Death in the 12th House

by Mitchell Scott Lewis

  Chapter Forty

  The next day Lowell and Vivian were at the precinct.

  As they came into his office Roland held up a copy of the New York Post.

  “Did you see this?”

  “Yes,” said Lowell, “I saw it.”

  “Astrologer Solves Rock ‘n Roll Murders. You did get to see the whole story, didn’t you? If not, I would be happy to read how you single-handedly figured out who the murderer was and lead the inept New York City police right to his door.”

  “Lieutenant, I…”

  Roland held up his hand. “Here’s one line I particularly like: When asked about his role in the case the modest Mr. Lowell replied, ‘I only had a small hand in aiding the police in this matter.’ The modest Mr. Lowell.”

  “But Lieutenant,” interjected Vivian, “that is what he said. You can’t believe that David purposely took the credit.”

  “Heaven forbid.”

  “At least he solved my father’s murder.” She was going to add that she doubted the police would have been able to, but she caught Lowell looking at her, faintly shaking his head, and stopped.

  “I do owe you that,” said Roland. “But you should have called us before you went to Latner’s house. Then at least maybe he and Gleason wouldn’t have gotten away.”

  “You still don’t have them?” asked Lowell.

  “No.”

  “They’re heading for the Cayman Islands. That’s where the cash is. Neptune is most prominent in his chart right now.”

  Roland frowned. “Whatever the hell that means.”

  “That means watch the waterways. He’s going to try to get there by boat, not plane. And don’t worry, you’ll get him. With Pluto about to afflict the ruler of Latner’s 12th house his chart shows a long incarceration.”

  “Well, at least we finally know who did it,” said Roland.

  “What did you get from Frey?”

  “He swears Gene’s death was an accident. It’s going to be hard to get him for that one, as there were no witnesses, no evidence at all. Who know, maybe he’s telling the truth. He also denies knowing anything about Wally’s or Freddie’s murders. He does admit to being part of the bond deal, although he says he doesn’t know anything about the murders or the Cayman Islands.”

  Lowell and Vivian gave extensive interviews to the police. When they were finished he took her back to her hotel.

  “I’m so tired,” she said. “Can we get together later?”

  “Of course. This has been an exacting time for you.”

  He left her and went back to the office.

  Boredom is the worst thing for a thinking person. If Lowell had only a dollar and an impending train ride, he would spend it on a newspaper rather than food, no matter how hungry or thirsty he might be.

  He looked at the messages Sarah had left for him. There were a few astrology clients he needed to call back, but the rest was just nonsense, reporters, TV shows, magazines looking for sensational interviews. There was one offer from the Food Network that made him laugh out loud. Could he possibly join Emeril Lagassi in a show about cooking for the different astrology signs?

  How, he wondered, did we manage to invent an entire culture without substance?

  Chapter Forty-one

  Marty clutched the bag as he slowly walked up the stairs to his apartment. He hated to admit it but he was finally feeling his age. This had been a draining experience. He was tired, tired of it all.

  New York, his home for so many years, was feeling like a washed-up relationship, clinging to the memories of passion when none is left. The sparkle dulled and the gallant struggle turned to rage and frustration.

  Maybe he would go to Nashville. At least he knew some people there. Everyone he knew in New York was either dead or out of work and wished they were dead.

  He opened the door to his apartment.

  “Hi.” Beth was sitting on the futon watching the tiny TV. She looked very cute clad only in his partly closed bathrobe with her long, black, wet hair hanging down over her eyes.

  Marty smiled. “You’re home early.”

  “I had enough of my sister and her kids. Four weeks as Aunt Beth is plenty, believe me. I hope you don’t mind that I came over to shower. I missed you.”

  “I’m glad to see you.” He leaned over and gave her a strong kiss.

  “How have things been? I feel like I haven’t spoken to you in ages. It was tough to get cell phone reception on the Cape.”

  “I know, it’s okay.”

  “You look tired. Want to talk about it?”

  He put the bag on the table. It landed with a ‘clunk.’

  “What’s that?” asked Beth.

  “A piece of my past. Take a look.”

  She reached into the bag and took out a heavy coin. “What is this?”

  “What’s it look like?”

  “Gold.”

  “Bingo.”

  She poured the contents of the bag onto the table. “How many are there?”

  “Thirty three.”

  “What are they worth?”

  “Seventeen hundred each, give or take.”

  “Wow. That’s a lot.”

  “About fifty six thousand dollars.” He laughed. “It used to be a lot of money, but it won’t last as long these days. Still…”

  “Is it yours?”

  “Yep.”

  “What are you going to do with it?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “So where did this come from?”

  “It’s a long story.”

  “I’ve got plenty of time.” She opened the drawer and took out the pot, filled a pipe and handed it to Marty. “Here, you take the first hit.”

  He smoked and then gave it to her. Then he told her all about Freddie and the gold, Lowell and the cops.

  When he finished she was too stunned to speak for a moment. “I never knew you knew Freddie Finger that well.”

