“Get away from me, you goddamned mutt,” said Samuel. But the dog stayed where he was, and started scratching his absent ear.
“How long were you there?” interrupted Melba.
“Eight weeks.”
“Isn’t that a long time?” asked Samuel.
“Not when the booze has taken control of your life,” said Maestro. “I needed to get it out of my system and start over again on the right track.”
“That must have cost a fortune,” said Samuel.
“Luckily, a kind patron helped me pay the bill. You know I couldn’t have afforded it all by myself,” he said with teary eyes.
“Who was the good Samaritan?” asked Samuel.
“No one you know,” said Melba, and Samuel saw her exchange glances with Maestro.
“I’m really surprised. I never thought of you as a drunk.”
“Everyone has his moments of darkness, friend. I just couldn’t make ends meet. My magic wasn’t paying the bills and no one came to see me for notary work, so I started buying that cheap Gallo Tokay, and pretty soon I was drinking for a living.”
“Besides your gray hair, you look great now,” said Melba. “Are you cured?”
“Unfortunately, being cured is a life-long struggle. I just have to make sure I stay away from it today, then tomorrow, and then the day after,” sighed the Maestro.
“Are you sure this is the right place to be, with that constant temptation?” asked Samuel, pointing to the liquor behind the bar.
“These surroundings are kind of my home. I don’t have any other place to go. Here is where my friends are,” said Maestro. “So far, I’m okay.”
“We’re here to make sure that he only drinks soda water. No one is going to give Bob any booze,” said Melba.
“What’s in that little black bundle over there?” asked Samuel.
“Those are Tarot cards,” said Maestro. “I learned how to use them when I was at the clinic. They’re an ancient way of telling fortunes,” said Maestro, unwrapping them from the black handkerchief.
“What do you mean, ancient? A hundred years?” asked Samuel, looking at the beautifully rendered cards. He pictured Gypsy women in an Old West setting with a sign outside a broken-down shack, agreeing to read one’s fortune for a nickel or a dollar or whatever the freight would bear.
“Hundreds maybe thousands of years old,” explained Maestro. “I figured, since my two businesses weren’t doing so well, I’d spend my spare time learning the ropes so I could create another source of income.”
“How long did you study?” asked Samuel, touching the cards, drawn in by curiosity.
“Almost the whole time I was there. There was a fortune-teller who was also drying out. She had a spare deck of cards, and I found three books on the origins and meaning of the Tarot in Duffy’s library. The fortune-teller makes a living by charging for a reading. She said with my background as a magician, I was a natural. Figure it out. I can do a reading in half an hour. I can do sixteen a day, easy, and I can charge two dollars per session. I’ll have it made.
“That is if you get sixteen takers,” laughed Melba.
“Two bucks, huh?” said Samuel. “Will you do a reading for me at that price?”
“Certainly, young man. Let’s go over here to get away from the crowd.”
“Before you leave this afternoon, talk to me, Samuel. I’ve some news for you,” said Melba, as she got up and walked toward the bar.
Samuel and Maestro sat down at an out-of-the-way table in the rear of the bar, and Maestro shuffled the Tarot cards. They were bigger than playing cards, and each had a human figure or a combined human and animal figure on it.
“You’ll understand more as I help you unravel the mysteries of your life,” he said with such a serious look that Samuel felt it was inevitable he was going to be duped.
“Separate them into three piles and shuffle ’em, not the way you would playing cards, but gently so they have some of your energy on them,” said Maestro, as he took off his suit coat.
“Now take ten cards out of the semicircle I’ve put them in,” he added as he fanned the cards out. “Make sure you give them to me in the order that you picked them.”
After Samuel chose his cards, he handed them to Maestro Bob, who then began to spread them out on the silk cloth.
“You see the first card goes directly on top of and across the second card.
“There’s a process to interpreting Tarot cards, Samuel. Each reading is a voyage of discovery. Only you can know the true meaning of what we see before us. I am just a facilitator here to help you.”
“Okay,” said Samuel, feeling skeptical. “I’m listening.”
“The first card is the King of Wands.”
Samuel saw an impressive figure dressed in a red robe with a crown on his head. He was seated on a golden throne in a green pasture with a lit torch in his left hand.
“This usually signifies a tremendous surge of creative energy. It’s kind of lurking beneath the surface of your consciousness, but it hasn’t been formulated,” said Maestro Bob. “Does that ring any kind of a bell with you?”
“Don’t know yet, keep going,” said Samuel, interested.
“The second card is the crossing card.”
Maestro pointed to the Tower card. It showed a powerful crowned male figure erupting from the sea with a three-pronged spear in his hand. In front of him was a tower on a small island starting to crumble.
“This is the only card that has a building on it. It represents what’s stopping you from getting to your really creative urges. It could be your present job. The idea is that your employment may be stable and constant, and you don’t want to jeopardize losing it,” said Maestro Bob.
Samuel whistled. The magician had hit a sensitive point. He’d never told him about wanting to become a reporter, but it seemed that the card was referring to that. Selling ads in the newspaper didn’t pay much, but he’d held onto the job because it at least offered him a paycheck. “You’ve caught my interest, Maestro,” he sighed.
