Tail of the Dragon

by Connie Di Marco

  A few of the emails were quite intriguing. One woman wrote to ask about the dynamic between her brother, now deceased, and her mother. Her mother blamed herself for her son’s death and was torturing herself with guilt. I could tell by the brother’s chart, with strong Uranus and Mars aspects, that there was absolutely nothing her mother could have done to control her son. The mother had done the best she could and needed to let go.

  I clicked on another.

  Dear Zodia:

  I’ve been happily married for twelve years. My wife is a wonderful woman and a loving wife and mother. For the past few months I’ve found myself attracted to another woman. I know I shouldn’t be, but I can’t help myself. It’s become an obsession and I don’t know what to do. I’ve never cheated on my wife but I find myself thinking about it all the time. I think this other woman is also attracted to me, but I’m not sure. I’m so confused, I don’t know what’s happening to me and I don’t know what to do. My birthday is August 20, 1976 at 3:13 p.m. in San Diego. My wife’s birthday is December 1, 1977.

  —Confused

  Dear Confused:

  I’ll be very direct. It’s really not a choice between one woman or another. You are yearning. You are seeking an aspect of your own “anima” or female self. Neptune is currently opposing your natal Venus and you, believe me, are most likely projecting all sorts of qualities onto this other person, most of which you would ultimately discover are not real.

  We experience great yearnings with Neptune transits and tend to believe that the answer is “somewhere else.” Under transits of Neptune especially, it is not possible to see things clearly. You and your wife are quite compatible astrologically. It would be a shame to destroy your marriage for what may be no more than a passing wraith.

  I recommend seeking professional help to discover what you are missing in your life and your love life. Often, the “other” that you are attracted to turns out to be much like the person you are currently with. There is an excellent book on this very subject: Love Triangles by Julia Bonatti, published by Stargazer Press. This might be a start in helping you sort out your feelings.

  —Zodia

  Samantha would get a kick out of this response. Me, anonymously, plugging my own book, but I really did think it would be a help to the man. I worked my way through ten more emails and sent them back to Sam. I was ahead of my deadlines for the next two weeks, so the newspaper would have plenty of fodder for the column. Finally I breathed a sigh of relief. It had taken all my discipline to focus on my AskZodia work, given Maggie’s news and the events at the law firm.

  I spread the notes I’d made earlier in the day across the desk and plugged the details into my astro program, creating solar charts for each person in the litigation section. The answer lay, I was sure, with the people in Jack’s life, those who dealt with him on a day-to-day basis and those who were most affected by his actions. I printed each one out to study more carefully. Unfortunately, I had no birth information for Hilary Greene or Sarah Larkin or Ira Walstone’s wife, all connected to Jack in some fashion. Because of the Neptune transit to David’s Moon, I was still convinced that a female, perhaps even an employee, was involved somehow. The phone rang and I jumped involuntarily. My nerves were still on edge.

  “Julia, it’s me.” It was Gale. “Have you seen the news?”

  “No, I haven’t.” I hesitated. “Are you talking about the murder at the law firm?”

  “Yeeees.” Gale’s tone took on a heightened sense of drama. “Isn’t that where you used to work? I saw it on the news tonight. It sounds awful. Did you know him? This Harding guy, I mean?”

  “I knew him slightly a couple of years ago, but not recently.” I wasn’t sure if I wanted to get into this with Gale right now. “Actually, I was there yesterday when they discovered his body.”

  “You were there?” Gale shrieked. “Why were you there?”

  “David had asked me to fill in for a week. He asked me as a favor, really. It isn’t what I want to be doing, but the money is welcome.”

  “You’ll have to tell me all about it. Does Cheryl know? Why didn’t she say anything last night at the art show?”

  “I asked her not to. You had a lot on your plate and needed to focus on your event. Besides, I didn’t want to bring it up. It was gruesome.”

  “And you were supposed to call me so we could natter or maybe grab a bite to eat.”

  “Oooh. I’m sorry. I’m a flake. I completely forgot. With everything that’s been going on, it slipped my mind.”

