Evil in the 1st House (7 page)

Chapter Fourteen

He took her hand across the dinner table. “You've always been so lovely to me. You're the one true love of my life.”

She smiled. Then the smile faded and she suddenly pulled her hand back. “Oh no you don't. Attitudes and platitudes,” she sipped her wine, “and platypuses. You do this to me every time—you pull me back in. Damn you!” She emptied her glass and reached for the bottle.

Lowell watched silently. She was stepping over the line. He'd seen it a few times before.

The waiter ran over and grabbed the bottle first. “Allow me, ma'am.” He started to pour.

Lowell put his hand up. “A double espresso, please.”

He looked over at Catherine. She grimaced. Then nodded.

“Make that two double espressos,” he said.

After dinner they walked around town, passing the playhouse theatre and houses more than a century old.

She took his arm. “You know, coffee doesn't sober you up. That's a fallacy. It just makes you an awake drunk.”

“I'm still in love with you.”

“David, you have to stop. It's not going to work. We're just so…we've changed too much.”

There was a chill in the air. She pulled the collar up around her neck, and then took his arm again. “You know I still love you. I always will. You're the man in my life, no matter how we describe it. But right now I just can't see us…you know.”

They walked in silence through the underbrush, kicking up the few early fallen leaves as they went.

He wanted to pull his collar up as well, but was afraid to let go of her arm. “We must have walked this path a thousand times through the years.”

“Um hmm.”

“Do you remember that time Melinda fell out of the tree? It was somewhere right around here.”

She held on tighter. “Oh sure. That's when she broke her arm. What a to-do that was!”

He laughed. “What was she, about eleven?”

“That's right. She had just had a birthday party that week. She was always such a tomboy.”

“I remember Robert came screaming up to the house, he was sure she was…” He stopped.

Catherine looked over at him. “It's okay to say it, David. He was sure she was dead. If we're ever going to get past this we have to face it in all of its subtlety. When someone close leaves you forever the feelings seem to never let go completely.” She stopped walking and looked at him. “Losing Robert was such a terrible time. I never thought I'd be able to feel again or enjoy life. But I do.”

David was silent.

She leaned her head on his shoulder. “I didn't mean to blame you, really I didn't. I guess I just had to blame someone. And God is just too convenient a scapegoat.”

“What could I have done?”

“You've helped people in all areas of their lives. You've predicted dozens of world events, prevented your clients from making the worst mistakes of their lives. Why couldn't you have done the same for your son?”

“I tried, but he wouldn't listen.” They had been over this so many times, and each time he hoped would be the last. “Robert never took to astrology the way Melinda did. He wasn't so much a non-believer, he just ignored it. It was his nature to be rebellious, and maybe that was just another way of displaying it.” He took his arm back and turned his collar up. They walked again, disconnected. “I knew the transits and progressions Robert was facing and warned him repeatedly to avoid dangerous situations. But it's exactly under such aspects that one would find himself in the position he did. He saved the life of the bodega owner.”

She nodded. “At the cost of his own.”

“Don't you know that I would gladly give my own life in return for his?”

The tears started to fall from her eyes. She nodded. “Yes, I do know.”

She took his arm again and held on so tightly it hurt. But it was a good hurt. She took out a tissue from her coat pocket and dabbed at her eyes, then shook a little and regained control. They walked for another half hour. The effects of the wine began to wane. “Let's go home and build a fire.”

They walked back to the dark house. As they reached the porch Lowell thought he heard footsteps behind them. He turned quickly, just catching the glimpse of someone scurrying into the woods.
Probably some teenagers looking for a make-out spot.
He thought. But for some reason it left him feeling uneasy.

Lowell went in first and turned on the porch light. “I guess Melinda's still on her date.”

“Are you being a jealous father?” Catherine chuckled.

“No. Actually I'm glad she's out. I don't think she dates much.”

“You see her all the time, don't you know?”

He shook his head. “We don't discuss certain things.”

“Why David Lowell, you've become such a prude. Whatever happened to the fiery, sizzling lover who used to take me into these very same woods and make love to me under the stars?”

“Please, Catherine, the chipmunks are blushing.”