  He nodded. “Since we were kids. I knew a bunch of the stars back in the eighties. But what’s the difference now?”

  “Have you thought about what we discussed?”

  “Of course I have.”

  “Well, what do you think?”

  “Do you really want to live together?”

  She was forty-three, he was fifty-nine. If he could provide some security he would jump at the chance to spend his years with her. She was funny and smart, had a good political sensitivity and she really liked his music. But all of his past relationships had failed for the same reason, no money.

  “You know what you’re in store for, don’t you? I’ve never made much of a living, so I doubt that we’re in for wonderful surprises and trips to the Riviera.”

  She smiled.

  “And if you think that I’m easy to deal with on a daily basis, then you’re in for a terrible shock.”

  “Anything else?”

  “Not that I can think of right now.”

  She got up and went to the refrigerator, took out a bottle of grape juice and poured a glass. She put the bottle back in the fridge. “We would have one rent, which we could split. I make a pretty good living. Besides, you don’t look your age.”

  “For how long?”

  “Well,” she smirked, “when you start looking old I’ll just leave you out in the woods.” She sat on his lap and held up one of the coins. “At least we don’t have to worry for a little while. We could consider this an omen, a chance for a new life, maybe use it as a down payment on a small home like we’ve always talked about. What do you say?”

  “If you don’t mind taking a chance on an old man.”

  “So I can take that as a yes?”

  “I guess so.”

  She leaped on top of him pushing him down on the futon and kissed him.

  The phone rang.

  “Leave it,” she said.

  “No, I’ve got to. Things have been so weird lately.”

  He picked up the phone. “Hello?”

  “Hello,” said the voice on the
other end. “Is this Marty Winebeck?”

  “Yes.”

  “This is Gloria Goodman from the New York Theatrical Organization.”

  “What can I do for you?”

  “We were given a copy of your play and music and we’d like to discuss development of the property.”

  “Do you mind telling me how you heard about me?”

  “It was sent to us anonymously. We’re all very excited about the project, and anxious to get together with you to discuss it.”

  If this was a scam to get a few bucks from him he wasn’t about to fall for it. It was better to get the phonies out of the way right at the beginning. “But, I’m an unknown playwright. Why would you want to take a chance on my work?”

  “Well, for one thing,” said Ms. Goodman, “we are very impressed with your project, especially the music. The general consensus is that your melodies and lyrics are extremely fresh and exciting, and that with a little shaking, your book can support your wonderful score.”

  “And, just how much is this going to cost me?”

  “Cost you? Not a cent. Your job is to get the play and score into shape, that’s all. You see, the book and CD also came with a letter promising a one hundred thousand dollar check to help cover the costs of a production, if we all agree on the project.”

  “A hundred thousand dollars?”

  “It’s not as unusual as you may think for patrons to approach small not-for-profit theatre groups and offer to help their friends. It gets their play to the public, and helps us remain in business. You must have some very loyal fans willing to put their money where their mouth is.”

  “I don’t know what to say.”

  “We want you to know that even with the generous donation of your supporters, if we didn’t believe in the project we wouldn’t waste our time or yours producing it. We only put on six productions a year and each one must be up to our standards. The money is incidental, although the offer did get our attention.”

  After taking their address and promising to come by the next day he hung up and repeated the conversation verbatim to Beth.

  “Who do you think it was?” asked Beth.

  “I think that the answer is in the stars.”

  “What do you want to do to celebrate? Let’s go somewhere and try to pay the bill with one of these.” She held up a coin.

  “I know where we should go.”

  “Where?”

  “B. B. King’s.”

  She was surprised. Marty didn’t like going out to live shows.

  “Really? Who’s playing there?”

  “Me.”

  Chapter Forty-two

  The Ivy League Club is an impressive looking building on West 43rd Street. As Lowell turned the corner he spied Vivian talking with another woman and approached.

  “Hi,” he said,” glad you could make it.”

  Vivian kissed him briefly on the lips. “This is my friend Ellen.”

  “How do you do,” he turned toward the brunette.

  “Nice to finally meet you,” said Ellen. “I’ve heard so much about you from Vivian. I’m really looking forward to your lecture.”

  “Thank you,” Lowell was taken aback. It never occurred to him that Vivian would talk about him to her friends, and certainly not to the point of I’ve heard so much about you. “I’ve seen you somewhere, haven’t I?”

  “Ellen is the star of Found, the number one TV show in America.”

  “That’s right. You’re wonderful, I’ve enjoyed your work immensely.”

  “Thank you. That’s so nice to hear.”

  He almost never watched commercial TV and had never seen the show. He must have seen her face in a passing promo and it stuck in his memory.

  They entered the club and took the elevator to the fourth floor. The hallway was crowded with about twenty people milling around, some holding red wine in plastic cups.

  Lowell spied his host, Ed Sutter, and walked over.

  “Nice crowd tonight,” said the astrologer.

  “It seems your notoriety precedes you. They’ve given you the James Madison Room. It’s the biggest one we have.”

  ***

  After the lecture Lowell met Vivian and Ellen and together they escaped the crowd.

