Tail of the Dragon

by Connie Di Marco

Cheryl sipped her coffee. “Speaking of later, you’ll get to meet Luca tonight.” Luca Russoli was the artist whose show Gale was arranging. He’d arrived on the San Francisco art scene thanks, in large part, to Gale’s connections and public relations savoir-faire. Gale told me they had been introduced at a dinner party given by a local neurologist who fancied himself a collector and she’d decided to take Luca under her wing. I waited. There was something Cheryl wasn’t saying.

  “Have you met him?” I asked her.

  Cheryl pursed her lips. “Yes.”

  “When? Where?”

  “I dropped some things off at Gale’s condo the other night and he was there.”

  “Okay. What are you not saying?”

  “Oh,” Cheryl groaned. “Please don’t repeat this to Gale?”

  “No. I won’t say anything. You didn’t like him?”

  Cheryl waggled her head. “It’s not that. He’s good-looking and he’s very charming and everything, but …” She trailed off.

  “Something gave you the willies?”

  “I guess he’s just a little too smooth for my taste.” She looked up suddenly. “Don’t say it. I know I’m certainly no judge, not after the turd I was married to.”

  “Well, it’s different when it’s someone you’re not attracted to, isn’t it? You can listen to your instincts better.”

  “Please don’t say anything to Gale. I don’t want her to be mad at me. There’s nothing so awful as a friend who doesn’t like your latest love interest.”

  “Ah, so it’s love, is it?”

  “I hope not.”

  “I have great faith in Gale. She’s a smart cookie and can definitely take care of herself.”

  “Not like me, you mean?”

  “No.” I reached across the table and took her hand. “That’s not what I meant at all.”

  Cheryl smiled suddenly. “I have to show you this.” She opened a drawer and pulled out her purse. She rummaged inside and found a small paperback book and handed it to me.

  “What’s this?” The cover was a simple sketch of a lone candle.

  “It’s a book on candle-burning rituals by Raymond Buckland. He’s very famous, you know. I bought a red male-figure candle and I’m going to give it a shot, see if I can attract a passionate man.” Cheryl glanced at me to make sure I wasn’t rolling my eyes. “That’s what I need in my life right now, some passion! And maybe you do too.”

  I sighed. “I’m just not ready yet. Don’t get me wrong, there’s nothing wrong with passion, but I’m too busy with everything else I’m doing now.”

  “Well, maybe it’s something to think about. Who knows? Maybe some tall dark handsome thing will walk into the Eye one day and sweep me off my feet.” Cheryl stirred her coffee. “Of course with my luck, he’ll be short, squat, and ugly, like my ex.”

  six

  I said goodbye to Cheryl and left the Eye, crossing the street to cut through the Stockton tunnel. If I hurried, I’d be able to catch the next bus at the corner of Bush and get home in time to prepare for David’s reading. At the best of times and the sunniest of days, the tunnel is dank, dirty, and filled with exhaust fumes. Two-way traffic whizzed by as I entered the pedestrian walkway. Halfway through, the same feeling stole over me that I’d had outside the Eye. Someone was watching, following.

  The concrete columns of the tunnel stretched into the distance, an alcove between each where anyone could hide and never be seen by a passing car or pedestrian. I turned and looked back. No one. I was alone. Why couldn’t I shake this feeling? Was it just the gloomy tunnel or was I more shaken from the events of the morning than I realized? I continued walking, determined not to look behind me again. I moved as fast as I could, hoping to reach Bush Street and the sunlight. I heard footsteps and turned to look. A shadow, highlighted by the light pouring into the far end of the tunnel. A man. He slipped into a crevice between the columns. My heart beat faster. I wasn’t imagining things. Someone was there.

  Suddenly terrified, I felt a cold sweat start to form on my forehead. Breathless and almost running, I finally reached the end of the tunnel. I turned back once again, certain I was now in a safe zone. A bulky shadow emerged and shuffled along the walkway. A homeless man. Probably more scared of me than I was of him. I breathed a sigh of relief. My heart slowly returned to its normal rhythm.

