Murder in the Eleventh House

by Mitchell Scott Lewis

  Chapter Forty-One

  That evening, Lowell rested in front of a roaring fire. He didn’t believe in prescription painkillers, but a little Advil and a cold beer couldn’t hurt. And it didn’t.

  Melinda sat by his side and reached out to give him a hug.

  “Easy does it. I’m still quite sore.”

  “Sorry, but I’m just so happy to know that Johnny didn’t… well you know.”

  “Yes, I’m happy, too.”

  He had quietly told her about the day’s events, not wanting to get Johnny’s hopes up just yet. Nothing was final until the judge dismissed the case.

  Lowell took a long draw from the beer glass. “Roland wants to discuss the video first thing tomorrow, and we’ll go from there.”

  “Father, I can’t thank you enough. For what you did. For Johnny. For me.” She patted her father’s hand very gingerly. “And for this fire. It always means home and comfort to me.”

  ***

  The next morning, Lowell Advilled-up again and went to the precinct house. Roland was waiting for him.

  “Well, that was quite a performance, Lowell. Oscar material. I never thought of you as the physical type. Obviously I was wrong.”

  “I’ve told you repeatedly about my black belt in aikido.”

  “I never gave much credibility to it until now.”

  “I guess you were wrong about Johnny Colbert.”

  “I guess so.”

  He held up a folder. “The lab did a rush job on the gun we found by his body.”

  “Thank you. You do know that he was just the muscle. We need to follow the path back to the brains behind all of it.”

  “His prints aren’t in any of our files. We’ll send them and his picture to the F.B.I. and Interpol. The only lead we’ve got is from you about the townhouse where he was staying. I’ll follow up on it.” His voice lacked conviction.

  “You’ll discover that it was rented to a shell company with a p.o. box taken out under a fictitious name. The rental deal was done over the phone. The tax ID number for the credit check was a scam. The company was put together right before, and the bank account that the check was drawn on was closed the next week. The lease was sent to the p.o. box and returned by mail.”

  “I see you’ve been busy.”

  “But surely if you follow the trail you should be able to find its origin.”

  Roland shook his head. “We haven’t got the resources to chase this thing.”

  Lowell frowned. “That’s not like you to give up so easily. What’s going on?”

  “Look, we’ve got Farrah Winston’s murderer, that’s what we set out to do. And you’ve exonerated your client, isn’t that enough?”

  “I’m afraid not. I have been targeted for murder and I can not let that go, nor will I live in constant fear that someone someday will decide I am a liability they can not afford.”

  “All I can tell you is that officially this case is closed. I’ve been told to let sleeping dogs lie, in those exact words.”

  “Someone tried to stonewall my investigation, and now you’re getting pressure to drop the case. Doesn’t that bother you?”

  “Of course it does, but what would you like me to do? My hands are tied.”

  “Well, mine aren’t.”

  “I would be careful not to step on the wrong toes, if I were you.”

  “Thank you for your concern.”

  “Look, I don’t know how much I can help you, but if there’s anything within my means let me know.”

  ***

  Lowell met Judge Thompson in his chambers. He brought a laptop computer and a copy of the video with him.

  “You don’t look so good,” said the judge.

  A bruise on Lowell’s face had deepened into a rich eggplant purple. Lowell wasn’t sure when in the struggle he got banged there.

  “Sometimes the path to the truth is not an easy journey.”

  “What did you want to show me?”

  “I believe this evidence will exonerate my client.”

  He opened the laptop and inserted the disc. For twenty minutes Judge Thompson sat spellbound and watched as Lowell and the hit man went at it. When Lowell was seemingly shot in the stomach the judge grunted loudly in sympathy. When it was over he sat back in his chair, his finger supporting his chin.

  Finally he looked over at Lowell. “I take it you weren’t really shot. And how old are you?”

  “Over fifty.”

  The judge closed his eyes for a moment. “That was quite something for a man of any age.”

  “I almost didn’t make it. I was prideful of my skills.”

  “But you made it. And this man was responsible for both murders.”

  “He was the puppet, but I still don’t know who was pulling the strings.”

  “I assume this can all be corroborated?”

  “Lieutenant Roland has seen this video and is now in possession of the body and other physical evidence. He said he will call you later.”

  “Well, let me speak to him and put all of this in order. I want a meeting with all the principals tomorrow. My clerk will set it up with the district attorney’s office and be in touch with you.”

  “Your honor, one other thing. Were you aware of the plans to project Farrah Winston into national politics?”

  Thompson shot forward in his chair. “How on earth do you know about that?”

  “I had a reliable source.”

  “Very few people knew this. She had been approached by a group of ultraconservative businessmen with old money. They wanted to push her onto the national scene and bankroll her future with a fortune.”

  “And with the sudden death of Senator Smith, she was going to be appointed state senator in Utah.”

  “They were all set to make the announcement.”

  “And then what?”

  “There was an opening next November for the U.S. Senate seat, and she was being groomed to step onto the national stage.”

  “That’s what I figured. And she wasn’t sure if that was what she wanted?”

