A Fate Worse Than Death Read Online Free

Jesus?”
    “I don’t know,” said God as He picked up His cigarette again.
    “Do you want me to find him too?”
    “No, no, no,” spluttered God, the smoke streaming from His mouth in three different directions. “I don’t know where Jesus is because he’s away at the moment. He often goes down to Earth to check up on things for me.”
    “You mean the second coming has already happened?”
    “The second coming, and the third, and the fourth. He’s learned to keep a much lower profile these days, after all that messy business the first time around. Still, sometimes it’s hard for him. People always want to follow him. He’s very charismatic. See, have a look at these photos.”
    God pointed over to the shelf beside the television where a bunch of photos stood: a series of family shots of God and Jesus celebrating events such as birthdays, graduations, and homecomings. My eyes were instantly drawn to the younger man with the flowing brown hair, the beard, and the expression of inner calm. It took me a while to realise there was a second young man in the photos.
    He was utterly ordinary looking. His hair was cropped short, and his clean-shaven face was pleasant but uninteresting. His mouth was permanently caught halfway between a smile and a frown, while his eyes never looked directly at the camera. He seemed to hang at the back of the photos, deflecting all attention to his more compelling father and brother. Compared to God and Jesus, he was like a dry cracker sitting next to a box of chocolates.
    “This is Phil?” I indicated the other young man in the photos.
    God nodded. “He’s nothing like Jesus. It’s not at all like him to go missing. He’s much more the stay-at-home type.”
    “With digs like this, I don’t blame him. So what does he do while he’s staying at home?”
    “He helps me out with . . . certain things.”
    “What sorts of things?”
    “Just a few odds and ends. A little of this and a little of that.”
    “A little of this and a little of that can add up to quite a lot. A little more information would be helpful.”
    “I’m sorry, Mr Clarenden. When I said this was a personal matter, I meant it. There are some things I am unable to share with you.”
    God’s evasiveness was frustrating, but I wasn’t going to question it. Respecting a client’s privacy was an important part of the job. And besides, it didn’t seem smart to bring down His wrath upon me, at least not until I knew Him a bit better. I figured I’d better go with whatever He was prepared to tell me.
    “Can you at least tell me when you last saw him?” I said.
    “It’s been over a week now. He was supposed to be going out for lunch with Raphael—that’s one of my angels—but he didn’t keep the appointment. That in itself is completely unlike him. He’s usually very reliable. Since then, I have seen neither hide nor hair of him. I am concerned, Mr Clarenden. I don’t know if he’ll be able to look after himself. I need you to find him as quickly as possible.”
    “I’ll do my best. But before I start, can I ask you one thing?”
    “Anything, if it will help.”
    “Why me?”
    “What do you mean?” God finished His cigarette and reached into His robe to take out another one.
    “I was just thinking there must be hundreds of brilliant, dead detectives up here in Heaven. So why ask me? Why go to all the effort of summoning me, a no-bit bum who hasn’t solved a case in five years, when you could have hired Sherlock Holmes or the French guy with the moustache or anyone else like that?”
    God finished lighting the cigarette. “As I mentioned, this is a delicate business. My family occupies a privileged position here in Heaven. We enjoy a certain status which I am unwilling to compromise. Therefore, I have been forced to keep the fact of Phil’s disappearance a secret.”
    “You don’t want anyone to know. I can understand that. But how does that affect me?”
    “Think logically. If Sherlock