Evil in the 1st House (10 page)

Chapter Twenty-two

Lowell awoke at five, as he always did. He went into the kitchen and found Julia had left the coffee maker ready to go, as she always did. He pushed the brew button. Then he went to the front door, opened it, and retrieved the
New York Times.
When he returned to the kitchen the smell of fresh coffee permeated the air. He took a mug from the cupboard and poured a cup. He added a spoonful of organic brown sugar, a dollop of milk, and with his coffee and paper in hand, opened the door from the kitchen to the backyard. He was about to close it when Luigi appeared. He looked up at Lowell with his seemingly sad eyes.

“You've got to be walked, don't you? Okay, big guy. Come on. Where's your mommy? Still asleep upstairs, I'll bet.”

He grabbed several plastic bags from under the sink, took the leash that was hanging on the front doorknob, and hooked it up to the dog's collar. Then he took Luigi out and they trotted up Ninety-third Street. When he was done with his business they went back into the townhouse. Lowell picked up his coffee cup and headed toward the backyard, Luigi at his heels.

“You want to come outside?”

Luigi seemed to grin.

Lowell opened the screen door and Luigi plodded down the porch steps. He sniffed around the tiny property marking his territory on the wooden panels.

Lowell put his coffee on the table and sat smiling. “You'd better not let Julia see you do that.” His love of animals was absolute. They could do no wrong. He always tried not to place human restrictions or expectations on his four-legged friends, as so many did.
‘Never get mad at a dog for being a dog,'
he was fond of saying.

When Luigi was done he walked over and lay down with his head on Lowell's feet. Lowell unconsciously leaned over and rubbed his gigantic head. “You are a sweet thing, aren't you?”

He opened the
Times
and began catching up on the world's events. The front page showed a horrific sight he would probably never forget. It was the carcasses of hundreds of elephants slaughtered in the most barbaric ways with their tusks sliced from their bodies. He read the story, his heart racing, his anger swelling up inside. Armed militia, some backed by the governments of small African nations, were using automatic weapons and even grenades to kill these magnificent beasts. The demand for ivory, especially in China with its newly expanded upper and middle classes, had grown to insane proportions. In one nation the elephant herds which had once numbered in the tens of thousands were down to about 500. There had been no pups born for several years, the fear and understanding of what was happening to them took away even the desire to procreate. Elephants, he knew, were highly intelligent creatures who mourned their dead. This once magnificent herd was mourning their own extinction.

He shook his head, put the paper down, and leaned over to rub Luigi's belly, as if some contact with the animal world could alleviate at least a tiny bit of his disgust at his own species. The dog rolled over onto his back, his tongue hanging from the side of his mouth, a smile on his face.

Julia came out of the house. “I'm making breakfast for you, Mr. Lowell.”

“No thank you, Julia. Coffee is all I really want. And how many times have I told you to call me David?”

“Yes sir, Mr. L…David.”

“That's better.”

“They say that breakfast is the most important meal of the day. I've got eggs and toast cooking. I'll bring it out in a few minutes.”

“I really don't…”

“I'll bring it out in a few minutes.” Her determination was unbendable.

Lowell sighed. “Alright, I guess a small breakfast won't kill me.”

She went back into the house. He went back to the
Times
.

Luigi was bored. He began roaming the tiny estate, sniffing everything. Lowell paid him no mind. He was reading the op-ed page when Julia came out with his meal. Two hard-boiled free-range eggs, multi-grain toast, and jam. She placed the tray on the table.

“This looks wonderful, Julia. Thank you.”

“More coffee?”

Lowell looked at his cup, almost empty. “Yes, I could use another.”

She went back inside briefly and returned with a silver pot. She poured some into his cup and left the pot on the table. She turned to go back inside, but something caught her eye.

“What are you doing!” she shouted.

Lowell turned his head and saw what she was looking at. Luigi was digging a hole.

“My rhododendrons. My beautiful rhododendrons. Why, you monster.”

Luigi picked his head up and looked at her, then looked back at the hole. He lay down prostrate, face to the ground, with his front legs stretched out in front of him, a look of chagrin on his mug.

Julia's face was flush. “You wait here, you, you dog you.”

