The King of Swords (max mingus) (22 page)

J
une 1981

'
Tarot cards are used in the art of divination, commonly known as fortune telling. They've been around since the fifteenth century, and are thought to have originated in Italy, although fortune telling itself is older than the Bible. The books of Leviticus and Deuteronomy rail against fortune tellers. And in Chronicles, one of the reasons King Saul dies is because he asked a medium for help. You could even say it's the oldest faith,' Phyllis Cole explained to Max in a room at the Tuttle Motel on Collins Avenue, where she taught card-reading and palmistry classes on Thursday nights. She was a professional psychic who also helped cops with their investigations. Max had never used psychics himself, but it was a common, if not publicized practice, especially in missing persons cases. Phyllis had a good reputation: she'd found several people, although they'd all turned up dead.

'There are seventy-eight cards in a tarot deck. They're divided into two groups-Major Arcana and Minor Arcana,' she continued, laying out four on the table. 'There are twenty-two Major Arcana cards; they signify life's prime forces, things over which we have no control-twists of fate, acts of God, the intangibles, the imponderables. They're results too. You're probably familiar with some of them, on account of seeing them on TV or movies-Death, the Devil and the Lovers. None of these are meant to be taken literally. Take a look at the design. What do you see?'

She passed the Death card over to Max, who was sitting opposite her at a table at the end of the room. He saw a giant grinning skeleton in black armour riding a white horse. The horse was trampling over a body. In front of it stood a cardinal in his mitre and robes, hands clasped together in prayer and supplication, while two children knelt beside him, one looking up at the skeleton, the other looking away in fear.

'Oh, I know, I know,' she said before he stated the obvious. 'Looks like a scene of devastation, doesn't it? But look to the right of the picture, behind the horse's head.'

'A rising sun,' Max said.

'Exactly.' She nodded. 'A rising sun. A new day. After the end, a new beginning, a fresh start; change, regeneration. That's what the card symbolizes-one door closing, another opening. And if you look at the rest of the background, you'll see a waterfall, symbolizing the constant flow of life.'

'And tears too, right?' Max said.

'See? You're learning.' Phyllis smiled warmly. She was a short, large, but not unattractive, woman who wore her hair in an almost militaristic afro, cropped close around the back and sides, but higher and pointed on top. It shouldn't have suited her, but it did.

She put the cards away and picked out eight new ones from the deck, laying them face up so Max could see them.

'This is the Minor Arcana, which closely resemble traditional poker cards. There are four suits-Swords, Cups, Pentacles or Coins and Wands or Batons. Playing cards are also used in fortune telling, and when they are, Spades are taken to mean Swords, Hearts are Cups, Clubs are Pentacles and Diamonds are Wands.

'Like playing cards, the number suits run from an Ace to a Ten. Swords represent aggression and drive, as well as pain and suffering; Cups are the emotions; Pentacles symbolize money and all that goes with or without it; Wands mean ideas and creativity, as well as communication.

'Now, the main difference is in the court cards, of which there are four in tarot-King, Queen, Knight and Page-as opposed to just three. The court cards represent people, seniority usually reflecting their age. Except for the Queen. She can be any age.'

One of the cards Phyllis had put out was the King of Swords-a scowling man in robes, sitting on an ornate stone throne, holding a huge sword in his left hand. His right hand was clenched into a fist. Around him, in the background, much smaller than him, were three trees and low-lying clouds. Max understood the card represented someone who dominated with aggression, but-peering closer at the King's wary sideways glance-also someone who was always looking over his shoulder to make sure nothing was sneaking up on him from behind.

'So Swords are bad cards to get?' Max asked.

'Yes and no. It depends where they turn up in a reading. The Ace of Swords, for example, turning up in the middle of good positive cards can mean a heroic triumph over adversity. But the Three of Swords means heartbreak, and the Eight, Nine, and Ten are all bad news.'

Max considered the King of Swords a lot more closely. What was it doing in two people's stomach? Was it a sign, a message, a calling card or part of a potion?

'Now, do you want to know how these work?'

'Please,' Max said.

'Would you like me to read for you?'

'No thanks, mam.'

'You don't believe in it?'

