“Did they do it?”
“I don’t know yet. I’ll have to examine many more charts before I can see. It may just be that as individuals they would never have had enough ego to make it in the business. But working together they strengthened and supported each other sufficiently for success. It doesn’t mean they are murderers.”
“What about the managers?”
“Larry Latner’s chart shows a weak, small-minded character. Not terribly bright, but with a strong sense of self-preservation. It’s not that powerful a chart. Gleason’s and Frey’s both show a lot of business savvy but not a lot of will. I’ll do the composites between the three managers and see what I come up with.”
He rubbed his eyes. “Then there’s the added pleasure of Fat Jimmy DeAngelo’s gang.”
Melinda took a sip of her coffee. “Isn’t Jimmy DeAngelo that really overweight guy you told me about from the commodities exchange?”
“The same.”
“He must have some chart.”
“What would you expect?”
“I guess he has an afflicted ascendant.”
“Right. The ascendant rules the physical body, so weighing around four hundred pounds, what planet would you expect to see in such an unusual case?”
“Uranus?”
“Besides being an Aquarius, which is ruled by that planet, Jimmy does have Uranus conjunct his ascendant, which guarantees some unusual physical situation. Excellent. But he could be very tall, or very short, very thin, or very strange in some way. Why would he be exceedingly large?”
The student thought for a moment. “Jupiter!”
“Exactly! You always were my prize student. Jimmy has Jupiter conjunct Uranus on the ascendant. That would imply an unusual and very large physical body.”
“But couldn’t he have been seven feet tall. So why did it result in excessive weight?”
“Here’s the chart.” Lowell handed her the paper. “He was born February 12th, 1955, at 2:49 p.m. in New York City.”
She studied it for a few moments. “I guess if Jupiter and Uranus were conjunct in a fire sign on the ascendant, he would have been very tall. But the Cancer rising sign tends to be a bit heavy to begin with, and so his body took on the natural Cancerian propensity toward weight and the Jupiter exaggerated it.”
“You really are good, you know? And Mars squares the Jupiter, Uranus, Ascendant conjunction, so?”
“He’s angry about it.”
“Very. Jimmy has the Sun conjunct Mercury in Aquarius, so he’s actually really quite bright. It is inconjunct those Cancer planets, and the Sun and Mercury square Saturn, so things aren’t easy for him. He’s lonely and socially inept. He’s also more concerned with accruing money and power than doing anything constructive with it. The Sun and Mercury also oppose Pluto, so Jimmy is a very frustrated and angry man capable of harsh vengeance. He works behind the scenes and is very much a control freak. If he doesn’t change his attitude, the afflicted Sun, which rules the heart and circulatory system, will most likely result in a fatal heart attack.”
“Did he have Freddie killed?”
“He may be capable of it. I’m not sure yet.”
They sat silently for a few moments while Lowell shuffled papers.
“So, you’ve been spending a lot of time with Vivian Younger?”
He ignored her.
“My god, you’re blushing. Dad! You’re having an affair with her, aren’t you?”
“What? That’s nonsense.” He turned away.
Melinda laughed. “Why, I think that’s wonderful.”
“I don’t want to talk about it.” He picked up a dozen or so charts and began to scrutinize them.”
“Well, I’d love to meet her.”
Lowell sighed and looked at his daughter. “Do you think we could keep this between us?”
Chapter Thirty-six
It was noon the next day when Sarah buzzed. “It’s Roger, from Morgan Stanley.”
“Hello, Roger, what have you got for me?”
“When Freddie’s bond was issued, most of the people in his life took shares. Some for a few bucks, others for much more. Two of his wives are heavily vested. The majority of shares in Freddie’s bond were bought by Brewster, Warren, and Springfield. I tried to find out something about them. But there’s nothing.
“You mean they’re not that big a firm?”
“I mean there is no firm. There is no office, no secretary, no history that I can find at all, only a PO Box.”
“How can that be?”
“The bond was issued by Goldman Sachs, who, by the way, also issued the bonds for Redfish and Gene. But anyone can buy a piece of it if they have the money. You don’t have to work on Wall Street.”
“Can you find out if Brewster, Warren, and Springfield also bought the bonds that Gene and Redfish took out?”
“That I can do. Jimmy DeAngelo’s name did show up, as a partner in a holding company that has about three million invested in Freddie’s bond, which, by the way, expires in March of next year. In fact, all three do.”
“What do you mean?”
“They were all limited issues. After the time limit, the publishing rights revert back to the original copyright owners.”
“So I assume that this new album from Rocket Fire will inflate the value of the note.”
“Not at all. These bonds only involved the pre-existing catalogue. That’s true of all the Bowie bonds. None of Freddie’s work from the time the bond was issued on, including the new record, was part of the deal.”
“Do you mean to tell me that someone was willing to put up fifty million dollars just for the band’s old work? And none of these bonds included anything new to be recorded?”
