was informed it was just a retirement plan, but -"

"It was more than that. It was the passing of the legacy. The money, the curse."

"Say," Dion wrote in his notepad.

"I can tell you more, I don't mind. Why would I? Does anyone tire of hearing about great men? Find me the man who can't appreciate the story of a king." She said. "And by the way you all speak, even Annie over here, I don't think any of you have any idea of the man Thomas Wolfe Jr was. How good mannered, and assertive and kind and courageous my husband was. It's no surprise that such a man had enemies. Great men tend to because great men stir the rotten earth. Clean it, cure it."

He did not speak. None of them did, they left room for her melodramatic-gestured oration.

"I met him in the spring of '85," she said. "When he was still a young man. He had nothing to his name, did you know that? Nothing but strong will and a clear goal, both guided by principal. A principal born through God. He was a Protestant, after all. We spent our youth trying to fix up the downtrodden lodge left by his father, after he died. Boy those days were good..." Her eyes trailed off. "It was a lot of work, a lodge in a desert. A small motel in a city that didn't have much. He almost sold this place, twice, did you know that? And he said both times, don't worry, God has plans for us yet. He's left us this paradise, hid it underneath this desert. All we have to do is dig, dig. Dig." Her voice trailed off. "Like a diamond in a sandbox. That's what he said..."

This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

"From a lodge to an oil tycoon, to a casino."

"It happened by accident, or at least that's what I said," Salome said. "But he always had faith, and one day, after saving some money, had determined himself to dig a hole right down this damn desert. I told him he was foolish, oh do I regret saying such, I told him all the oil wells have been mined decades ago, that it was stupid to go in this late into the game. Oh, how I wish to take it back, oh."

She began to weep and took out a white handkerchief to wipe the tears at the edges of her eyes.

"It wasn't a lot, the oil. But it was enough to buy property, to grow the land, the only way a desert could be grown and nurtured. He made a kingdom. A kingdom of heaven, a place where everyone could be king. Boy did he love saying that, always telling me, 'I know what it is to be poor. To be unwanted. To never win. I wouldn't wish that on anyone, I wouldn't.' He built this city, slowly. By sheer will. It attracted people, or maybe he attracted people and before long he had made the casino what it was. Growing it, slowly, never waiting, always tired. He was no perfect man, as no man is, but he was a fine Christian. A hard-working, good-willed Christian. Oh yes, he was."

"Must have hard being a Christian when you sold your soul to the devil." Apollo interrupted. He could feel his face contorted, he could feel his own hostile aura. Menacing, slowly creeping, quiet.

"There was no contract, heart-eater. He inherited the curse from his father. Perhaps you ought to read up on history. Not all witches are willful. Not all pacts, gifts. He was forced into the role and did his best to do right by God with his power." She said in her spiteful, coarse voice. "He always considered it a burden, a cross to carry as he said himself. Something to be shamed, something to be feared. He was very careful when and how and why he used his gifts. Which is more than what your church can say. It seems you're willing to use your heavy hand for every small thing imaginable."

"Let's get back to Thomas, ma'am." He could tell he hit a nerve, for her thin arms shook and the chair rocked like an impatient pendulum. She looked like a turkey, with the hanging skin on her neck and biceps.

"So he established a casino in what was once a place of nothing. Seems like his parents didn't have as much business sense as him."

"Thomas Wolfe Sr, God bless his soul, was just never interested in business not like my husband that is. All he inherited from him was the bottle - " She lowered her face and thought. Apollo meant to press this, but she seemed agitated enough. Dion kept writing. "Never mind that, it doesn't matter. He drunk every now and then, but like I said, he was no saint. And for the most part, he was moral and industrious. As God intended, for sloth is one of the greatest sins of man."

"Who were his enemies?"

"Who wasn't?" She asked. "We're not that far from Las Vegas, so you got the whole city coming down our throats every other day. You have people who want to compete, to buy real estate right across from us. After we! We!" She repeated expecting a reaction. "Spent all our time building this city. There's no shortage of two-time crooks trying to reap our fruits of labor. This city is ours, we made it, we earned it. Ain't no one have the right to stomp their feet in our home, to claim it their own. Ain't no one."

"I'm guessing they'll be harassing you soon, now that he's dead?" He asked.

"They can ask all they want. I will continue his legacy."

"Does everyone in the company agree with that sentiment?"

Her face morphed completely. Her lips quivered, her face turned, for the first time.

"No,"

"Who doesn't agree with Thomas Wolfe's monopoly?"

"The damn board of directors, if you ask me. My family owns most of the stocks, but I'm afraid they might find a way to hedge a few percentages more and then..."

Apollo and Dion smelled it. It was in the air like the honeysuckle, or the Wisterias or the clean pure water. It was the blood of murder, the trail of rust-tasting blood.

"If your family owns most of the stock, how would they ever be able to get a majority hold? Who'd be willing to sell?" Apollo approached. Aenea looked, curious for once, her eyes narrowed at the mother.

"You two aren't really business savvy, are you?" She asked. "I'm not surprised. I hear you heart-eaters are a bit poor and uncultured, that you all eat mud like the savages you are. Just a step above the common demon."