Luigi looked up at Lowell.

He shook his head. “Nothing I can do for you, big guy. You're on your own.”

Julia went inside and returned with a broom. When Luigi saw it, he got up.

“I'll teach you to dig up my garden.” She went for him with the broom, but Luigi was too quick for her. He bolted past her, receiving a passing swat on his backside. She chased him around the garden twice. Try as he might, Lowell could not contain his laughter.

Julia stopped in front of Lowell. She had sweat on her brow. “My beautiful rhododendrons. Oh Mr.…David. Why, why did he have to dig up my garden?”

Lowell could barely contain his amusement. “Because he's a dog.”

“Well, you don't have to enjoy it so much.”

He tried to put on a concerned face. “I'm sorry, Julia. We'll get you new bushes, I promise.”

“Oh whatever. I'll be glad when he's gone. And that woman, too.”

“Yes, me too.” He didn't like his routine disrupted. Still, he did enjoy the company of a dog and wondered if he would ever again own one. He couldn't stand to lose them, and every time he had to bury one of his beloved canine friends it broke his heart. That's why he finally decided on turtles. They live a long time.

Julia lifted the broom and resumed her attack. Finally Luigi leaped up the stairs, past the open screen door, and into the house with Julia and her broom only a step behind.

About thirty minutes later Lowell finished the
Times
, picked up his coffee cup, and headed into the house. He walked through the kitchen and into the living room. Julia was asleep on the couch. The broom lay on the floor next to her. Luigi was also asleep on the couch, his head resting in Julia's lap—the picture of total contentment.

Lowell needed to get to his office and learn more about Officer Sweeney and Mickey Broad, and to find out who was after whom.

And if Dr. Williamson was a killer as Karen thought.

Chapter Twenty-three

“Sarah, get me Detective Wally Samuels in L.A. You'll find his number in the files.”

“Okay, Boss.”

A few moments later his intercom buzzed. He picked up the phone. “Lowell.”

“Hey David, nice to hear from you.”

“Wally, how's the left coast?”

“Still here. Why? Do the stars say it's time to leave?”

“Not yet. But if we don't change our ways, it shouldn't be long before Arizona is beachfront property.” He laughed.

“What can I do for you? I assume this call has to do with our dear Karen Sweeney?”

“Yes,” said Lowell. “I'd like to thank you for dropping her in my lap.”

“Now David, you've met her. Do you think there's anything I could have done to stop her?”

“Tell me about her.”

“She's willful, arrogant, and can be nasty.”

“Uh huh. Is she a good cop?”

“One of the best,” said Samuels. “She's tenacious and focused, and she can take care of herself.”

“That I know.” He told Wally about the carjacking incident.

“That's our Karen, always sticking her nose into everything. She's a whiz at martial arts. I think she's overcompensating for her size.”

Lowell could hear a lighter flick. “Still smoking, huh?”

“I'm trying to quit. I've tried gum, hypnosis, doctors, everything. Hell, right now I've got my office door locked, and I'm almost hanging out my window. I feel like a criminal every time I light up.”

“Good luck with it.”

“You ever smoke?”

“Briefly, in my late teens. But I never really liked it and I quit very early on.”

“Well, I wish I could. Especially living here in L.A. where everyone's into all this health crap. You should see the looks I get.”

“What do you think about all of this?” asked Lowell.

“You mean about Karen being in New York?”

“Yes. Do you think there's something to it?”

He heard Wally take a big puff. “Karen is usually clear-headed and very professional. I know she seems to be a bit of a firecracker, but when it comes to police work she's one hundred percent. But this business is something else. She tell anything about her uncle?”

“Not much.”

“I think it's a difficult subject for her. Mickey Broad was more than just her uncle. Karen's father died when she was about ten and in many ways her uncle filled the void. He was close to his sister, Karen's mother, and would often be at their house. He took Karen to ballgames, and sometimes on stakeouts. I think he's the reason she became a cop. She took his death very hard.”

“So,” said Lowell, “she came east to follow a lead.”

Wally puffed again. “And you want to know if this lead is legitimate or if she's just off the deep end.”

“Something like that.”