“That’s right,” said Roger. “It was all about the old material.”
“Well, thanks Roger, I owe you one.”
“Come downtown sometime and you can buy me lunch.”
***
It was late in the afternoon. Mort came into Lowell’s office and walked over to the refrigerator. He took out a Coke and popped the can, taking a healthy swig. He started singing a song under his breath.
“What are you singing?”
“Huh? Oh, I didn’t realize I was singing out loud. It’s one of Rocket Fire’s old hits. I heard it on the radio this morning.”
“Well, cut it out, I can’t hear myself think.”
“Sorry, boss. But that’s all you hear on the radio now. Freddie, and Wally, and Gene, that’s all anyone is playing.”
“Yeah, people get very nostalgic for you when you‘re dead. And they all just put out new albums, didn’t they? So obviously they’re going to get played a lot. Can we get back to work now?”
“Actually, no. The release of the new albums by each of the three has been delayed, and all that’s getting played is the old albums. It’s great to hear them again on the radio.”
“I thought they each had an album about to be released.”
“They did. But I read in Rolling Stone that there were technical difficulties and they all had to be postponed.”
“And now everyone is playing their old music?”
Mort nodded. “Yeah. Everybody’s doing memorial shows and I heard that they’re putting out a “best of” album of each artist as well as a group of younger artists getting together to record their songs. It happens all the time, especially when someone dies.”
Lowell picked up the phone and punched in some numbers.
***
The second time he came to Latner’s office on West 76th Street, Lowell was less impressed. For some reason the house didn’t look so formidable. He noticed some structural decay at the base of the building and in between the stones on the walls, which he hadn’t seen the first time. The same blond answered the door. She didn’t seem so tall this time. Lowell laughed to himself. I really am a snob.
“Oh, Mr. Lowell,” said, “how nice to see you again so soon. Won’t you please come this way?”
Oh, the ret
orts that came to his mind. But he wasn’t in a funny mood. He sat in the waiting room for only a few moments when the blond returned and escorted him into Latner’s office.
He stood and extended his hand. “Mr. Lowell, how nice of you to drop by again so soon.”
Lowell reluctantly shook the damp hand and then sat.
“What brings you back to my neck of the woods?” Latner took a handful of M&Ms and threw them into his mouth.
“The Bowie Bonds.”
If Lowell expected a reaction he was disappointed. Latner sat back and put his hands behind his head.
“Now, what’s this all about?”
“When I was here last week you led me to believe that the bond Freddie had taken out was ‘as good as gold,’ I believe is the term you used.”
“And it is. After our chat, I called Goldman Sachs and checked. This quarter it’s paying a dividend above the interest rate.”
“But that’s only because Freddie’s dead and every radio station is playing his music. The bond didn’t pay the full interest for the last twelve quarters and was about to default.”
“I’m sure it’s doing better since Freddie’s demise.” Latner played with the M&Ms, but resisted temptation. “I can’t help it if death is a big seller in America. But I don’t follow what those bonds are doing. I’ve got my hands full just managing the business. You know more about them than I do. I just assumed they were doing well all along.”
“Why did you decide to hold back the release of Rocket Fire’s new album? And why were Redfish’s and Gene’s records held back as well?”
“I talked it over with Gene’s and Redfish’s managers and we mutually decided not to flood the markets with too much new material at once, or to complete with each other.”
“Business as usual, huh?”
“It is a business, and I have to keep running it. If I can guarantee an increase of several million copies sold by waiting a few weeks, why shouldn’t I? If we all released new albums the same month people wouldn’t have enough money to buy them all. So we decided to space them out one a month for three months, starting in September. It was just a smart business decision.”
He succumbed to his addiction and threw a handful of the bite sized goodies in his mouth. “By waiting it adds to the suspense and builds momentum. It’s the same in the movie business, the book business, hell every business. What do they do when they have a new computer game? They talk about it in the press for months, then they release it at midnight on a Friday and everybody goes nuts to own one. That’s what we’ve decided to do.”
“The fact that the decision is good for the bonds doesn’t enter into it?”
“Not in the slightest. Why would it?”
“You aren’t invested in the bond Freddie took out?”
“Oh sure I am. I have a small piece of it, taken out of good faith, but it doesn’t amount to much. Everyone in the organization took shares in the bond. The band-members, the roadies, hell even his wives own a piece. Look it up, it’s all accessible to the public. But you’re not getting the big picture here,” he said, condescendingly. “We’re talking about tens of millions of dollars, if things are marketed correctly. Maybe that’s not a lot of money to you but believe me, the band could use it. This may be the last chance for them to make some real money. They’re not kids anymore and there’s really no future for them.”
“You wouldn’t make out too badly either, would you?”
“No, I guess I wouldn’t do too badly. But like I told you, I don’t really need it.”
“Yes, so you’ve told me.”