  “What are you doing now?”

  “I just finished some AskZodia emails and I’m looking at some other charts. I’m sorry. Maybe next week?”

  “Hmph. Well, that’s quite all right, my dear,” Gale replied in mock-offended tones. “Luca is available. I can have dinner with him. Ciao.”

  “Wait, listen, I have a question for you. You remember that man I was talking to at the art show Monday night?” I quickly described Henry Gooding.

  “Well, of course. Henry. Lovely man.”

  “What do you really know about him?”

  “Not much. I know he’s wealthy as hell and he spends a lot on art of all sorts. He’s been a good customer.”

  “And there was someone else there at the art show that night that I know slightly.”

  “Who?”

  “Roger Wilkinson. Do you know him?”

  “Oh, sure. Roger has very good taste actually. Gay, of course.”

  “Really?”

  “I’m sure. My gaydar is never wrong.” Gale, suddenly interested, said, “You don’t think he’s having an affair with Henry Gooding, do you? Is that why you’re asking?”

  I groaned inwardly. “No, no, nothing like that. Just wondering if you had some little tidbits about Roger.” I hesitated. “I did run into Henry Gooding today, though. Outside of Hilary Greene’s gallery. You must know her.”

  “Oh, yes. Not well, but I’ve met her. What were you doing there?”

  “Hilary is … was Jack Harding’s ex-wife.”

  “No!”

  “Yes. It is a small world, isn’t it?”

  “I’ll say. I met her about a year ago, but I don’t know anything about her past. As far as Roger is concerned, I wish I could oblige. I’ve seen him around at some cocktail parties here and there. Seems like there was something about him … someone made a joke once.”

  “Like what?”

  “I don’t really remember. Just seems …” Gale groaned in frustration. “I had the impression … wish I could remember, now. If I recall, it referred to some scandal. Someone made a joke and he was the butt of the joke. Maybe it’ll come to me. Why?”

  “Nothing, really. He’s another of the attorneys at David’s firm. I was just curious what you knew about him and how he came to be at Luca’s show. He was there with a woman, Nora Layton. At least I think they came together.”

  “She wasn’t on my list. Maybe she was his guest.”

  “Ah, okay. It’s not a big deal. I’ll give you a call later this week. Oh … before I forget or before you forget, what’s Luca’s birth date and time?”

  “Oh damn, I forgot.”

  “Right.”

  “Don’t give me a bad time. I’ll get it.”

  “You better.”

  “And don’t forget the open house and costume party at the Eye on Saturday night,” Gale said. “I’ve rented some outfits, so you should come by to pick one out. Everyone will be there, some of our readers and a lot of our customers. The doors’ll be open to everyone. I think you’ll look very cute in the cat outfit.”

  “I’ll be there. Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

  “Just keep in touch. Kisses. Bye.”

  seventeen

  I heaved a sigh and finally settled down to the charts. Ira’s natal Sun was in Cancer with Pluto transiting in
opposition. A powerful transit. Mars was approaching that point. He could just as easily have been the murder victim, especially since his solar eighth house, the house of death, was involved.

  Karen’s birth date was November 8th. Her natal Sun in Scorpio was conjunct her South Node of the Moon. Not a positive placement at all. She’d have a very hard time not repeating outdated patterns. Pluto, Uranus, Mars, and the Moon were in a tight stellium. She must be in a permanent state of emotional turmoil. Suzanne’s Venus was in Cancer, a real softie, but transiting Pluto was opposing that position too. Her love life was in turmoil. Perhaps there was a breakup with Jack prior to his death, if Dani’s information was to be believed. Nora was a Taurus, but the normal steadiness of Taurus was undermined by an opposition from Neptune and a square from Saturn forming a T-square. Definite daddy problems. Death of a father? So much overcompensation to prove she was really important.

