Death in the 12th House
Page 21
“Hey,” said Bobby on the way out, “let’s have lunch.”
***
All Lowell wanted to do now was gather his things and head home. He required nothing more than a cool shower and a few days lounging around the townhouse in jeans and a t-shirt. He longed to sit in his backyard beneath the sycamore tree and read the Times at his leisure.
He spun his chair around, leaned back, and looked at the Empire State Building glistening in the distance.
Sarah came in carrying a checkbook. “What do you want me to do with the check from Vivian Younger?”
He turned the chair around to face her. “The same as always.”
She nodded. “I assumed as much.”
She ripped out a check, which had no name or address printed on it, and wrote it for the exact amount as the fee, made it out to the police retirement fund, and sent it off anonymously.
“I read Shibumi,” she said.
“You did?”
“What a sad story.”
“Women only see the emotional side of the parable.”
“Got any other books you would recommend?”
“Sure, I’d love to make out a reading list for you.”
“It’s a sad business.”
“What, the music business?”
“The human business. What do you think it is, a comedy or a tragedy?”
“It’s both at the same time. It’s up to us which way we want to view it.”
“Anything can be funny?”
“Well, maybe not funny exactly, but used to your advantage.”
“Like the fruit?”
He nodded. “If you break your leg in early July you can bitch and moan about how much summer fun you’re missing or you can try to write a novel. Either way your leg will still be in that cast.”
“Pollyanna,” replied the red head.
“No, I’m too realistic to be called that.”
“What then?”
“A seeker.”
“Of what?”
“Shibumi.”
She thought about that for a moment, and then nodded. “Look, if you need me you’ve got my cell phone. But do me a favor and don’t need me for a few days. I’m going to be with Philip.”
“Philip?”
“Vivian’s chauffeur,” she giggled. “You knew, didn’t you?”
“I knew there was a good chance someone new would be coming along and I figured it would look a lot better than your worn out relationship with Rudy.”
“Well, you were right again.”
“It was your free will that made it happen, always remember that.”
She picked up her purse and was about to leave. She hesitated.
“I just wanted to say,” she stopped to gather her thoughts. “I just wanted to say that this is fun, all of it, even the scary parts. I would have been stuck working as a social worker and fighting for my life on the subway every morning. I could never ask for a better job. Thank you.”
She kissed him on the cheek and started to leave.
“You’re welcome. Oh, and Sarah…”
She turned back.
“Would you please take these flowers out of here?”
Chapter Forty-four
The heat finally broke on Friday. Lowell was in the office in the basement of his townhouse finishing the report on the case.
They had found Latner and Gleason off the coast of Key West in a small fishing boat heading to the Caymans, as Lowell had predicted. Roland was able to gather enough physical evidence for an indictment and a conviction was virtually guaranteed. He didn’t envy them. Freddie and Wally had a lot of fans, some of whom were likely incarcerated and might like a chance to express their disappointment directly toward the two.
His encounter with Vivian had awakened long dormant feelings he thought were gone forever. How can such a short interlude alter our perception so much?
He sipped his herbal tea.
Since Robert’s death he had hardened his shell, rarely allowing his feelings free reign. How could he? But now a single unguarded moment of passion had stripped away the façade those walls conveyed, exposing them as the fog they really were, more Neptune than Saturn, more illusion than reality.
Three times he picked up the phone and three times he put it back down. He walked over to the window and looked out at his tiny empire, gazing at the flowers so gently cared for by Julia. He sighed. It had been so long since he had experienced any real emotions he wasn’t quite sure how to process the information.
He felt about sixteen, just the way he had felt right after his first intimate encounter with a woman. He was amazed, and scared, and just a little ashamed all at the same time.
But mostly he felt alive. Vivian had awakened a primal need for companionship that had been denied since his divorce. “The man is nothing, the work is all,” he was fond of saying. But in some ways maybe that philosophy had come to serve as an excuse not to open up to another person. Vivian took control and he had followed. He never could have taken the initiative at this age. He owed her more than he could ever repay, the breath of life pushed into a dying soul. To live without connection isn’t to live at all. But we can’t always see it.
In many ways she reminded him of his ex-wife, Catherine, when they first got together: young, beautiful, vivacious, and so very vulnerable. As the years progressed Catherine became stronger and less reliant on his guiding hand. But never less beautiful. They had been drifting apart for some time before Robert’s death. That was just the final push. After all this time he still didn’t know why. But he did know that his defenses had kicked in and he didn’t know how to stop them.
His Sun fell on Catherine’s Moon. That in itself is often enough reason for a marriage. But they had so many planetary connections it would take a two hour lecture to explain it all. And yet, all of that couldn’t keep the marriage going once the egos got in the way.
What motivated people to do what Latner had done? What was the real underlying drive? He had been a wealthy man, before all of this nonsense about the bonds. He didn’t really need the money, so why go so such extremes to get more? And once his scheme failed, was it really worth the weight on his mortal soul to commit murder?
Or was there more to it? Was Freud right and everything was about sex?
Perhaps Latner had defended his family the only way he could. But was it about his daughter, or the years he put up with Freddie screwing his wife? And in the long run, did it matter?
He pushed the tea away, opened the small refrigerator by his desk and took out a Spatan beer and a chilled mug. He opened the bottle and poured the contents into the icy glass, then took a sip. He loved a quote attributed to Ben Franklin: Beer is proof that god loves us.
Latner and Gleason would most likely spend the rest of their lives in prison. The financial repercussions would be felt for years to come, and the already struggling recording industry was being attacked by Internet music companies who used the murders as further proof that artists didn’t need the establishment of the old record industry to create and reach a public. Latner had done even more damage to the business he loved so much.
He took a sip of his beer, sat on the small couch, and picked up the phone again. He couldn’t believe how much he missed her. How he yearned just to hear the sound of her voice. This time he dialed the number and listened as it connected. It rang three times with no response. On the fourth ring he was about to hang up when she answered.
“Hello?”
He didn’t know what to say, what he even wanted. He took a deep breath.
“Hello.”
“David?”
“Yes.”
“How are you? Is everything alright?”
“Hello, Catherine, I was just…thinking about you.”
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Table of Contents
Death in the 12th House
Contents
Dedication
Acknowledgments
Epigraph
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Chapter Twenty-three
Chapter Twenty-four
Chapter Twenty-five
Chapter Twenty-six
Chapter Twenty-seven
Chapter Twenty-eight
Chapter Twenty-nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-one
Chapter Thirty-two
Chapter Thirty-three
Chapter Thirty-four
Chapter Thirty-five
Chapter Thirty-six
Chapter Thirty-seven
Chapter Thirty-eight
Chapter Thirty-nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-one
Chapter Forty-two
Chapter Forty-three
Chapter Forty-four
More from this Author
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