Murder in the Eleventh House

by Mitchell Scott Lewis

  “That sounds like our boy.”

  “This chart also shows that he can be manipulated and easily frightened, which may prove to be useful information.”

  “So why did he lie?”

  “Theoretically there could be dozens of reasons.”

  “Maybe,” said Mort, “I bet he used that date since he was seventeen and bought his first phony I.D. so he could buy booze, and he got so used to quoting it that it just stuck in his mind.”

  “Why would you think of that?”

  “Because that’s what I did.”

  “Maybe, but I wouldn’t bet on it. I believe there is only one reasonable explanation. I think that knowing I am an astrologer his instincts kicked in and he lied.”

  “Just to confuse you?”

  Lowell nodded. “Misdirection is a powerful tool when used properly.”

  “It didn’t work, did it?”

  “Not for very long.”

  ***

  That evening after dinner, Lowell asked to speak to Sarah for a moment.

  “Tomorrow I want you to take Johnny to get her hair cleaned up and styled and then take her shopping for some new clothes. Andy will go with you. We need her to have a mature look for the jury.”

  Sarah’s eyes lit up. “Sure! Everyone’s having huge sales now. We’ll go to Macy’s and Bloomingdale’s.”

  “Conservative outfits.”

  “Yes, boss.”

  “And Sarah,”

  “Yes, boss?”

  “Only one pair of shoes.”

  “Yes, boss,” she said, with obvious disappointment.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  It was ten the next morning and the New York State Thruway was fairly empty. They were moving along at a good pace.

  “What would you like to look at?” Lowell swiveled on his bolted chair and reached to fiddle with a knob.

  “How about the real thing?” It was sunny and the temperature was a balmy fifty degrees. Melinda opened the windows and let the fresh air fill the limo. “It’s so beautiful up here this time of year.” A little snow had stuck in the shade of the hills where the sun never hit. Lowell always marveled at how the landscape and weather could be so different so near such a large city.

  “I suppose.”

  “Oh, dad, will you get your nose out of your damn work for just a minute and appreciate being alive?”

  Lowell put the charts down. “All right, I’m looking.”

  Although the foliage was past its peak there were still occasional brilliant reds, yellows, and oranges passing by. Lowell took a deep breath and absorbed the scenery. “I hope this trip isn’t a waste of time.”

  “I had to depose Colonel Marshal anyway,” said Melinda.

  “You could have done it on Skype.”

  “I know, but this is an opportunity for you to look around.”

  “And for you to get out of the office for an afternoon.”

  “There’s that.”

  They exited the thruway at the foothills of the Catskill Mountains and headed up into the back country, passing through several small towns, all displaying signs welcoming the men and women in uniform.

  The army camp was situated down a long road cut deep into the woods. Except for the fences lining the side of the road and an occasional no trespassing sign, there was nothing to denote this as anything more than a sleepy country byway, until they came to a gatehouse and a soldier in uniform. The limo was stopped at the gate, a phone call was made, and they were ushered into the camp. The colonel was waiting for them outside his headquarters.

  “Would you mind if we walked around the compound while we talked?” asked Colonel Marshal.

  “Not at all,” said Melinda.

  He was wearing a light brown topcoat casual uniform, and his walk was stiff and purposeful, like one would expect of a career military man. The site was much larger than it first appeared. They strolled slowly through the compound past the barracks.

  Lowell followed the two at a few paces. He stroked his ponytail once and looked about as they walked. He didn’t love things military.

  Melinda turned on her portable recorder. “Would you tell us a little bit about Johnny Colbert?”

  “Private Colbert can be a pain in the ass,” said the colonel. “She always has to do things her way, and it makes for some difficult moments.”

  “And how long has she been in the reserves?”

  “Three years.”

  “So she was almost thirty-seven when she signed on. Wasn’t that a little old to be joining up?”

  “I suppose so, but you should have seen the fight in her. She took out women and men twice her size. Could run the obstacle course in record time, and was smart as a whip.”

  “How was her discipline?”

  “Well, discipline was not her strongest suit.”

  “Was she a problem?”

  “She wasn’t a problem; just had her own way of going about things.”

  “She didn’t like rules, is that it?”

  “You’ve met her. What do you think?”

  “Any trouble with alcohol?”

  “Absolutely not. Whatever our reservists do in their off time is their business, but when they are under my command, I demand a clear head. No booze and no drugs. Besides, Johnny took her time here very seriously. She was always sober and conscientious. I never saw or heard of her even having a social drink while in camp.”

  “And her specialty?”

  “All types of explosives.”

  “Isn’t that a bit of a broad subject?”