  Jack’s physical appearance had indicated possibly Scorpio rising. This was guesswork, I knew, but if so, Pluto might have been crossing over his fourth house cusp, the point representing the beginning and the end of life. Did this signal his physical death? His Moon was close to a conjunction with Suzanne’s Venus, and his Mars in Gemini was in the same sign and close degree of her natal Venus. Those chart correspondences would definitely indicate an attraction between them. If Dani was right and they were having an affair, it was a rocky one given Suzanne’s transits.

  I hadn’t anticipated that one Pluto transit could be hitting the charts of so many in different ways, and all in one working environment, but it couldn’t be ignored. I stood up and stretched and paced around the room. What conclusions could I come to? Dani was convinced Suzanne had been having an affair with Jack, but it might have broken up by the time of his murder. Or, the breakup had caused his murder and Suzanne was guilty. Nora Layton had all those telltale medical records in her personnel file and the hard Neptune aspect could indicate problems with drugs or alcohol.

  I reached for the phone, then pulled my hand away. I badly wanted to talk to Maggie some more. If she was staying at her mother’s house, I was hesitant to call. Celia’s sharp tongue and cold attitude toward me was an atmosphere I did my best to avoid. It boggles my mind how successfully she nurses her antipathy. What energy the woman must have! I hated to admit it, but Celia’s treatment was working. I never did want to approach her or have to deal with her. I finally decided to try Maggie’s cell. It rang four times and then her outgoing message played.

  “Hi Maggie, it’s Julia. Just checking in with you to chat. I hope all’s well. Call me when you can. Love you.”

  I was concerned about her. She had been hit with the sudden death of a sibling she was extremely close to. She had been doing well, but now this newly discovered photo had opened that wound again. All our lives had been irrevocably altered—Celia, Maggie, and I. But there was hope for Maggie. She was young. She had her whole life ahead of her. I didn’t want to see her held back by the past any longer. There was a time coming that I had seen in her chart. Soon both Jupiter and Pluto would form supportive angles to the ruler of her ninth house, the house of higher education. I’d wait for those transits and broach the subject with her again. I didn’t hold out a lot of hope for Celia.

  I study Michael’s chart often, trying to understand why his death came at that time. It’s an absolute no-no for an astrologer to predict death, with good reason. We’re not God. We have no right. Even so, the unvarnished truth is that we all have our theories on that subject. I’ve often thought that if my study of astrology had taken place sooner, while Michael was still alive, I would have been smart enough to have been forewarned, to save him. Looking back even now, nothing in Michael’s chart indicated the event of that day. Even if I had been an expert in prediction at that time, I doubt I would have seen anything that would have led me to fear his death. I still study his chart, searching for some sign that, had I but seen it soon enough, might have saved his life.

  I clipped the charts from the firm on the bulletin board to study later. I wasn’t ready to call it a night, and Maggie’s photo was haunting me. I slipped on my jacket, grabbed my purse, and, making sure Wizard was in, closed the kitty door.

  I cut across the Park and followed 19th Avenue to Taraval. Michael’s apartment had been above a small Realty office in the 3400 block near 45th Avenue. The building hadn’t changed—still peach-colored with dark blue trim. I pulled over and parked across the street, staring up at the front arched window. It was dark now, but someone was home. Light emanated from an interior room. From this angle I could see a lamp, pictures on the opposite wall, and a section of the beamed ceiling. A woman with long dark hair approached the window and turned on the lamp. Her face was flooded with light before she turned away.

  Strangers were living there now. Many times I’ve dreamed that I still live there. Dreams so vivid I felt confused when I woke up, as if my soul or my astral body still lingered in the old place. Every detail of that apartment was clear in my mind. The tiles above the stove, the cabinet that never shut properly, the bedroom window that always stuck. It was strange, but I’d never wondered what had happened to that apartment, who might have moved into Michael’s place where we’d spent so many days and nights. I tried to recall some of the details of our daily life. Things we’d worried about at the time. Small problems that seemed to loom large. How narrow our vision was.