  A bus was lumbering up the hill. I ran to the corner and climbed aboard with the other passengers, snagging a seat by the window before the bus lurched into forward motion. Half an hour and several stops later, I exited at 30th Avenue and walked the block and a half to my apartment, a small flat on the second floor of a duplex.

  I love my neighborhood. It’s not fancy, strictly working to middle-class, but on the other side of California Street is Seacliff, an exclusive and pricey area that edges out along the cliffs over the Golden Gate straits. Those homes are in the multi-millions, but the land isn’t solid and one mansion actually collapsed into the sea after a winter of heavy rains. My little building is built on bedrock, which helps me sleep a lot better at night.

  Wizard greeted me at the front door, his bell tinkling. I picked him up, hugged him, and carried him up the stairs, rubbing his favorite spot on the top of his head. “Did you miss me?” He yowled in response.

  Wizard is completely black, with green eyes, and weighs about twenty pounds. He’s as gorgeous as an ocelot, and he’s used to having me around much of the day. I knew he’d been confused that morning when he saw me leaving, all dressed up, at an ungodly hour. I opened the pouch of kitty treats and dropped two on his plate. Then I hung my coat in the hallway closet and dumped my purse in the office. My answering machine was blinking. I remembered that Jane, a new client, was scheduled for the following week, but I needed to reschedule Celine. I wouldn’t be able to fit her in this week at all. Howard, a regular client, lives in Los Angeles and I could handle his reading by phone sometime this weekend or next week.

  There were three messages, all from Celine. She was a young mother who had given birth to twins six months earlier. She was currently suffering through a Saturn transit to her Moon. Not an easy transit by any means, but certainly not the worst. She’d visualized motherhood as something out of a glossy baby food commercial, and she wasn’t doing well reconciling dirty diapers, rash-pocked bums, and complete exhaustion with her vision. I felt slightly guilty about putting her off, but she’d been to see me twice already about the same transit, and any advice I would give her now would be the same as I gave her then. She had perhaps a week and a half to go until she was out of the woods. I found her number and dialed it. It rang four times and I waited for her voicemail, hoping to leave a message. No such luck. Celine picked up at the last moment.

  “Oh, Julia, where have you been? This Saturn transit is just awful!” I could hear one of the twins wailing in the background. “Can I come see you tomorrow?”

  “I’m so sorry. I can’t do it. Something’s come up and I’m totally booked this week.” Working nine-to-five wasn’t going to leave me enough time for my clients.

  “Oh, I know how busy you are. But I need another pep talk. I’m exhausted, I’m depressed, and I’ve started to talk baby talk to my husband. I’m in trouble! Is there any way to stuff these monsters back in?”

  “I don’t think so.” I laughed. “Look, I’m happy to see you next week, but I don’t think there’s anything new I can say. You’re going through a lonely time right now, but it’ll be over soon.”

  “I don’t care. Just talking to you about all this stuff helps me so much!”

  “Okay. Next Monday then.” I crossed my fingers, hoping that nothing would go wrong and my agreement to work at the firm would be over. Under the circumstances, I didn’t feel I could bail out on David now. “How about noon? Can you get some help with the babies?”

  “Yes, I can ask my mom. She’ll come over if I need her. I just need a break
so bad. I feel so damn isolated.”

  “I guarantee you’ll be fine. Keep your chin up and we’ll have a good session next Monday.”

  “Okay, thanks, Julia.” She sounded somewhat brighter with my encouragement. “I’ll see you then.” I suspected Celine would dial another astrologer or psychic to get her through the week as soon as we hung up. So be it. I turned on the computer and opened my astro program to view the Meyers family’s charts.