  “When she first joined us, she showed a great interest and aptitude for them. She studied with our trainers and learned all they could teach her. Then she went off and studied the subject on her own. She would sit in front of the computer for hours researching any new inventions that came along and trying to stay on top of things. By the end of her second year with us, there wasn’t any conventional bomb she didn’t know how to build, detonate, or dismantle, sometimes under direct fire.”

  “Isn’t it true that at the request of the New York police department you took an inventory of the explosives in your unit?”

  “Yes ma’am, that is true.”

  “And what did you find?”

  “There was a substantial amount of one type of explosive missing.”

  “And what type is that?”

  “Semtex.”

  “The same type of explosives used in the bomb that killed Judge Winston. After discovering that the explosives were missing what did you do?”

  “I reported it to my superiors and gave a copy of the report to the New York City police.”

  “Had Johnny been on active duty in the previous period before the explosives went missing?”

  “Yes, she had been in camp about a week before.”

  “And being one of your main experts on explosives, did she have access to them?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you think she could have built and detonated the type of bomb used to kill Judge Winston?”

  “Well, I, that is…”

  Melinda turned off the recorder. “Colonel, we’re here to help Johnny, not hang her. That’s the district attorney’s job. I have to consider everything the state will bring up and be prepared for it. Just tell us the truth. We’ll sort it out later.”

  “I understand.”

  She turned the device back on.

  “Yes, Johnny could have built the bomb.”

  “Isn’t it true that Johnny Colbert received the highest commendation awarded in the peacetime reserves?”

  “That is correct. She risked her life under fire to dismantle a bomb that had been planted by the enemy.”

  “She saw combat?” a
sked Lowell, incredulously.

  “Well, domestic combat. We got into a skirmish with Justice Corps, one of those survivalist groups based further upstate. Somehow they got into our camp and put a bomb under one of the barracks and trapped twenty-three men and women inside. Then they tried to hold us off with semi-automatics until the timer could detonate. Johnny ran right in the middle of the battle and dismantled it. Saved a lot of lives too. As far as I’m concerned, Johnny Colbert is a hero.”

  “Okay,” said Melinda, “we’ll see if we can figure out how you can say that on the witness stand.”

  They passed a group of men and women doing calisthenics.

  “Isn’t it true,” continued Melinda, “that the explosives found missing from your camp could have been taken at anytime over the previous month?”

  “Yes. I’m sorry to say that there was a lapse in security that only required us to account once a month for some of the rarely used munitions. In large part because of this case, the army is in the process of correcting that oversight. And since the theft was only discovered in the inventory taken at the end of the monthly cycle, it could have been removed anytime within the previous thirty days.”

  “Perhaps even the day before the murder?”

  “Yes, that is possible, although it would be difficult for someone without clearance to get into camp.”

  “Justice Corps managed to.”

  The colonel nodded grimly.

  “How many people are there permanently placed in the explosives unit?”

  “Seventeen.”

  “And how many of them have the knowledge to produce a bomb such as the one used to kill Judge Winston?”

  The Colonel thought for a moment. “I would say five.”

  “And how many of those five people live in New York City and would likely have had knowledge of Judge Winston?”

  “I don’t know. I’d have to look that up.”

  “Let me save you the trouble,” said Melinda, with a heavy sigh. “The answer is one. Johnny Colbert.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Lowell and Melinda had just gotten back from their sojourn upstate when Sarah and Johnny returned from their shopping spree. Johnny was dressed in a dark blue, conservative business outfit with a jacket, slacks, and white buttoned-up blouse that hid all traces of her tattoo. Her hair had been trimmed and styled, with a flip over one eye. She wore a little makeup, just lipstick and some foundation to add color to her cheeks. But it made a major difference in her appearance. She looked more like a Wall Street yuppie than the hard-drinking, foul-mouthed terror Melinda had met on Riker’s only weeks before. When she saw herself in the dining room mirror she laughed out loud.

  “My mother wouldn’t recognize me.”

  “Johnny,” said Melinda, “why, you’re very beautiful.”

  “Ah, I am not.”

  “Sarah, you did a great job.”

  “Yeah, it was cool, like My Fair Lady. And just one pair of shoes, per instructions,” with a wink at Lowell.

  Lowell was beaming. “You look terrific.”

  Johnny blushed. “I guess a new outfit and a little paint can do wonders.”

  “You’ve got to have something to work with first, or all the window dressing won’t make any difference.”

  She smiled. “I guess so. But shopping with Sarah was a real education. God, you should have heard her talking to the sales people. She knows more about clothes and shoes than anyone I ever knew. She was telling them things about the stuff they were selling that none of them knew. She should be in the business.”

  “Maybe she will be one day. For now I need her to run my office, so please don’t give her any ideas.”

