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“My uncle knows,” I tell her. “That’s why I stopped talking to your sons. Uncle Alexander came home with signed and stamped papers from the courthouse. He will tell the police you had something to do with Dad’s murder.”
She presses her lips together, smearing the pale shade of pink. “Your uncle is another problem we’ll address.”
Ares and Atlas nod.
“I’ll go with you, Mother,” Apollo offers and comes to stand at her side. “Let me take the lead.”
ChapterTwelve
APOLLO
When I was a boy,my father noticed I was different from my brothers. He saw my talent for numbers and raised me in his likeness. And even though I’m younger than Ares, our dad always treated me like I was the oldest.
The more responsible one.
While Ares was out getting high and fighting, I learned how to be the man of the house. Dad said my job was to protect the family when he wasn’t around.
I was only fourteen.
That was ten years ago.
Back then, Atlas always had his head in the clouds. He was too busy looking for inspiration to care about anything happening in the real world. Not much has changed in all these years.
My brothers have their strengths. But in our current situation, neither can help dig us out of this mess. Not after the police take one look at them covered in tattoos, immediately rendering them thugs.
As I open the door for the police, I step into the role my father groomed me to play. I am the head of this household.
“Hello, officers,” I say with a pleasant smile aimed at the middle-aged men on our doorstep. “How can I help you?”
Be polite.
Smile.
Those were my dad’s rules if the police or any of the authorities ever came knocking. He worked for Belen for most of his life. Even when they were in high school, hustling money from kids, Belen was always the boss. My dad was more straight-laced and, even back then, handled the cash.
“Good evening, we’re looking for Mrs. Athena Drakos,” the tallest of the cops says.
“That’s my mother,” I tell them and hold open the door wider. “I’m Apollo Demetriou.”
The taller man nods. “Is your mother home, Mr. Demetriou? We need to ask her a few questions.”
Mom appears in the entryway, dabbing at her fake tears with a silk scarf. “I saw the news and have been worried sick. Belen won’t answer my calls. Do you think he was in the building when it set fire?”
“Ma’am, can we come inside? We’d like to ask you a few questions about your husband.”
“Of course.” She tips her head back and gives an Oscar-worthy performance that looks real to anyone who doesn’t know her. “Anything to help find my Belen.”
I want to gag.
My mother is nothing short of spectacular, as usual. Our mother can fool anyone. She’s good at pretending she gives a damn about Belen.
Ares and Atlas are keeping Ophelia busy in the sitting room. She was too much of a mess. Even though she offered to help, I didn’t see any reason for it. With how unstable she’s been all night, the police might become more suspicious.
I guide them into the kitchen and point at the table. “We can sit here and talk.”
Mom offers them coffee and turns her back to us to get the French press ready. “My husband and I regularly donate to the Beacon Bay Police Department. We’re very supportive of everything you do for this community.”
Maybe tone it down, Athena.