Wally cleared his throat. “I can't tell you. Karen has a sixth sense about people. She can sometimes tell right off the bat if someone's lying. But this is so personal I'm just not sure if she's seeing things clearly or not. But I wouldn't reject it out of hand.”

“Okay. What do you know about Mickey Broad?”

Samuels took a puff, and then coughed violently. “Damn.” He coughed again. “I met him a couple of times through the years, mostly at social functions. He came to a retirement party we had for one of our sergeants and, I think, a Christmas party. But I don't know much about him personally at all. Why?”

“It'll help me understand the situation better if I know who the players are.”

“Well, sorry I can't help you there.”

“That's alright. I've got my methods.”

“What do you think of Luigi?” asked the cop.

“He's redecorating my house for me. Thank God I have Julia or I would be losing my mind.”

Samuels laughed. “Well, good luck with it all. And let me know how it works out.”

They hung up.

Lowell buzzed Mort. “Get me the birth information for an L.A. detective named Mickey Broad. He was born in New York, sometime in the fifties or early sixties, I would guess, possibly the Lower East Side.”

Chapter Twenty-four

Karen showed up at the office at about two that afternoon. Mort was just leaving Lowell's office when she entered.

“Karen Sweeney, this is my associate Mort Simpson. Karen's with the LAPD. She's here to investigate the death of her uncle, the detective from L.A. that I mentioned to you. Apparently Dr. Williamson was one of his last clients, and Karen's trying to establish if he had a role in her uncle's murder.”

“Hey, Mort.” They shook hands.

“Nice to meet you,” said Mort, as he exited.

Karen plopped on the couch, a bottle of Poland Springs water in hand, and looked through her notebook.

“I went out to Queens this morning.”

“Did you uncover anything?”

She sipped her water. “My uncle had been to Astoria, I guess that's part of Queens, and I went to the address that I found in his notes. Thanks for having Andy drive me. That's some car you've got.”

“Did you find anything useful?”

She shook her head. “A guy named Christo lives there above a deli. I spoke to him briefly. Swears he knows nothing about my uncle. I'd like to tail him later today.”

“I hope you do a better job than you did with me.”

“Yeah, and I don't think following him in a limo would work too well. I guess I'll take my car out there tomorrow.”

“Do you have a GPS in your car?”

“'fraid not.”

Lowell tugged on his ponytail. “I have several cars garaged near my home. I think it would be better if you used one of them. They've all got GPS. I'm afraid you may get lost. Andy will drive you up there.”

“Thanks.”

She picked up the notebook and stood.

“The sooner I get started the better.”

Lowell picked up the phone and dialed. “Andy, I'm sending Karen down to you. Please take her to the garage on Ninety-second Street and get the Volvo for her.” He was about to hang up. “Oh, and Andy, maybe you should let her follow you back to Astoria. Then she's on her own.”

He hung up. “You're all set.”

“I'd also like to go to my uncle's apartment later and check his mail again. It's on East Seventh Street and Avenue B. I went there when I first got to New York, but I get lost in this city. I know it's downtown, but where exactly?”

“Alphabet City.”

“You're kidding, right? It's really called that?”

“Yep. Avenues A, B, and C in the East Village. I think I'll accompany you when you go, if you don't mind.”

“Not at all.” She stood and looked at the time on her phone. “Let me see how this goes with the tailing. How about if I call you when I'm done?” She programmed Lowell's cell number into her phone and left.

A few moments later Mort returned.

“What do you think of our guest? Any psychic feelings?”

“Karen?” Mort furrowed his brow. “I think she's just what she appears to be. A hard-nosed cop with an attitude. I think she's a straight-shooter, don't you?”

Lowell nodded. “Yes, I agree. She seems down-to-earth, at least as far as her work goes. And Samuels in L.A. spoke highly of her.”

Mort raised his eyebrows. “So you're wondering if she might be onto something with Williamson.”

“It's hard to ignore the inconsistencies in his story.”

“Let me see what else I can dig up about him.” Mort turned to leave.

“Oh, and Mort, see what you can learn about her uncle Mickey Broad.”

Mort turned back. “The PI from L.A.? Okay. I already gave you his birth info. Anything else in particular?”