  Under the circumstances, it wouldn’t take a genius to figure out what was on David’s mind—Jack’s murder, the death threats, maybe even the stability of his firm. I checked the current transiting planets against his natal chart and then checked his solar arcs and progressions. There it was. I remembered seeing this coming a year ago, but I hadn’t wanted to bring it up ahead of time. Transiting Pluto in Capricorn was moving through David’s sixth house and conjuncting his natal Saturn. Neptune by transit was approaching his Moon and Mars in Pisces in the eighth. He was definitely under a great deal of pressure, perhaps even betrayal, in his career life. His health could be affected because of the sixth house transit. I printed out a color-coded triwheel chart showing the natal positions in the inner circle and the transiting and progressed planets in the outer circles. Then I lit a cone of incense and placed it in the belly of my bronze Buddha on the hallway table. My little ritual before a client arrives. I’m convinced my Buddha protects my home and hearth. No sooner had I done this than the doorbell rang. I hurried down the stairs and opened the door.

  “Julia, I really appreciate your time.” David had changed into a pair of casual slacks and a windbreaker.

  “Come on up.” I ushered him into the office, where he sat in the client chair next to the desk. “First of all, before we start, how’s your health? Have you had a thorough checkup recently?”

  “What? Oh yes, just two weeks ago. I’m fine and Caroline’s fine.”

  “Good. I wanted to eliminate that possibility.” I shifted the monitor toward him and pointed out the relevant transits. “You have some tough things going on right now.” I explained the transits in as simple a manner as possible. “Your tenth house cusp is Aries and that’s ruled by Mars. The tenth is all about your public standing, your career, your firm. Neptune is transiting your natal Mars and Moon. Neptune transits are associated with strange nebulous occurrences, things that are hard to get a handle on, perhaps even sabotage of some sort. The combination of Pluto moving through the sixth house and the Neptune connection to the Moon makes me think that possibly a woman, even a woman at the firm, might be involved.” I hesitated. “I did see these coming up last year and planned to call you. In light of what’s happened, I should have touched base with you sooner. I hope you’ll forgive my editing. I didn’t want you to worry ahead of time.”

  David waved away my apology. “Could you have predicted a murder?”

  I shook my head. “I don’t think it would have even occurred to me. Sabotage, slander, secret enemies perhaps, but not murder. Of course, I don’t have everyone’s birth information and haven’t seen Jack’s chart, so I don’t know. But murder … Did these threats first appear about three weeks ago?”

  “Yes. How did you know?”

  “Well, that’s when Mars—”

  “Oh, never mind,” he laughed. “I should have known. When the first threat came to my attention, I guess I dismissed it, but when the second one arrived, I called one of my old friends from law school. He does criminal work, and he put me in touch with someone in the District Attorney’s Office as well as the police.”

  “What did they suggest?”

  “That it’s a crime if we could find out who sent them. But I assumed it was just some crank who had no intention of acting on the threats. I considered maybe the intent was to unnerve people or harass them. They could be completely unrelated to Jack’s murder.”

  I didn’t want to say anything, but personally I thought that was too much of a coincidence. “The sixth house is what we used to call the house of ‘servants,’ or, in modern terms, ‘employees.’ It’s also the area of life related to the work you do on a daily basis, unlike your career, which would be more of a tenth house arena. The moon is a female symbol. So that whole Moon-Neptune thing could represent a woman or manifest through a woman.”

  “I hope you’re wrong, Julia. I hope it’s not internal. That would put a whole new slant on it. Are you saying it could even be an attorney who’s sent these threats?”

  “Possibly.” I sighed. “I agree it’s a dark problem, but I also think it’ll come to a head within a week. Both these transits will have reached those exact positions and moved on by then.”

  David stared at the computer printout. “You’re saying things haven’t come to a head?”

  “Not yet.” I shivered involuntarily as a chill passed through the room.

  seven

  After David left, I rummaged around in the kitchen to see what I had to eat. I don’t keep a lot of food at the best of times, but my grandmother, Gloria, who’s a fabulous cook, is always packing up containers for me. Those were in the freezer and I didn’t want to spend time thawing them out. The pièce de resistance in my refrigerator was a large hunk of sharp cheddar cheese. I dug a box of crackers out of the cupboard, and yes, I had yellow mustard. Just the kind of nutritious snack I craved. I sliced the cheese, laid it on the crackers, and liberally squirted mustard over everything. I managed to pop one bite in my mouth before the phone rang.