'Not really, no. No disrespect meant or anything.'

'None taken.' She shu?ed the cards overhand, but considered him curiously, like she'd noticed something new about him. Max sensed a gentle pleasant warmth behind his neck, close to the nape, as if he was being massaged.

'Tarot readings can be like confessionals. Do you go to church?'

'Sometimes,' Max admitted, 'but not for the religion.'

She frowned.

'I go there to think things through occasionally, when I need peace and quiet.'

'To reflect but not to pray?'

'Yeah.' Max nodded. 'Something like that.'

'To help solve your cases?'

'The difficult ones, sometimes, yeah.'

'And do you solve them?'

'As a matter of fact, when I'm there I find I'll remember things I missed.'

'But do you think it's God shining his light in those dark corners of your mind, wiping away the dust?'

'I really couldn't tell you.'

'You didn't say "no", Detective, which is interesting. It's a short step between the church and what I do, you know.' Phyllis smiled. 'It's all part of the same path…But anyway, I respect your wishes. We'll do a hypothetical reading.'

She put on her glasses and picked out ten cards. She arranged two in the middle of the table, one crossing the other, then she quickly placed one above and one below the cross, then one card on either side of it. The last four tarots she laid down to her right, vertically, one over the other.

She circled her hand above the group of tarots on the left. 'This first set of cards represents the present, and these'-she moved her finger up and down over the upright line on the right-'going up, represent the future. Now, let's break it down.

'The two crossed cards in the middle represent the petitioner-that's the person you're reading for.'

The Knight of Swords, riding a white horse, charging into battle, sword aloft, face frozen in aggression, was crossed by the Two of Cups, a young man and woman, each holding a golden chalice, reaching out to touch one another's fingers.

'Typical boy meets girl scenario, from a male's perspective,' Phyllis said. 'The card behind them, the Six of Wands, represents the recent past, what's brought them to this point: news, communication, a letter, a phone call. The one above them, the Queen of Cups, represents what the petitioner hopes for the most. In this case, the Queen of Cups is the woman of his dreams. The card below, the Three of Swords, is what the petitioner's worried about-a broken heart. And the last card in this section, the one in front, is the Three of Cups and shows the present moving into the future. It may be a celebration. A happy time.

'When you read them, you read them in the order you placed them. Tell me what you see, Detective.'

Max studied the cards, which she'd laid out so that they faced him.

'The Knight of Swords is an aggressive young guy. Like a younger version of the King of Swords, always going to war. He meets this girl he thinks is everything he isn't, and that maybe she's better than him, so he's afraid of getting his heart broken if he goes after her. They've been in touch with each other though'-he pointed to the Six of Wands and then moved to the Three of Cups-'and they've made a date to go to-a party?'

'Very good.' Phyllis clapped. 'You're a natural.'

Max thought it wasn't exactly brain surgery, but he smiled at Phyllis instead of speaking his mind. Then he thought of Sandra, who he'd met twice for lunch close to her workplace in the past two weeks and studied the cards more closely. The Six of Wands-half a dozen branches seemingly falling through the sky-reminded him of rain.

He looked at Phyllis again and got a knowing smile from her.

'You understood that the cards tell a story. Most people, when they start out as readers, take it one card at a time. Not you. You got a girl in your life?'

'Not really, no. Why? D'you see one for me?' he asked her. The times he'd met Sandra had been brief, but he'd sworn she'd been a bit warmer to him when they'd first met than these last two times. Their lunches-sandwiches and coffee in Avi's Diner on Flagler-had almost been formal, the talk small and polite, her attitude aloof and distant. Yet it was she who'd made all the moves. She'd called him up both times and fixed the where and when. He'd gone there all excited, like the teenage geek who's bagged the best-looking cheerleader in his school, yet he'd come away uncertain as to whether she felt anything for him beyond curiosity. It was an odd position he found himself in, vulnerable and open to hurt in a way he hadn't been since his youth.

'I thought you didn't want a reading,' Phyllis replied, putting away the cards.

'Guess not,' Max said. 'So, how many different kinds of tarot cards are there?'