“The third card is the Knight of Pentacles. It means you go about your business in a diligent and conscientious manner. I would imagine, although I don’t know you well, that you are like a dog that gets hold of a bone and won’t let go. The most important message this card gives is that there is someone watching over you who will help you achieve what you are after.”
“What’s next?”
“The fourth card represents the base of the matter,” continued the Maestro. “This card is the King of Pentacles. It indicates you are on a mission, or that someone will come into your life to help you develop the special talent or pursuit of higher goals you possess but has been asleep within you. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if the same person who is watching over you is also pushing you closer to the limelight.”
That could only be Melba, concluded Samuel enthusiastically. Whenever he would be going around in circles, not seeing the light from any side, she would set him on the right path.
“The fifth card is the Three of Cups. This indicates past influences. This is a letting-go card. It means that whatever way you were heading in terms of career or in matters of the heart, you are letting go and are willing to start on a new path. Let’s take a break here. Please order me a club soda.”
Samuel lit a cigarette and sauntered up to the bar. “Scotch over the rocks and a club soda,” he told Melba, as he caught his reflection in the mirror behind her. When she put the orders on the bar, he impulsively took her hands in his and kissed them.
“What the hell’s wrong with you? Are you drunk?”
“You have no idea what the cards have just told me!” He returned quickly to the table. Maestro Bob was cleaning his fingernails with a small pocketknife. He noticed that Maestro no longer had polished fingernails. He thought the magician had really changed.
“Are you ready to begin again?” asked the Maestro, as he drank half the glass of soda in one gulp. “The sixth card is the Devil. We
call it the card of forthcoming influences.”
The card was menacing. It displayed a creature that was half-human and half-animal with horns and hoofs in a dark underground setting. The grotesque figure held humans on short strings and at the same time it was blowing into a conch.
“I don’t like what I see,” said Samuel.
“It has several meanings. It could mean coming in contact with shadowy and corrupt figures, literally from the underworld.”
“Am I in physical danger?” asked Samuel.
“It could mean that, so watch out. It could also mean there are conflicting forces awakening within you, such as love and sex.”
What did the magician know of his relationship with Blanche? A conflict between love and sex said the crappy card. He always thought that his attraction to Blanche was closer to love than lust, but he had to admit that it had a sexual component, especially at night when he had fantasies about her.
“What else do the Tarot cards say about this woman?” he asked anxiously.
“He who doesn’t get his feet wet never crosses the river. It’s a Slavic saying. In other words, you have to be more aggressive if you want to have her. Who is the woman?”
“No one for the moment. We’re talking about the future in hypothetical terms, aren’t we?”
“The seventh card is the Page of Cups. This is where you find yourself right now. Something new is happening in your life. It’s just beginning.”
Samuel agreed. For sure, it was time for a change. It was time to get out of the basement of the newspaper, he needed another date with Blanche, and he also needed a healthier life. He smoked and drank too much, and he should stop eating those rolls and Chinese soups. In short, he should stop living like an animal.
“Tell me, Maestro, do you say the same thing to everyone?” asked Samuel, nervously.
“I say nothing. You picked the cards and the cards talk. They have their own meaning. It’s what they say,” said the Maestro, “not me. This is the Four of Swords. It has to do with your hopes and fears. It shows you in a time of quiet reflection—a place where you’re weighing things, deciding which way to go and in no hurry, either. It looks to me like you’re building up strength.”
“You’re right about that. The last card says Judgment. What does Judgment mean?” asked Samuel, looking at the golden-haired, crowned woman sitting on a throne with a sword in one hand and the scales of justice in the other. “Am I going to be involved in a lawsuit?”
“No, no, it has to do with the final outcome. It’s a good card for you. That doesn’t mean it’s always good; it depends. But you are about to come to terms with whatever has held you back in the past. It’s like you’re at the end of one chapter in life and ready to start a new one.”
“What else?”
“That’s it for now,” said Maestro Bob.
“You’ve earned your two dollars, and one more as a tip, plus another soda water,” said Samuel, putting the money on the table and ordering him another drink.
* * *
Samuel wandered back to the round table where Melba sat looking out the plate-glass window at the view of the park and, beyond it, the bay, and nursing her usual glass of beer.
“You wanted to talk to me, Melba?” he asked, sitting down alongside her. Excalibur started to get up, but Melba intercepted him by grabbing his collar.
“I have some news for you,” she said.
“Really?”
“The word on the street is that you caught Maurice Sandovich with his pants down.”
“He’s hiding something big in this case, Melba. He got rid of some pages of the Rockwood police report. Those pages showed Rockwood might have been murdered.”
“Take it easy, Samuel,” said Melba. “Don’t get too excited about Maurice Sandovich. He’s small potatoes. He’s been involved in Chinatown graft for a long time. If he did something, he did it on orders from somebody who had him by the balls, or is also involved in one of the rackets he has his fingers in.”
“What d’ya mean, one of the rackets?” he asked.