  “Julia?” It was my grandmother. “I tried your cell but you didn’t answer.”

  “Oh, I had a client here. Sorry. I had to turn it off.”

  “I just saw the news on TV. There was a murder at David’s firm?”

  Oh no. Jack’s murder had hit the news. “Yes. I meant to call you this afternoon. I’m sorry.”

  “But weren’t you there today? You said you were going to fill in at the firm!” I could hear the first hints of panic in Gloria’s voice.

  “I was there, but it actually must have happened some time over the weekend. I’m fine. There’s no need to worry. David closed the office and I left early.”

  “Well, I hope he plans to keep it closed! You’re not going back there, are you?”

  “I don’t know what’s going to happen tomorrow. I’ll go back in the morning, but the office may not stay open. I really don’t want you worrying about me. Please.”

  My grandmother sighed. “Well, I do, dear. That’s my job.” I smiled in spite of myself. I wanted to reach through the phone line and give her a great big hug. “Stay in touch this week, will you?”

  “Of course, and I’ll see you Thursday night.”

  “Kuan says he’s planning a special treat for me but he won’t tell me what it is.”

  I knew whatever party he organized would be perfect. “Well,” I teased, “you’ll just have to wait and see.”

  “I’m not very good at that. I get so impatient.”

  “He’d be so upset if you spoiled his surprise.”

  “I know,” she grumbled. “Make sure you call me this week. I don’t like to think you could be in any danger, darling.”

  “Nothing’s going to happen to me. I’ll be very safe there.”

  “You better be. Otherwise I’ll go right down the street and give David Meyers a piece of my mind.”

  I sighed and replaced the phone. I hated to think of Gloria worrying about me. She deserved a peaceful life. So did I, come to think of it.

  The doorbell rang. My first thought was that David had left something behind. I hurried down the stairs to the front door. I hesitated as I saw a woman’s figure through the glass. Maggie! It was Maggie.

  I threw the door open and we hugged. Michael’s sister and I have gotten along famously from the first moment we met. Maggie probably understands better than anyone how I feel since Michael’s death, and even though we don’t stay in touch as much as w
e used to, every time we meet it’s as though no time has elapsed at all.

  I stepped back and took a good look at her. She wasn’t smiling. “Maggie? What is it?”

  “Can I come in?”

  “Of course. Yes.” She was quiet as we climbed the stairs. She headed straight for the kitchen and sat down at the table. I joined her. “What’s wrong?”

  “Something’s come up.”

  “About …”

  “Yes.” She didn’t have to say it. I knew she meant Michael.

  “What’s happened?” Part of me hoped against hope that we might find an answer some day about the hit-and-run. Another part of me just wanted the sadness and unknowingness to go away.

  “Let me try to tell you in some kind of order.” She took a deep breath. “Do you remember the elderly man who used to live across the street from Michael’s old apartment?”

  I nodded. I did remember. Michael’s apartment at 45th and Taraval was just a few blocks from my old place in the Sunset District. “Michael and I used to see him when he walked his dog. And then”—I shrugged—“there was a time when we didn’t see him as much.”

  “Well, I think what happened was his son took the dog because it became too much for the old guy. But the dad didn’t want to leave his home so the family arranged some care and a companion for him.” I waited, not sure what Maggie’s story had to do with Michael. “Apparently, the old man was always taking pictures. He wasn’t any kind of a real photographer, but he liked to do that. He was always fooling around with his camera.”

  “Yes, I remember now. He’d even take pictures of the flowers in his yard.”

  “He died a couple of weeks ago. And his son and his daughter-in-law are putting the house up for sale. They’ve been there every day, moving stuff out and selling a few things to the neighbors. The thing is … they found a box of photos. The father had an old-fashioned camera that he used, and then he’d—”

  “Maggie …” I couldn’t imagine where she was going with this story.