  ***

  An hour later Lowell came down the basement stairs just as he heard Melinda click a cellphone closed and let out a groan. “They’re going to start with jury selections next week.”

  “When you get the list of perspective jurors, bring it to me,” said Lowell, “along with their birth information, if possible.”

  “I want to see how you do this. Vetting a jury is a complicated psychological process that can ultimately win or lose a case.”

  “That’s why I want to study their birth charts and be sure we have a good group to work with.”

  “I understand that some attorneys spent a fortune trying to get that information,” said Sarah. “You can get it from a birth chart?”

  “I believe so.”

  “How?”

  “The chart gives me their basic psychological makeup. It will help us choose those that are most open-minded and fair. We’re going to be discussing some issues that are quite foreign to most of these people, such as astrology.”

  “Will it work?” asked Sarah.

  “It will at least give us a fighting chance. Remember, we only have to have one vote for acquittal to have a hung jury.”

  “Well,” said Melinda, “we’d better find something to build a defense on or it won’t matter much. They fast-tracked this case for a reason. They’re not interested in justice. I think they just want this all to go away.”

  ***

  Later that evening, after a wonderful dinner prepared by Julia, everyone went in different directions in the increasingly claustrophobic townhouse.

  Lowell and Johnny headed for the TV room. Johnny flipped channels until she stopped just as the local news was ending.

  “Good evening and welcome to the New York State Lottery. I’m Yolanda Vega. And now, here is tonight’s numbers.”

  Johnny reached into her back pocket and took a wad of lottery tickets out and held them up. When the numbers had been drawn she threw them on the table in disgust.

  “When did you get a chance to buy those?” asked Lowell.

  “When we were out shopping.”

  Lowell said nothing.

  “I felt lucky.”

  “Lucky? You’re on trial for first-degree murder, you’ve been stabbed, and most of your possessions have been destroyed. Why would you feel lucky?”

  “I saw my birthday on two different license plates, so I had to play it.”

  “Why do you buy these awful things?”

  “Because.”

  “Because why?”

  She shrugged.

  “Don’t you know that the odds of winning anything worthwhile are astronomical?”

  “I guess.”

  “So why?”

  “Because.”

  Lowell waited.

  “I get up at noon, exercise, run a few errands and then it’s time to go to work until three in the morning, where I spend most of my life entertaining drunks and people that couldn’t give a crap about me. Outside of my co-workers I have very few friends, no steady boyfriend, and no family.”

  She sipped her drink.

  “I haven’t been to the movies in two years. Except for drinking and eating out, there’s nothing that I enjoy.”

  “But don’t you feel foolish when you buy them?”

  “At least…” she stopped.

  “At least what?”

  “At least I feel something.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Lowell was up early with hot coffee by his side. Time was running out. The evidence was overwhelming, and if he couldn’t solve this thing before the trial started, Johnny’s prospects didn’t look too good. His desk was inundated with astrology charts scattered haphazardly.

  Melinda and Sarah came in, each with her hands around a ceramic mug of morning gold. A chill had hit the city during the night and the townhouse’s heat was just kicking in.

  Lowell turned to the astrology computer program. “It’s time to try something new.” He hit the now button which brought a chart onto the screen. “Who is responsible for the death of Farrah Winston?�
�

  “What are you doing?” asked Melinda.

  “It’s a horary chart.”

  “What’s a whore airy chart?” asked Sarah.

  “Horary,” said Lowell, “it means of the hour.”

  “How does it work?”

  “A single question is posed and should be answerable through the position of the planets exactly when the question is asked.”

  “Didn’t you ask two questions?”

  “Not really. What I am seeking is the solution to the question of who committed the murder.”

  He printed the chart.

  “What does it say?” Melinda was looking over his shoulder.

  “What do you think?”

  “We never spent much time on horary work. You always said it would just add to my obsession with boys and I’d appreciate it more when I was older.”

  “Was I wrong?”

  Melinda shrugged. “Probably not.”

  “You had a lot of boyfriends?” asked Sarah.

  Lowell laughed. “You should have seen her when she was younger. Sometimes she would juggle three at once.”

  “I’ve grown up,” said Melinda.

  “Well, maybe it’s curable,” replied the redhead.

  “Anyway,” continued Lowell, “the ascendant of this chart is two degrees, which means that there isn’t enough information yet to get a definitive answer. But it may still reveal something that will prove useful.” He tugged on his ponytail as he studied the chart. “The ruler of the ascendant is in the 3rd House conjunct the North Node, and it has just completed a square to Neptune. Clearly this is speaking about distraction and misdirection. Perhaps some paperwork of some sort holds the key. The answer is in the detail.” He sipped his coffee. “Someone very close to her had a hand in this. Someone she had dealings with on a daily basis.”