  “One day she came to me and told me about it. We met in a motel up in Westchester. She didn’t know what to do. She said that if they had approached her before she met me she would have had no hesitation at all. But I had helped change her perspective and she wasn’t sure if she could deliver what they expected of her.”

  “When was that?”

  “That was the last time I saw her, about a week before she died.”

  “I thought you broke up earlier than that?”

  “We did. But you know when it comes to love we’re all just about sixteen. I knew it was a risk that I shouldn’t take. But when she called and said she needed to talk, the prospects of one more encounter with this wonderful woman overwhelmed any sense I had.”

  The judge swiveled in his chair and looked out the window. “This area hasn’t changed much since I began here in the seventies. I used to believe that I could make a difference, that maybe my being here would tip a few people’s lives in a better direction.”

  “I’m sure that you have made a difference.”

  Thompson shrugged. “I’m not sure anyone does.” He turned toward Lowell. “It’s all going to hell in a hand-basket, isn’t it?”

  “Yes.”

  The judge shook his head. “I love this country. How did it happen so fast?”

  “It didn’t. The foundation has been crumbling for decades.”

  “I guess you’re right. We were all so busy dealing with our day-to-day lives we never saw the decay until the base gave way. So what happens now? What does the astrology say about the next twenty years?”

  “This is one of those times when humanity has to make a decision. Do we just go along the same path
and wait for the inevitable results, or do we make a stand?”

  “What do you think?”

  Lowell sighed. “I think we will pay a heavy price for our past transgressions.”

  The judge nodded. He took a snapshot of Farrah from his shirt pocket. “This is the only picture I kept.” He caressed it gently with his fingertips as he spoke. “She was a remarkable woman. I wouldn’t have let this happen, if I had only known.”

  “You were not to blame for her death,” said Lowell. “It was these men with their hidden agenda who put an end to her life.”

  “Still, if I had not gotten involved with her she might still be alive. In fact, she would probably be a senator. And even a conservative Farrah Winston is better than none.”

  He looked at the picture one more time and then returned it to his pocket. “I cannot thank you enough for keeping my name out of this. It would have ruined my marriage and ended my career.”

  “So now what?”

  The judge leaned back and arched his fingers. “I’m announcing my retirement at the end of the month. I’ve had enough, and there’s nothing more I can do. We are heading into a new world, and I agree with you that our nation will be shaken up for years to come.”

  “All the more reason to have someone like you in a position to help.”

  “No, not anymore. I’ve watched as America turned its back on everything I believed in. Years of lies and deceit at the highest levels of government and financial institutions have left me exhausted and frustrated. I haven’t got the strength to keep fighting. We have a small house in Vermont on a lake. All I want to do is spend what time I have left with my wife. I will never finish mourning Farrah. But at least, thanks to you, I can do so in the privacy of my own thoughts.”

  Lowell stood.

  “Would you do me one more favor?” Thompson stood to say goodbye.

  “What’s that?”

  “If you do finally unravel this thing, will you please let me know who had Farrah killed?”

  “Of course, your honor.”

  Chapter Forty-Two

  When Lowell, Melinda, and Johnny arrived at the courthouse the next day a group of reporters had gathered outside.

  A cacophony of shouted questions rained down on them as they ran the gauntlet. “Ms. Lowell, is it true that there is evidence that will exonerate your client?” “Who did it?” “Was it another judge?”

  They went up to the judge’s chambers on the fourth floor. Roland was there already.

  When all the principals were seated, Melinda began.

  “We were able to discover the identity of the person who killed Judge Farrah Winston.”

  “And was that person Johnny Colbert?” asked Harris, the D.A.

  “No,” she said, “it most certainly was not.”

  A TV monitor was rolled in and hooked up to Melinda’s laptop computer. She hit play and the screen was filled with the sight of Lowell and the hit man’s encounter. It was set to only show a few seconds before the man’s confession, but there was enough for all to see the results of the violence that had preceded it.

  The judge turned toward Roland. “Lieutenant, you have seen this entire video?”

  “Yes. It was shown to me in its entirety by Mr. Lowell.”

  “And have you ascertained whether or not this is genuine?”

  “I have. We went to the building where this altercation took place and found the body of the man on the tape. Then we went to a townhouse on East Thirty-eighth Street, where this man had been residing. We found plastique explosives and detonators identical to those that were used in the murder.”

  “Did you find any connection between this man and Johnny Colbert?” asked Harris.

  “No. There is absolutely no evidence to tie them together.”

  “Then is there any way that the defendant was responsible for the death of Judge Farrah Winston?”

  “I would have to say no, she in no way played a part in the victim’s death.”

  “Mr. Harris,” said the judge, “what say you on this matter?”

  Harris was flummoxed.

  “Mr. Harris?” repeated the judge.

  “Your Honor, due to these facts that have come to light, the prosecution withdraws its complaint.”

  ***

  Outside, the crowd of reporters had grown appreciably. They swarmed around Johnny and Melinda. Lowell had gone out the back way to avoid the attention.

  “How does it feel to be free?” “Did you really use astrology to crack this case?” “What will you do now, Johnny?”

  Shouted questions flew from all directions, but this time, Melinda stopped and held up her hands. The crowd quieted.