'All kinds. The one we used here is the Rider-Waite deck, probably the most common and popular, on account of its simplicity, but there are literally hundreds of designs. You can get the ones with Native American Indians, crows, cats, dogs, vampires, comic-book superheroes, old movie stars, baseball players-you name it. They're all based on the Rider-Waite system. There are some exceptions though. Have you heard of Aleister Crowley?'

'Yeah. The devil worshipper, right?'

'That's him. He designed a deck called the Thoth Tarot. It incorporates a lot of Egyptian symbolism in the designs. Then there's also the Golden Dawn Tarot, the Tree of Life Tarot and the Cosmic Tarot, each with a variation in the way they're interpreted.'

Max pulled out three black and white morgue photographs of the card taken from Preval Lacour's stomach, the scraps fitted together to make a whole.

'Seen this one?' Max handed her the photographs.

Phyllis studied them for just a second.

'My God! That's from a de Villeneuve deck!' She was almost breathless. 'Where did you find this? And why's it been cut up like that?'

'It was found in someone's stomach.'

'Someone ate this?'

'Ate, swallowed, force fed. We're not sure yet.'

'These are very rare cards. Very exclusive. Very expensive.'

'How much do they go for?'

'Five grand a deck, the last I heard, and that was a few years ago. They're not easily available. They're only printed once a year in Switzerland. And they're made to order. Cash upfront.'

'What's so special about them-apart from the price? Why's the face missing'

'All the faces are missing. That's one of their unique qualities. Not just anyone can use them. Only certain people.'

'Like who?'

'People with…a very special gift.'

'Can you use them?'

'I wouldn't go near them,' Phyllis said.

'Why not?'

'Did you ever hear of someone called Kathleen Reveaux?'

'No.'

'She was a well-known card reader, quite famous even. She'd been on TV a few times, accurately predicted Nixon's downfall, defeat in Vietnam, the attempt on Ford's life. I knew her very well. She bought a de Villeneuve deck at an auction in New York. She tried using the cards and the images on them turned hostile.'

'What do you mean?'

'She said she saw monsters, great beasts with blood-red eyes and white fangs. I told her to burn the cards immediately. But she had a wilful, stubborn side and she persisted with them.'

Phyllis stopped talking and tears began to gather in her eyes. She took off her glasses and dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief.

'What happened to her? If you want to tell me,' Max said.

'She took her life. She threw herself off the Freedom Tower. You must have heard about it?'

'Was that in '78?'

Phyllis whispered, 'Yes.'

'Yeah, I heard about her,' Max said. He remembered the incident, but not well. It was deemed a spectacular suicide, given the location, but a suicide nonetheless. A deranged woman who'd died alone. It made a change from the two most common kinds of death in Miami at the time-cocaine cowboys killing each other and everyone in-between, and South Beach retirees checking out of God's waiting room-but those were the only things about Kathleen Reveaux's death that had registered. He hadn't even known her name until now.

'I spoke to her a few days before,' Phyllis said. 'Kathleen told me the cards were speaking to her, compelling her to…to kill herself.'

'She heard voices?' Max asked.

'Just like psychotics do, I know.'

'What kind of voices?'

'Actually it was just the one voice. A man's voice. She said he had a French accent. And every day the voice got louder and louder, until I presume it was all she could hear and all she could listen to.'

She broke off and stared out of the window into the darkness outside.

'Who was this de Villeneuve?' Max asked, bringing her gaze and attention back to the photographs on the table.

'A lot of rumour and conjecture surrounds him,' Phyllis began. 'What is known for sure is that he was a painter in the court of the eighteenth-century French king, Louis XVI. He made a good living painting flattering portraits of the nobility. He was a favourite of Marie-Antoinette, Louis' wife. Some claimed he was also her lover. But there was another side to him. He was a reputed devil worshipper, and-unlike Crowley-he was said to be the real deal, capable of summoning Lucifer himself from the depths.

'The story went that Lucifer granted him the power to change his appearance. He could become whoever he wanted, male or female. He had the power to walk through any wall and open any door. He made a lot of use of this to further his position and influence in court, taking on the appearance of husbands, wives and mistresses, hearing every dirty little secret in the realm, which he passed on to Marie-Antoinette.