"Answer the question," Dion repeated, as harsh as Apollo. Both of them, for once, unified. If only because of the insult, the crassness of the old lady. She turned her head methodologically.

"I'll say this: not all of Thomas's children agreed with him, I'll say that." She said. "And I'll also have you know it doesn't matter because the business is being left to my eldest. Thomas Wolfe the third, he'll never let those bastards have it...never."

"Junior? Junior's getting the business?" Aenea sprung alive, walking with extreme fervor.

"Do you have a problem with that?"

"No," She said. "Do whatever you want, none of this belongs to me and I don't belong to none of this. I'm just surprised is all. Junior?"

"Yes, Junior has it. Don't ask anymore, girl." Salome said.

"Alright, alright, let's bring it back." Dion scratched on the paper. "He might have been backstabbed by his business partners. Tell me, was this, 'Junior', always destined for the casino?"

"Yes,"

"It probably wasn't him then," Apollo nodded his head in disappointment.

Dion scratched out the name on his notepad with a horizontal line drawn through.

"Is there any other child, son, that would have wanted the casino?"

"None of mine!" She said. The words escaped her as if they had just ignored all the language processes in her brain. Like a flinch, a reaction of motor skills. A trained denial. "My kids? Never. But that other whore's..."

"You better not be talking about my mother." Aenea gripped her hand.

"Not you, Annie. Jesus, have a higher opinion of me, girl." She said. "I'm talking about the first wife."

Saying 'first' seemed like a painful thing, her teeth grated against each other as she forced it out.

"There was one who was up in arms about getting the casino, only briefly. Richter, the youngest son of the other whore woman." She nodded her head. "I doubt it was him though. He seems like a nice boy," She turned again, in doubt. "But we can never be so sure. The power of a demon, of wealth, is enticing, isn't it? And he is a trained witch, so I hear."

Richter. Dion wrote it down on his pad.

"Are there any more trained witches?"

"No, none of my kids have done the dowry. I repeat though, my kids." Dion wrote it down. Apollo narrowed his eyes. Salome had twitched, her right arm. She gripped her long skirt, her blouse. That was a new movement, a quirk. It's just a nudge, that's all it was. He scratched his nose. It couldn't mean anything, could it?

"Dowry?" Apollo asked. "Like a marriage gift?"

"That's what they call the process of their covenant," Dion said. "Pacts with devils procure the strongest abilities we know of, as such, they require a heavy price. These prices vary based on demons. I've heard of men who give up their kidneys, quite literally, for power. Others who have offered children...so on and so forth..." Dion said. Shotgunned it at Apollo.

"Has Richter made a pact?"

"I don't know much about him or his brother. Like I said, they're from the other whore." She said. "They don't speak much to my children and we don't speak much to them."

"Do they live here?"

"They visited for the passing of the rite, my husband's gift onto Junior. I wouldn't be surprised if they had it in them to kill him." She got livelier, her fist in the air. "If you ask me, you should be questioning them. Spare an old woman like me your rudeness."

"That's just speculation, ma'am," Dion said. "But we'll keep it in mind. Is Richter here at the moment?"

"No, he went out. He'll be back, that's what he said." Salome said. "But I don't trust him. He might never be back. That's why I sent the two after him. If he even tries to run, they'll - They'll!"

"You sent the Saxons after him?" Aenea asked.

"Only to watch him, that's it."

And he has a brother. Apollo felt his phantom limb going off again, a pain, and another voice. Loud. Brother, brother. Screaming. A Brother like us.

"Can we talk to your children?" Dion asked.

"No," She said, firmly. "I know what kind of insanity you're trying to point at and you won't find it here. My children are good and honest people, who don't have it in them to kill anyone. Most of all their father. They were raised better than that. They're Christians, for God's sake. What kind of Christian kills?"

"It's like you said. Demons and wealth entice," Apollo said.

He felt Dion's hand slap his thigh. He held back.

"We're trying to get all options out on the table, is all," Dion said. "Our strongest bet right now is the board of directors scheming something. Perhaps Richter too. Or maybe it was the competition trying to get foot ground in this city. I'm sure Aenea can help us with those things,"

"Can you, Annie?" Salome asked. "I thought you didn't want anything to do with the family business."

"I still don't." She said. "But burying Thomas is more important now, so I'll look into our accounting papers if I have to."

She grinned. Some of her teeth were missing, she had some gold molars. They looked bright in the filtered light of the greenhouse.

"Get on with it then, detectives, before my boys beat you to it."

Dion nodded, said goodbye and stood.

Apollo felt his limb hurt again, the stump. His throat was dry. The taste of vinegar was strong like acid almost, rotting his teeth.

It's wrong, you know it.

He shook his head and looked back at Salome, still sitting. Aenea and Dion had already walked away.

"If you don't mind me asking, ma'am. How many children did Thomas have in total? Across all women?"

"Eight."

"That's going to be a lot of people to get through," Apollo said.

"You'll find my children to be the most well-civilized. I don't think you'll have any problems with them, which marks off half the list if I do say so."

"If you say so," Apollo said. She looked down, rocking, holding her handkerchief, silent.

"One more thing, ma'am."

"What?" She said.

"Where are you from?"

"I'm a Louisiana girl, of course." She said. "Couldn't you tell by the southern hospitality?"