“Maurice protects a lot of interests in Chinatown. He’s on the Vice Squad. It could be prostitution, drugs, but it’s probably gambling. You have no idea the amount of gambling that goes on in that small area of the city. He makes a good living doing that. So he owes a lot of favors. But the ultimate person or persons you’re looking for isn’t Maurice,” explained Melba. “On the other hand, looking in Chinatown isn’t a bad idea.”
They drank in silence, she, her beer, and he, the last of his Scotch. He’d promised himself he’d only drink two a day, and this was his second.
“Have you heard from Blanche?’ asked Samuel in the most casual tone he could affect.
“Starting tomorrow she’ll be here every day. She says that until Rafael’s case is settled, she’s willing to help me.”
“To clean the bar?”
“No. Rafael is here now, but we don’t know for how long. There are a lot of other things he does that I may not be able to count on from him. I need someone to back me up. This isn’t a job for a single woman.”
“You can count on me, if I can help in any way,” Samuel offered.
“Yeah. I know I can count on you as soon as Blanche shows up,” Melba laughed.
“Don’t make fun of me, Melba. Your daughter treats me like a louse.”
“You have to change the focus, Buster. I heard it didn’t go so well when you went running in the park with her.”
“Did she tell you that?”
“You need to find a common ground that’s not athletics. Something that you both enjoy that doesn’t make you look ridiculous.”
“Does she like music?”
“Depends,” said Melba.
“There’s the symphony, but that’s pretty highbrow,” said Samuel.
“It would be for both of you. How ‘bout the Blackhawk? Dave Brubeck’s there a lot and that cat knows how to do it, and Blanche likes him” said Melba.
“I like ‘m too.”
“You’ll have to start somewhere. There’s also an art theatre near it on Larkin, where they show foreign films. Try that, too. I haven’t raised my daughter in a total cultural wasteland, you know,” said Melba.
Samuel walked to his den, thinking of the Tarot cards.
11
Rafael’s Luck Runs Out
HIRAM GOLDBERG made all the moves he had in his bag of tricks during the final argument of Rafael’s criminal trial. He put on a dark suit and lavender-scented cologne, and he took off his gold chains and cufflinks in order to make the jurors feel sympathy for his client’s social class. His enthusiasm made him almost levitate, and at one point he got so close to the jurors that the judge warned him he couldn’t sit in their laps. He lamented, pleaded, and cajoled, trying to twist the evidence in his client’s favor like a Jesuit would, going so far as to preach the melodrama of the crippled mother, the siblings without a father, and the pregnant wife. He even cried; yet when all was said and done, Rafael was convicted of receiving stolen property.
Rafael had no illusions; he knew where he came from and where his kind stood in the community. Besides, he wasn’t a whiner. He was caught with the goods; that couldn’t be changed. The probation officer tried in vain to get him to talk, but he wouldn’t squeal so that bigger fish up the line could be snagged in exchange for a lighter sentence or dismissal of the charges. Everyone in his community knew that if he did that, the consequences could be fatal.
He stood at the bar with his lawyer, waiting for the judge to pronounce sentence. The courtroom was crowded with his family and friends. He noted that his brother Juan showed up without a pompadour or a chain hanging from his belt, and in a suit and tie. Surely that was on instructions from the lawyer. Sitting with his mother and sisters was his wife, Sofia, who was now big with child. Melba was there with her daughter, Blanche, and Samuel was next to her. Several of his companions from the neighborhood were there to lend him support. They were at once courageous
and nervous at having to show their faces, since they were perpetually trying to escape from the police. To them, as to him, honor was more important than the consequences of a public appearance in front of the law, which was hostile to them.
“Hear ye, hear ye, the Superior Court of the State of California, in and for the City and County of San Francisco is now in session, the Honorable Guido Carduloni, presiding,” announced the clerk.
A young man in a black robe came out of one of the two back doors and took his seat on the dais. He was of medium height, had short black hair, and was clean-shaven. He had a strong jaw line of a boxer, but his brown eyes were amiable. Carduloni had presided over Rafael’s criminal trial; he knew all the details of the case and had painstakingly read the probation report, which he had in one hand. The court file with all his notes was in the other.
Hiram and Rafael were already at the counsel table, and the assistant district attorney was seated at the table next to the jury box.
“As you know, Mr. Garcia,” announced the judge, “this is the day set aside for sentencing. I assume your attorney has explained the procedure to you and allowed you to read the probation report.”
“Yes, Your Honor,” answered Rafael, standing erect.
“Is there anything you want to say before sentence is pronounced?”
“No, Your Honor.”
“Is there any reason why sentence should not be pronounced at this time, Counsel?”
“No, Your Honor, there is none,” answered Hiram.
“Very well,” said the judge. “Mr. Garcia, you shouldn’t be here. But a jury of your peers has found that you violated the laws of this state.
“The district attorney offered to agree to a reduction in your sentence; and frankly, I was willing to go along with it, if you would provide information about the person or persons who actually stole the X-ray machine so they could be prosecuted. But you have refused to even discuss the matter. Therefore, the probation department and the district attorney both take the position that you should be given the maximum sentence. Are you aware of their recommendations?”
“Yes, sir,” said Rafael.
The Chinese Jars Page 11