  “This has been a horrible time for my client, and she desperately needs her rest. I will make a short statement, and then we beg of you to leave us in peace.

  “Johnny has been vilified and reprimanded repeatedly in the press. She has been called the worst of names, threatened and demonized, even before a judgment was declared. This is called conviction by hearsay. There have been no fewer than twenty death threats sent to her, as well as the horrible inaccuracies that have made their way onto blogs and Facebook. If we are to remain a civilized society in a time of instant gratification and worldwide communications, we must rise to a standard upon which such inventions and advancements can improve our culture, not destroy it.

  “This case is an example of how easy it is to be accused of a crime and have the finger of circumstance pointed in your direction. This is still the greatest country in the world. We have a legal system that works, but it is flawed. Like everything else in America it favors the rich. Most people without means will never get the chance to have a competent defense. This case proves once again how important it is for people to have access to a good lawyer when they need one. And I’m glad to have had the chance to defend this innocent woman.”

  “Johnny, got anything to add?” asked one reporter.

  “Yeah, it’s good to be free.”

  “Ms. Lowell, Jane Goodman from CNN. Just one more question that’s been bugging us all, if you don’t mind. Did you really use astrology to help crack this case?”

  “Yes, we did.”

  “But how can an intelligent person like you believe in that nonsense?”

  Melinda’s face grew red. She turned to the reporter. “Jane, I have been a student of astrology since I was nine. You have not. As you said, I am an intelligent person and have seen repeatedly what this wonderful ancient tool is capable of. Your ignorance on the subject is strikingly obvious. You know nothing about it, and I think you should learn something about what you ridicule beforehand. My father’s astrological work has been documented for decades, and was invaluable in defending my client. Without the use of his talents in half a dozen ways, there would have been a catastrophic injustice. So before you use words like ‘nonsense’ do some homework. Some of the smartest people I have ever met are advocates of astrology.

  “Now,” said Melinda, grabbing Johnny’s arm, “if you will all excuse us we have a dinner engagement.”

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Lowell had called Julia when the case was dismissed and given her instructions for their celebration. Mort and Sarah greeted them enthusiastically at the door, and Andy came up after parking the limo.

  A fire was roaring in the living room, and fluted glasses with freshly poured champagne were waiting. When everyone was settled, they each took a glass.

  “The honor of first toast goes to my daughter,” said Lowell, “the hero of the day.”

  Melinda raised her glass. “To the real hero of the day, justice, that rare and most elusive of guests.”

  They all drank.

  “Can I make a toast?” asked Johnny.

  “Most definitely,” said Lowell.

&nbs
p; She cleared her throat theatrically and began. “There is no way I can truly express what I feel. You were all just so wonderful to me. I just wanted to thank all of you. Melinda Lowell, brilliant attorney at law. David Lowell, the unusual but equally brilliant astrologer. And to everyone at the Starlight Detective Agency. May you go on to help many others who need you.”

  Cheers of “here, here” filled the room.

  Dinner was one of Julia’s best. It was a smorgasbord of delights, half vegetarian and half not. Lowell stuffed himself a little too much. He had to unbuckle his trousers, and he vowed this time to pull that paunch in. His life had depended on speed and timing in his recent skirmish and he just barely had enough. The next time he might not.

  Tomorrow the gym.

  ***

  Lowell sat by the fire and put his feet up on the footstool. His leg was still quite sore and the heat felt comforting. He’d noticed that Johnny had tempered her drinking quite a bit. Now she was sipping a glass of red wine.

  Johnny looked at David and Melinda with tears in her eyes. “I can’t possibly thank you both enough. I could never rely on people my whole life, and you two strangers came along and saved me. I don’t think I’ll ever truly understand why, but I owe you both more than I could ever repay.”

  She wiped a tear off a cheek.

  “Your freedom is thanks enough. What are you going to do now?” Melinda was sitting next to her father again. She realized that this close time together would return to old rhythms with the case over.

  “I don’t know. I guess I’ll go back home tomorrow and try to put my apartment back together. Everything I own including my clothes has been destroyed. All I have are the things you bought me to wear to trial. My landlord has been trying to evict me ever since this all started. He went to court to argue that I don’t deserve my rent-stabilized apartment because I was a murder suspect. I had to send a friend to housing court to ask for a delay in the case until I knew what was going to happen to me. What is it with me and courts all of a sudden? Now that I’ve been cleared, he’s saying that I wrecked the place. I don’t know what to do.”

  Lowell sipped his beer and watched the fire as it danced its waltz, sparkling here and there, like Hallowe’en glitter on a young girl’s face. He had a great fondness for fireplaces from when he was newly married. He and his wife had little money; such was the way of an astrologer’s life. He realized how lucky he was to have been able to use his skills on Wall Street, but that had taken a long, long time. Early in their marriage his wife’s uncle had died and left her an old stone house near Woodstock, and the huge fireplace there had been a revelation. They would laugh and make love and fall asleep in front of the fire. How had his marriage gone off course? What should he have done differently? He looked at his beautiful daughter and realized something really wonderful had come from the union, and that was enough for him for now. Then he looked at this strange, beautiful bartender in his living room.