Reinhardt Keith received the e-mail simultaneously at every one of his addresses at 1:13 in the afternoon on a Friday. The message was brief and worded in such a way that he couldn’t help being interested. His job was to find news after all, to stay plugged in to the goings on of society. It was more than his job; it was his calling. Nothing like this had ever come through his inbox, though. The e-mails were all the same: four simple lines and a name. When he had his tech guys trace the address they came up short. The sender was good. Even the Nigerian scammers couldn’t hide their trail as well as this guy had, which made the allure of his story even stronger. The name alone wormed its way into his every waking moment. The sender referred to himself as Penelope of Mantineia’s son. Keith did some research and discovered that Odysseus’s so-called faithful wife had spent a lot of time on her back, legs spread, while her hubby was out and about. Her son could be anyone. The body of the e-mails though .
