Murder in the Eleventh House

by Mitchell Scott Lewis

  “Johnny, what would you do with your life if you had your choice?”

  “I don’t know. I’ve always had to work six nights a week just to make ends meet. I’ve never had time to give it much thought. If it paid enough and I could find a job, I guess I’d work with animals. I love animals, you know. But who’s going to hire me without experience?”

  Lowell nodded. They were silent for a while, watching the flames, all of them lost in their own thoughts.

  Even in the warmth of fire, wine and close ones, Lowell’s mind was churning. He often felt a severe physical letdown after a victory, but not this time. They were not out of danger yet.

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Before sunrise, Mort and Lowell were at work in the basement office. They were still working on the security upgrades for the house. It would take another few days to complete and the place was a jumble of cameras and wires. Lowell stepped over several pieces of equipment and settled into his chair.

  “I’ll get most of this done this week,” said Mort. “I’m still waiting for some pieces from Switzerland. You should be up and running by Friday.”

  “Any luck uncovering that Purple Diamond thing?”

  “A bit. Purple Diamond Industries has interests all around the world, always through some sort of holding company. They don’t directly own anything. They have one in China, the Middle East, Africa, and just about everywhere. They are a private equity company put together for the purpose of investing in large land projects like Pilgrim’s Cavern. There are exactly twenty shareholders.”

  “The same number on the list of investors in the launch of Winston’s political career.”

  “Another coincidence.”

  “Exactly.”

  Lowell stood up and paced back and forth as he spoke, his right hand unconsciously tugging on his ponytail.

  “So, Purple Diamond Industries, a group of rich and powerful conservative Republicans, puts together a multibillion dollar development plan in Pilgrim’s Cavern, and then puts millions of dollars behind an unknown political entity to be appointed state senator, who winds up dead before she can be put into office.”

  “Seems that way.”

  “And then someone frames our client and makes numerous attempts to bury it, and us.”

  “What do you think?”

  “I think the circle is close to completion.”

  ***

  Lowell had asked everyone to come to breakfast at nine.

  “With the death of the murderer and Johnny’s exoneration, I feel that the immediate threat has subsided sufficiently and everyone can return home, and the agency can resume its work downtown.” The smiles around the table were caught up short when Lowell was quick to resume his pronouncement. “I would still ask that you be acutely aware of your surroundings and please call Andy for a ride, especially after dark.”

  Melinda held up the paper. “Did you see the Post? Your face is right on the cover.”

  “Yeah,” said Johnny, “people really know who you are.”

  “I’m glad that more people are taking an interest in my work. But I could live without all the notoriety.”

  “Oh, get over it,” said Johnny. “You’re a rock star now and you should enjoy it while it lasts. Hey, they’ll all be running up to you for autographs soon.”

  Lowell made a face. “Let’s hope not. What a thought. Well, let’s get packed and on our way. Andy will take everyone where they need to be, suitcases and all, later. For now, Mort, Sarah, its back to East Twenty-fourth.”

  ***

  Lowell was feeding the turtles when the phone buzzed. “Melinda’s on line one.”

  He was about to pick up the phone when Sarah suddenly shrieked. “Oh, my God!”

  Lowell jumped out of his seat and was about to run out to her desk. “What is it? What happened?” he asked, expecting the worst.

  “Ketchup,” she screamed over the speakerphone, “on my white shoes!”

  Lowell sat back down, his heart racing. Yes, things were returning to normal. He picked up the phone. “Hi, Melinda, everything all right?”

  “Not really. I’m with Johnny. We went to her apartment and found that her landlord locked her out of her apartment.”

  “Isn’t that illegal?”

  “Certainly. I’ve filed papers and the courts have issued a warrant for his arrest. We should be able to get her back in by tomorrow, day after at the latest.”

  Lowell heard Johnny’s voice. “I told you, you don’t have to do this. I’ll be fine. I just have to figure something out.”

  Melinda spoke to both of them. “No, you won’t be fine unless we do something. There is nothing wrong with asking for help. We all need it sometimes.”

  “And then what? You think he’s going to just let me live in peace after I had him arrested? My life is going to be hell.”

  “I hadn’t thought of that. We can get the court to issue a follow-up warning.”

  “You don’t get it, do you? I won’t be safe, especially coming home from the bar late at night. You know, I think those two goons that ripped up my place were sent by him.”

  “I think you may be right. The same thought occurred to me.”

  Lowell jumped in from his side of the phone. “Tell Johnny to go back uptown to the townhouse. I have an idea.”

  Lowell clicked off then picked up the phone again and dialed his lawyer. “Hello, Bernie, it’s David Lowell.”

  “What can I do for you David?”

  “You know how you’ve been bugging me to diversify my holdings?”

  “Don’t tell me you’re actually taking money out of the bank?”

  “I’d like to buy something, and I need you to put the deal together. Price is not a concern.”

  “Sure, I can start right away. What is it you want to buy?”

  ***

  After the phone call, Lowell reviewed a number of charts on his desk, called Mort a few times, and generally pivoted in his chair mulling over the case. After a few hours, he called Andy, asking him to bring Johnny by and pick him up.