Lowell tugged on his ponytail. “Find out what kind of a detective he was. Was he any good? Did he solve most of his cases? That kind of thing.”

Mort nodded. “I'll do a workup on him. Have you looked at his chart?”

“Not yet,” admitted the astrologer. “I've been too busy with the embezzlement case. Let me put in his birth information.” He turned to his computer screen.

“Okay, Boss. I'll do that workup on the uncle. I'll check in with you later.” He left.

Lowell worked for a while but about an hour later started to lose his concentration.

It was eerily silent in the office.

Lowell sat on the couch, lost for a moment in the calm. He knew that the Moon had gone Void of Course a few minutes before, a time of disconnection. Bad for worldly events, but very good for spiritual ones. Lowell wasn't a particularly patient man and preferred action whenever possible. But sometimes you had to wait for the information to come to you.

He got up, buzzed Sarah four times to let her know he wasn't to be disturbed, took off his shoes, sat on the couch, and drew the forefinger to the thumb on each of his hands. Then he closed his eyes and began to meditate. Tranquility engulfed him and his heart rate and pulse slowed to a fraction of their usual speed. He rode the gentle sea of his consciousness atop his mantra, momentarily serene in the oneness of the universe. After about twenty minutes he slowly opened his eyes and allowed his breathing to increase, a little better prepared to deal with the realities of the conscious world.

He got up and walked to the window. He always felt better after a TM session, more relaxed and hopeful. He fed Buster and Keaton and chatted with them for a while.

***

About an hour later Melinda came in.

“Hi, Dad.” She kissed him on his cheek. “I came by to see how things were going, since I'm officially your attorney.”

“Good. There are a few things I need to go over with you.”

He told her about Karen and Luigi.

“You let a strange woman stay at your townhouse? Dad, that's so unlike you. The dog I can understand, but a person?”

“If you saw the state she was in when I met her you'd understand. They were sleeping in her car parked on the street.”

Melinda frowned. “She's lucky she wasn't questioned by the police.”

“She's convinced that Williamson had something to do with her uncle's murder and refuses to leave until she finds out the truth.”

“So what are you going to do with her?”

“I'm going to help her find her uncle's killer as fast as possible and send her back to L.A.”

“Do you think she's right about Williamson?”

“I don't know. But I think you may earn your fee before this is all over.” He turned to the computer. “I was just about to look at the charts of Williamson and his wife again.”

He printed out a handful of charts, and handed Melinda her own set to peruse.

She looked at them for a few moments. “The comparison is interesting and shows a lot of interaction.”

“Yes, but do you see anything unusual about those connections?”

She scrunched her face up. “They're mostly involving connections to the outer planets: Saturn, Uranus, Neptune, and Pluto. Dr. Williamson's Uranus and Pluto are conjunct Gloria's Moon, Sun, and south node. While his Moon and Mercury oppose those planets in her chart. In their composite chart Venus opposes Neptune. These aspects have more to do with how they relate to the collective than the individual.”

“Right. What else?”

“The Sun opposes the Moon in the composite chart. That's the only personal aspect I see, and a Full Moon is usually very difficult in a relationship.”

Lowell smiled. “Exactly. Usually in a marriage chart it is the inner planets, especially the Sun, Moon, Mercury, Venus, and Mars that are positively connected. That allows the couple to interact successfully on a day-to-day basis. Here the only connection between the personal planets is that Sun-Moon opposition, and it won't help much.”

“So wouldn't the lack of constructive and affirmative personal aspects imply that they would have difficulties relating to each other?”

“I would think so. And what Gloria has told me about their marriage certainly makes the point. With outer planet aspects, the marriage would have more of a “fated” sense about it, rather than an easy romantic bond or friendship. Most likely one would try to dominate the other and use the relationship for his or her own personal gain.”

Melinda pointed to the charts. “And with Williamson's chart so obviously one of power and manipulation, we can assume he was the one in control.”

“That a girl.”

Melinda felt like a little girl getting daddy's approval, but smiled despite herself.

“So,” said the student, “this wasn't a very pleasant connection, especially for the wife. Perhaps there is a karmic connection through their children.”

“Perhaps. Let's see where this path leads.”