“Was there anything else? You’ll forgive me, but we’re extremely busy around here and time is the most precious of all commodities, don’t you think?” He extended his hand.
Lowell got up and shook the damp, limp offering and left.
Chapter Thirty-seven
Mort was inhaling a cup of coffee. Lowell was walking back and forth in front of the window. Buster and Keaton were pacing as well, although at an almost imperceptible velocity.
“Mort, I want you to dig into these bonds. Tell me who owns them, how much they’ve invested, and what shape their finances are in.”
He took the work into his office. An hour later he dropped a few pages on Lowell’s desk. “Like Latner said, almost everyone who knew Freddie had a piece of his bond. Two of his wives own about a quarter of a million each, Jimmy DeAngelo is in for about three million on Freddie’s and about the same on the other two dead rockers, for a total of almost ten million. The band members also own pieces, although not as large. And Latner holds about a hundred grand.”
“Did you get anywhere with Brewster, Warren, and Springfield?”
“Not yet.”
“Keep trying. They’ve got to be somewhere.”
“Are you getting anything from the composite charts?”
“I’m focusing on the band and the managers for now. Some of the combinations are very volatile, and I’m hoping that one will jump out. Wives two and three are certainly an interesting pair. Cross referencing relationship charts is a time consuming affair. And my printer is working overtime.”
Roland called twice that day.
Melinda came in about two. “How’s it going?” Her father’s harried face was answer enough.
“I know I’m close. There are several combinations that may be possible. Gene’s chart does not show the same violent aspects as the other two. Maybe they weren’t all killed for the same reason after all. I’m trying to see this thing from a new perspective now that Mercury is about to change direction once again.”
“How?”
“Well, let’s say two members of the band did it without the others’ knowledge, I must find that combination and remove all others. Once I add a third person that was not part of the equation, it doesn’t add up.”
“Well, I hope you finish soon. You’re starting to look a little weary.”
“It’s been a trying few weeks. I’ll be glad when this case is behind me.”
***
It took another day and a half of comparing, cross-referencing, and scrutinizing, but Lowell finally had the composite chart he sought. He had been right. There was something so incongruous in the mix it’s no wonder it took him so long.
***
It was late afternoon when Sarah and Vivian entered the office. Lowell was deep in thought and making calculations on his iPad. Mort was at the second desk working on a computer screen.
“I don’t want to bother you,” said Vivian, when she saw him. “You seem quite involved.”
Lowell raised his head. “Huh? Oh hello ladies. What? No, you’re not bothering me.”
“It’s done anyway,” said Mort, before Lowell could stop him.
“What is?” asked Vivian.
“The case. He’s solved it.”
Lowell’s head twitched.
This was the moment he had dreaded from the beginning. Until now she had been running on adrenaline, the anticipation of discovery distracting her from the truth. Her father was dead. And now she was about to find out who was responsible. There would be no more distractions.
“It’s not conclusive.”
“But Mort just said…”
“What he meant was that the solution was imminent. I’ll let you know soon, I promise.”
Sarah looked at Mort.
“Mort?”
“I’ve got to go.” He literally ran from the room.
“David, if you know who killed my father, you’ve got to tell me.”
Lowell leaned back in his chair and pulled on his ponytail. “Give me another day, maybe just a few more hours and I’ll tell you everything, I promise.”
“If you know now why won’t you tell me?”
“I’m not one hundred percent sure, and I’ve got to be very careful or we could tip them off and lose them.”
“Don’t leave me out of the loop. Don’t forget, I’m the reason you’re in this to begin with.”
He coul
dn’t say that he was only trying to protect her. That would offend her. If his suspicions were right a lot of people would be hurt. And besides, he had to be absolutely sure. If he was wrong he certainly didn’t want to make any accusations in public. It was better to confront it behind closed doors.
“I’ll tell you what I learn when I return, I promise. I have to do this alone. I’m very sorry.”
It was time.
He walked out the front door and turned left toward the elevators. Vivian counted to ten, and then ran out the door to the right and down the stairs.
Andy was waiting by the curb. Lowell got into the limo and they took off.
Chapter Thirty-eight
Andy pulled the limo up to the curb. Lowell opened the back door and got out.
“Stay here,” he told the driver. “If I’m not out in twenty minutes make the call.” He had a deal with Roland and didn’t want to renege on it, but he couldn’t resist the drama of this first confrontation. And he had to be absolutely sure.
He was about to go into the building when Vivian jumped from a cab. “What are you doing here?”
Lowell said nothing.
“Oh my god! Here? If you’re going to face my father’s killer I want to be there.”
“My first concern is your safety. I told you that I would keep you informed as the case went on, and I have done so.”
“Except when it mattered.” She was angry. “How long have you known?”
“I just realized it late last night. And I didn’t want to tell you until I was sure.”
“And now you are?”
“No, not one hundred percent. Something still doesn’t make sense.”
Death in the 12th House Page 18