  I sighed and turned the key in the ignition. That’s when I noticed a van parked further up the street, light emanating from its open doors. Two men were stacking boxes on the sidewalk. Could one of them be the son of the elderly neighbor who had died? I turned the engine off and climbed out. I hesitated, but finally headed in their direction. When I neared the house, I looked to the top of the stairs. A woman stood by an open front door, and a For Sale sign was stuck on the postage-stamp-sized lawn. I reached the men just as they were turning back to climb the flight of stairs to the house.

  “Excuse me,” I said. One man continued up the stairs but the other stopped and turned back. “I understand your father died recently.”

  He looked puzzled but said, “Uh, yes, he did. A few weeks ago. Were you a friend of his?”

  “I … I didn’t know him very well, but we used to see him all the time walking his dog. I was sorry to hear about his death.” I hesitated. “I used to live across the street.” I pointed vaguely in the direction of Michael’s old apartment. “I’ve been told you found some pictures.”

  The man took a step closer. “How did you …?”

  “It was my fiancé who was killed here.”

  The woman who’d been standing by the front door descended and stood next to her husband. I could see now they were older than they’d appeared at first. Perhaps early fifties. The man started to speak, but his wife interrupted him. “I’m so sorry,” she said. She glanced at her husband. “We did. We found a very strange photo, but we contacted the police about it.” Was there a slightly defensive tone in her voice?

  “I know. His family told me.” I neglected to say it was only Maggie. Why make things more complicated? “I just … I happened to be driving by and I saw your van. I thought I’d …” What did I think? I was burning with curiosity and unanswered questions but I didn’t want to alienate these two.

  “We knew about the accident, of course. Just terrible. My father-in-law talked about nothing else for a while. Of course, it was such a long time ago …”

  Not for me. “Two years and ten months,” I replied. This woman had never lost anyone close to her.

  Her expression shifted. “Of course, I … I didn’t mean to imply it wasn’t important.”

  “Can you tell me … if you found any other photos?”

  They both shook their heads. “No, we didn’t. We didn’t have time to go through all the negatives. We turned them over to the police, so perhaps there’s something there they can work with.”

  “Do you hav
e any idea why your father-in-law didn’t come forward at the time?”

  The woman took a deep breath. “I don’t know,” she finally stated flatly.

  “Look, I’m not criticizing anyone. I’m not. I’m just wondering why, if he talked to you about being a witness to a hit-and-run, he didn’t talk to the police. And I know they canvassed the neighborhood.”

  The woman’s lips pursed. She was weighing her options. But her husband spoke. “I can’t say for sure. He was certainly concerned about it. I just assumed he’d talked to the police. I asked him about it a few weeks later but he shut me out. Said he didn’t want to think about it. He was upset. Maybe he felt he was getting old and vulnerable and something like that might happen to him too. He said he really didn’t see or remember anything.”

  I stared at them. I was confused. “Any idea why he did an about-face like that?”

  “Maybe he was getting a bit senile.” The man shrugged. “Maybe he thought if he dwelled on it … I don’t know. I can only guess.”

  The woman turned to her husband. “I told you what I thought at the time,” she said sharply. “I thought he was frightened. I even wondered if he was scared of something. Or someone.” She shook her head. “But I don’t really know, either.”

  There was nothing more I could glean here. My presence was making them uncomfortable, almost as if I were accusing them of a crime. “Well, thank you. I appreciate your talking with me.” They nodded in unison. Probably glad to see me go. “I’m very sorry for your loss.”

  “Thanks,” the man said. They watched me for a few moments as I turned away and headed back to my car. I hadn’t learned a thing.

  My stomach started to rumble as I sat in traffic on 19th Avenue for the second time that day. I reached Irving and decided to stop for a sandwich in one of the small eateries there. I pulled into a parking lot behind a hole-in-the-wall restaurant that offered organic fixings on freshly baked bread and picked up a tomato- avocado-sprout sandwich to go. I was so hungry I ripped the paper off as soon as I returned to my car. It was delicious. I was just about to take the last bite when I glanced up at the building on the corner. A brightly lit sign announced Deklon Management.