  “That was wonderful,” said Ellen. “I had no idea astrology was such a fascinating subject. And you really predicted all those things including nine-eleven and the stock market crash?”

  “Unfortunately, yes.”

  “Why unfortunately?”

  “It only showed me how impotent individuals are to change things.”

  “You tried to warn people?” asked Ellen.

  “I did little to hide my views. I have published a monthly astrology newsletter since 1999 and continued to predict the effects of Saturn in opposition to Pluto in the sky in 2001 on top of America’s ascendant. I was on national radio, TV, and in print anywhere I could. I wasn’t alone. Several other astrologers had come to the same conclusion, to no avail.”

  Vivian smiled. “I think your work is very important and will eventually have a great impact.”

  “Perhaps, if I live long enough. The older you get the more respect you can demand in astrological circles.”

  Both actresses laughed.

  “You don’t know how lucky you are,” said Vivian.

  “Yeah,” Ellen nodded her head, “in our business it’s just the opposite. You reach that age of undesirability and then have to find something useful to do with the rest of your life.”

  “That’s too bad. I find that it takes a lifetime to perfect any skill. My guess is that most actors are better when they are older.”

  “That’s probably true,” said Ellen, “if they could find the roles suitable to prove it.” She looked at her cell phone. “Oh my, I had no idea it was so late. This has been great fun, but I have to run.”

  “Can’t you join us for a drink?” asked Vivian.

  “I’d love to, but I’ve got an early shoot tomorrow. We’re filming in New York all week. Besides,” she smiled at Lowell, “I think you’ve got enough company.”

  ***

  Lowell and Vivian went to Rue 57 on 57th Street and Sixth Avenue and sat at a small table near the bar. A few people recognized Vivian but didn’t approach her.

  She had a Lillet on the rocks with a slice of orange. Lowell had a Beck’s.

  When the drinks arrived he took her hand. “You seem a little distant.”

  “I’m sorry, David, this has all been too much for me, I’m afraid.”

  “I know it must have been hell since he died.”

  “Thank god for you.”

  He squeezed her hand.

  She gently took her hand back and picked up her drink. “I was blind. I knew what people said about my father but I only believed what I wanted to. I never realized how much he hurt people. Larry Latner was family. He would send me gifts on Christmas and my birthday, even before my mother let me see my father. Later he took me ice skating and to museums and came over for holidays. My father looked up to him. I looked up to him.” She sipped her drink. “And I looked up to my father.”

  “And they all let you down in the end.”

  “Maybe it’s time for me to stop looking for a father figure to lean on and learn to rely on myself.

  Lowell felt the pang of imminent loss. She was right, of course. But that was what he had become, another father figure. And as often happened in his profession when he became close to a client, he still had to advise them to do what was best for them, even if it wasn’t always best for him.

  “I need to be alone for a while,” she said.

  “I understand.”

  “I’m going back to LA tomorrow and think through some of this. I may begin therapy again, I don’t know.”

  Lowell nodded.

  “Will you come and visit me?”

  “If you like.”

  She turned toward him. “Yes, I think I would.”

  “You’ll let me know.”

&
nbsp; “I’m sorry this happened when it did. You never let me down. Now I feel as though I’m letting you down.”

  “I’m just glad for the short time we had. I’ll cherish it.”

  “Can we please talk on the phone soon? Maybe when I’ve had a few months to sort through all of this…”

  “Maybe.”

  Chapter Forty-three

  Lowell was tired. It always happened after a case, but this one had been so physically and emotionally exhilarating that the letdown was particularly noticeable.

  Sarah buzzed.

  He picked up the phone.

  “Your buddies are back.”

  The door opened and the three rockers entered.

  “Hey,” said Bobby, “nice job.”

  “Yeah,” said Pete, “I can’t believe it was their managers.”

  “I can,” said Barron.

  “I always told you they were trouble,” said Bobby.

  “Well,” replied Pete, “you should know. You had more than your share of problems with them.”

  “How did you know?” asked Barron.

  “Astrology.”

  The others nodded, respect showed on their faces.

  “So what now?” asked Lowell.

  “For us?” asked Pete.

  “Yeah.”

  “We’ll just keep on touring and recording.”

  “Why would you want to bust your hump at your age? I can’t believe any of you need the money.”

  Barron answered. “You know why we make so much money touring?”

  “I assume it’s because everybody loves your work and probably wants to see you before you retire.”

  “Maybe. But I like to think it’s because they all want to be at that concert when one of us croaks. Can you imagine how much those tickets would sell for on EBay?” He laughed heartily.

  “So if it’s not about the money, and it’s not about the girls anymore, what’s it all for?”

  Barron shrugged. “It’s about the music, just like it always was.”

  “We’ve all got a job to do,” said Pete. “And we’ve got to keep doing it.”

  There was more to it, and Lowell knew it. Remaining relevant in a changing world. But he said nothing.

  “If you ever want to see a show let us know,” said Barron. “You’ve got our cell phones. You never know, you might get lucky and hit the EBay jackpot.”