(5-minute mystery) The End of a Mythophile

[Politicalbeast]

The End of a Mythophile


The contents of the mansion of Everett Ashley Woodstock, the late Everett Ashley Woodstock, ran the gamut from the exquisite, the tasteful and the rare, to the worst in absolute schlock. Everett Ashley Woodstock had spent a lifetime obsessed with mythology. Not all mythologies, however, nor the meaning of mythology in history, or in art or in literature, but simply a total and exclusive devotion to the stories, characters and artifacts of Greek mythology.

The combination of this passion and his considerable wealth meant that Woodstock’s pieces of genuine Greek statuary, particularly those sculpted before 600 BC, were unmatched by all but a few major museums in the world. The same was true of his collection of Minoan pottery. In fact there were some wags in the department of archaeology at the local university who were known to observe that the Minotaur, if he ever came back, would likely feel more at home in Woodstock’s solarium than in Crete itself!

But there was another side to the Woodstock experience. As though to counter the exquisite beauty with which he had surrounded himself, this eccentric old man had dipped into the vulgar and cheap, with a passion that outdid his artistic sense. For every genuine piece of sculpture from the Mediterranean, there were two, three, or even four, huge and ugly plaster-of-Paris statues of the Greek gods or the Greek heroes or the many virgin victims of Zeus. Each delicate vase was overwhelmed on all sides by a gargantuan Ariadne, or a puffy Chloe, or an ample-bosomed but vicious Phaedra.

Chief Inspector Lawrence Darby contemplated this contradiction as he stood in the foyer of the Woodstock mansion, trying to clear of the bustle of the homicide unit doing its job around him. The body of old Woodstock, so brutally murdered, had been cleared away and the coroner had left, but the blood, sticky now, still covered the floor, and the photographers and lab technicians continued to comb the place, searching, dusting, photographing. Chief Inspector Lawrence Darby knew they would be here for a long, long time if every piece had to be checked. In the foyer alone, there were seven life-size statues, each representing a principal character in the gruesome story of the House of Atreus, and another set showing Jason and the Argonauts. Over in the archway knelt an obsequious Paris, holding a huge golden apple.

“Must have taken a few tons of plaster for that one,” Darby said to the photographer, who had just taken a third shot of Paris’ bare bottom.

The photographer looked up quickly. She was embarrassed. “I didn’t see you, Chief! Kennedy said to get pictures of everything from every angle, so…”

“Did Kennedy tell you to get some shots of the broken display case over there?” Lawrence Darby wanted to know. “Someone – probably the killer – could not tell junk from class. That vase left behind in the case looks Minoan to me.”

Kennedy was Detective Bernard Kennedy, newly promoted, recently assigned, and perpetually and painfully eager. He was out in the solarium trying to begin an inventory of the Woodstock collection.

The photographer was hustling off to shoot the display case when Detective Kennedy suddenly materialized beside a statue of Thyestes that was painted amateurishly in a garish red.

“You should see the stuff in there, Chief!” he blurted as soon as he saw Lawrence Darby. Kennedy always seemed to talk extra loud around his boss. It made Darby feel just a bit older than he was.

“There’s all kinds of broken cases!” Detective Kennedy didn’t slow down easily once he got excited. “And some of those big statues! I guess they were just too big for the killer to carry. You should see this one…uh…Damaclis!”

“Dam-o-cleez,” Darby corrected.

“Yeah, Damocles!” There was no stopping Detective Kennedy. “He’s got this giant sword over his head! Hanging from the ceiling yet! And these two guys, Damian and Pith…Pi…”

“Pythias,” Darby managed to get in.

“Yeah, Pythias!” He smirked. “Wonder what those two guys had going!”

Darby felt weak. “They are a wonderful symbol of true friendship, nothing more.”

“Didn’t look like that to me!” Kennedy paused for a second to bring a large plastic bag out from behind Thyestes. “Anyways,” he continued, “we’re gonna have a lot more trouble trackin’ down all that pottery than fingerin’ the killer. Here’s the piece dee resistance.”

Darby ignored the pronunciation. “I heard there was a message left by Woodstock. This is it?”

“Yeah. We found it right beside him.” Kennedy held up a sheet of newspaper. “See? Lookit! Printed in his own blood. ‘VENUS.’ With his own finger, too! Must have!”

Darby looked away. He hated the sight of blood.

Kennedy wasn’t finished. “And here’s your killer!” He held out an engraved, ebony-handled riding crop. The initials T.F.W. were very clear. “This is what we found behind the statue of Venus over there. That’s blood on it or I miss my guess. Bet it’s the old man’s, too. Anyways, T.F.W. has got to be Terence Frederick Woodstock. That’s the old man’s nephew. Find him, and I’ll bet it’s case closed!”

Darby paused a moment or two to let his young subordinate wind down. “Detective Kennedy,” he said, “I think you’re looking at a frame-up. A clumsy one, too, I might add.”

“What do mean!” Kennedy was indignant. “It’s plain as day! The old guy writes a message in his last seconds. Uses his own blood. He couldn’t possibly…”

“If I may!” Darby raised his voice to Kennedy’s decibel level for the first time. “You, young man, have an obvious gap in your classical education. Unless it’s filled, you’re probably going to arrest the wrong person!”



What did Lawrence Darby note that Detective Kennedy seems to have missed?

[Politicalbeast]

Yawn.

[Chris_]

What's the yawning for?

Hey, Everett is interested in Greek mythology alone and he would not have had a statue of Venus (Roman Goddess of Love), but the Greek Aphrodite. Therefore, he would not have printed Venus in his own blood if he knew he was dying and leaving a clue. It was not him who wrote Venus, but someone who wanted to frame TFW.

[Politicalbeast]

What's the yawning for?

Hey, Everett is interested in Greek mythology alone and he would not have had a statue of Venus (Roman Goddess of Love), but the Greek Aphrodite. Therefore, he would not have printed Venus in his own blood if he knew he was dying and leaving a clue. It was not him who wrote Venus, but someone who wanted to frame TFW.

I honestly thought this would stump the resident folks at NU, but I was wrong. DJ posses some useless knowledge on Greek mythology.

[bijou]

What's the yawning for?

Hey, Everett is interested in Greek mythology alone and he would not have had a statue of Venus (Roman Goddess of Love), but the Greek Aphrodite. Therefore, he would not have printed Venus in his own blood if he knew he was dying and leaving a clue. It was not him who wrote Venus, but someone who wanted to frame TFW.

Meh. Beat me to it. 

[Chris_]

What's the yawning for?

Hey, Everett is interested in Greek mythology alone and he would not have had a statue of Venus (Roman Goddess of Love), but the Greek Aphrodite. Therefore, he would not have printed Venus in his own blood if he knew he was dying and leaving a clue. It was not him who wrote Venus, but someone who wanted to frame TFW.

Meh. Beat me to it. 

I had to get one under my belt! Oh, I should have PM'd the answer or written it in light font... sorry about that.

[bijou]

What's the yawning for?

Hey, Everett is interested in Greek mythology alone and he would not have had a statue of Venus (Roman Goddess of Love), but the Greek Aphrodite. Therefore, he would not have printed Venus in his own blood if he knew he was dying and leaving a clue. It was not him who wrote Venus, but someone who wanted to frame TFW.

Meh. Beat me to it. 

I had to get one under my belt! Oh, I should have PM'd the answer or written it in light font... sorry about that.

That's OK it's only a problem when an answer is given in the first reply, it is unlikely you'd accidentally scroll past that and see an answer.