They went into the living room, a large space with very high ceilings and exposed wooden beams. The house was built in the early twentieth century and had an old, solid feeling about it, a structure from a different era, before houses were made of metal and looked like they belonged in a Picasso painting.

The fireplace was huge and had originally been used to heat this part of the house before the oil furnace was installed. David took some kindling and laid it across the base of the fireplace. Then he took four large logs and arranged them in such a way as to maximize the starter fire of the kindling and make sure they all caught the blaze. There was always at least a cord of wood stacked in the backyard, and before he settled down, David made several trips to ensure enough wood to last the evening.

They sat on the floor and watched as the wood crackled and sang. “Do you think we should have a nightcap?”

Catherine thought for a moment. “I'm pretty sober now. I think a cognac wouldn't hurt, do you?”

He went to the bar to the left of the fireplace, took two snifters, and poured them each a Remy. Then he sat back down on the floor and handed one to Catherine.

They clicked their glasses and each took a sip. The hot liquid drizzling down his throat had a relaxing, soothing effect.

“You know,” he said, “I almost never drink this stuff. I only seem to like cognac by a blazing fire. They seem to go together in some strange way.”

She took a sip and looked at her ex-husband, the firelight dancing a minuet behind him. There was something so right about this man, and yet…She sighed. Then took another sip. She was careful, didn't want to get sloppy. She had been drinking quite a bit lately and was a little concerned about it. She didn't want this to turn into a fight, as it had the last time they were together. “David,” he turned toward her. “David I…”

“What is it, Catherine?”

“Why don't you stay until Monday morning?”

“Okay.”

She sipped her Remy. “In the guest room.”

He sighed. “Whatever makes you comfortable.”

Melinda got home about midnight and found her parents asleep under a blue blanket, in front of a dying fire. Rather than wake them, she built the fire up again, made sure it was secured behind the metal guard, and went to sleep.

***

They all had breakfast together the next morning and spent the day meandering through town. Zack joined them for lunch at a local diner and they reminisced. The evening was a quiet dinner at home just for the family. They built another fire and played Clue. David won.

Chapter Fifteen

The ride home was subdued and thoughtful. Melinda fell asleep. When they got on the New York State Thruway, Andy buzzed.

Lowell was in a quiet funk. He picked up the car phone. “What's up?”

“I think we've got a tail.”

Lowell perked up. “Really?”

“I don't know. Let me watch 'em for a few minutes.”

Lowell lowered the partition window between the front and back of the limo so he could talk to Andy directly. “Which car?”

Andy pulled into the right lane and slowed the limo down. He pointed to a blue sedan as it passed them on the left. “I noticed it several times in Woodstock, and they left just as we did.”

They watched as the car put on its blinker and pulled into their lane a few cars ahead of them, getting off the highway at the next exit. They couldn't see the license plate.

Andy shrugged. “I guess I was wrong.”

“Maybe, but he may have realized he was made and got off to avoid suspicion. But who would be following us?”

Melinda stirred. The talking awakened her. “Who's following us?”

Lowell looked at his daughter curled up in a little ball, looking about ten. “Nobody, honey, go back to sleep.”

She did.

They got back to the city at three in the afternoon. Andy dropped David at the office and then took Melinda downtown to her office.

Lowell spent the rest of the day reviewing the information he already had and putting his mind back on track. At five Sarah came in. “I'm heading home. You need anything before I go?”

“No. But I'm leaving too. If you wait a minute I'll walk you out.”

They exited the building and turned left. Although it was still quite warm there was a sharp late summer breeze. Sarah pulled her shirt collar up around her ears. “I could use a drink.”

Lowell looked at his watch. “Me too. Let's go to Morgan's Pub. I'll buy you a cocktail.”

“Okay, sailor. But don't get fresh.” Sarah winked.

***

They sat at the bar in Morgan's Pub, a well-known neighborhood saloon with a decidedly upscale menu. Lowell was very fussy about where he ate and drank. In his youth he had worked for several years as a bartender in Manhattan and knew the truth. Most bars weren't very clean. And bartenders who wash their glasses in the sink behind the bar with the little twirling washing machine didn't clean them at all. The water was never hot enough and the brushes were often filthy. Morgan's gave the impression of being a rundown dive, but Lowell knew that was an illusion to please the bohemian fantasies of the middle-class clientele. The food was top-notch, the staff knowledgeable and affable, and the glasses all went back to the kitchen to be washed.

Sarah's martini glass looked huge. She held it with both hands. “What made you study aikido?”

“I'm not a large man, as you know. As a child I had to fend off bullies and stand my ground.” Lowell took a sip of his Beck's. “I took karate and became efficient at it, but it almost tore my tendons to shreds and I was always in pain. It takes a great toll on the body, especially the legs. Most karate aficionados are half crippled by the time they're fifty, and the truth is, unless you're a real master at it, it can actually be counterproductive. I did earn a brown belt.”

Sarah toothpicked an olive from her martini and nibbled at it. “Isn't that right before a black belt?”

“Yes. Anyway, I knew a guy when I was studying in Boston who was a black belt. He was quite good at it, and usually won the sparring contests. One night he was in a bar and a couple of big guys got fresh with his date. He went outside with them where they clobbered him. Apparently they were also into the martial arts. Put him in the hospital for a month with a broken jaw and some cracked ribs. Had he not been over-confident he might have left the bar without incident, or maybe sought backup.”

“So you took up aikido?”

“It's a much gentler and less intrusive form of self-defense. Of course I try to use all of the knowledge I've accrued from judo, karate, aikido, and common sense, if I get into a physical altercation. And I also use whatever is available to me at the time.”

“I remember how you used the fruit as weapons down in Soho in the rock 'n' roll case.”

He nodded. “Anything can be used as a weapon. You read
Shibumi
. So you understand the philosophy.”

She sipped her drink and nodded. “How does aikido work?”

“It has to do with pressure points, direction, and position more than actual strength. For example, the body bends in certain ways.” He held up his left hand. “The wrist will bend forward quite well, but has less mobility backwards. And if you try to bend it from side to side, there is almost no give. If I can get your wrist into a position where I can manipulate its motion, I can cause you great pain and even a broken bone using very little power. The same is true of all the joints. Anyone can learn the technique, with a little work.”

“Can you show me something now?”

It was still early and the bar was fairly empty. A couple were sipping martinis, a few patrons were watching football. The bartender was at the service bar at the other end of the room chatting with the blond twenty-something waitress.

“Here, stand up and I'll show you a simple move.” She stood. “Grab my right wrist with your right hand.”

She did so. Then Lowell placed his left hand on top of hers holding it in place, twisted his right hand inward around her wrist, and put just the slightest amount of pressure on it. She went to her knees.

“Ow!”

“Sorry, but that was the least amount of pressure I could use. If I had used enough I would have broken your wrist.”

“And it doesn't matter who's stronger?”

“Up to a point. A giant of a man would not easily succumb to something like that. But yes, size is less important than angle, and the proper training.”

“Can I try it on you?”

He sighed. “If you must.”

He grabbed her right wrist with his right hand. She thought for a moment, and then put her left hand on his holding it tight as he had done, twisted her right hand around, and put pressure down, causing Lowell to drop to one knee.

“Okay, not bad for a first time. You can let go now.”

She released the hold. “Wow, cool!”

“Once you have your adversary in a weakened position you must then finish the job with a properly placed punch or kick. Otherwise when he gets up he'll resume the attack more guardedly.”

He took a sip of his beer.

“Show me more.”

“Sarah.”

“Pleeeese?”

He smirked and shook his head. “Okay. Here's another simple trick. Put your hands on my chest as if you're going to push me back.”

They both stood up and Sarah put her hands against his chest. Lowell held his forearms against her hands holding them in place, then leaned forward, bending her wrists backwards just slightly.

Sarah's eyes opened wide. “Wow.”

“Now you try it.”

They reversed the actions and she got it on the first try.

“Holy crap, Batman! Teach me more.”

“Later. I came here to relax.”

They sipped their drinks and chatted about the caseload. The bar was beginning to fill up with weary mid-town workers unwinding after a long day.

Sarah pushed her bright red hair back behind her ears. “That Williamson thing was easy enough.”

“Hmm, yes I suppose so.”

“Well you did find the child in time.”

Lowell tugged on his ponytail. “I hope so.”

“But something is still bothering you.”

Lowell looked her in the eye but said nothing.