  Lowell and Johnny rolled up Second Avenue in the back of the limo. New Yorkers had broken out gloves and scarves for the first time, now that a late autumn chill had set in.

  ***

  “Johnny, I may have a place for you to stay, if you want it.”

  “Where?”

  “In Manhattan. The rent would be very reasonable, and there would be a job available as well, if you decided not to continue in the bar business. Are you interested?”

  “Well, I’d like to know more about it. Bartending is the only thing I know how to do.”

  “Do you still want to do it?”

  “No, I really hate it. There isn’t a part of my body that doesn’t hurt most all the time.”

  She turned her wrist, creating a loud cracking sound. “You hear that? That’s from pouring a hundred thousand drinks. My knees hurt, that ankle I broke as a kid swells up sometimes where I can’t walk. My back aches and I drink too much.” She laughed. “Sounds like a hell of a job description, doesn’t it?”

  “I can’t understand why you’d want to leave it,” David grinned. “I tell you what, let’s go take a look at the situation, and you can think about it before you decide. There’s no commitment. Ah, here we are.”

  The limo pulled up in front of Cuddles and Puddles pet store.

  Johnny peered through the car’s glass. “What’s this all about?”

  “I am buying this building, along with the store. If it’s going to remain a pet store, I’m going to need a new assistant manager. The old one quit. There’s a vacant apartment on the second floor. You would also, of course, get a salary.”

  She stared at him.

  “I’ve known the manager for years. He’s
a very nice guy who would be happy to teach you the business. And I think after running a bar for so many years you’ll have no problem catching on. It’ll take about a week for me to get possession of the building; in the meantime I’ll put you up in a hotel. So, what do you say?”

  Johnny kissed Lowell on the cheek. She tried to say something but couldn’t.

  “There is one catch,” said Lowell, after the emotions had subsided.

  “What’s that?”

  ***

  The structure was old by New York standards, prewar brick. It served many functions for the community; civic meetings, day-care center, voting place, even distributing Thanksgiving dinner to those less fortunate. Tonight it was reserved for a special kind of meeting.

  The room was in the basement. No sign announced its purpose, just a note tacked up that read: Tonight’s meeting is in room B. After a moment they began to descend the stairs, Lowell leading the way. As they entered the hallway, there were two signs, each with an arrow pointing the way; room A was to the left and Room B to the right. The meeting was called for seven. They were just on time.

  They entered the room and stood quietly in the back. There were about twenty or so people sitting on folding chairs. Some had coffee cups in hand. A few were reading or working on a laptop. Several were chatting.

  A woman went up front and stood at the podium. The laptops, books and magazines closed, the room fell silent.

  “Welcome everyone, I’m so glad to see so many of you here. I see we have some newcomers tonight.” She looked at Johnny. “Would anyone like to introduce themselves?”

  Johnny looked up at Lowell.

  He smiled at her and nodded.

  She raised her hand.

  “Good. Why don’t you come up here and say hello.”

  Johnny walked up to the front of the room and stood by the podium. The room was silent as she stared out at the strangers’ faces.

  “What do I do?” she whispered to Sally Rogers.

  “Just say hello, tell them your first name and that you have a gambling problem.”

  She swallowed, cleared her throat and faced the crowd.

  “Hello, my name…”

  She stopped and looked over at David. He smiled and gave her a thumb’s up.

  “My name,” she began again, “is Joanna. And I have a gambling problem.”

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Lowell had asked Melinda, Sarah, and Mort to be at the office early. He fed the turtles as he gazed out the window at the Empire State Building.

  “We know Farrah Winston was killed, and we know who actually did the murder. We know about the land deal in Utah, Winston’s lovers, and her political plans, but that’s it. I’m at a loss.”

  Lowell opened the top desk drawer and removed a small felt pouch. He pulled opened the drawer string and tipped the pouch, pouring three objects into his left hand.

  “What that?” asked Sarah.

  “These are astro-dice.” He held them out. “There are three twelve-sided cubes. You will notice that on one there are the signs of the zodiac. On this second one there are the twelve heavenly bodies used in modern astrology, and on the third are the numbers one through twelve, to represent the houses in a horoscope.”

  “Boy, you sure do have a lot of toys,” said the secretary. “How do they work?”

  “You think of a single question and let the dice fall. The answer will give you a planet in a certain sign in a particular house. For example, if you were worried about your finances and threw Jupiter in the second house in Taurus, it would imply that money would be coming your way and not to worry. If, however, you threw Saturn in that house it would mean that your money issues were not over and that financial restraint was needed.”

  “Are they accurate?”

  “Sometimes they are astonishingly right on the mark. Other times the question or the answer may be too vague to be of much use. I find that it has a lot to do with my mood at the time and how sharp my intuition is. But remember, I use many tools to achieve my goals. I primarily rely on astrology charts to find my answers and only use these devices as secondary tools. It seems to work best when I have already pinpointed the information I require through other investigative means.”

  He casually picked up the astro-dice and let them drop onto the table.

  “The North Node in the 3rd House in Gemini.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It could mean a lot of things, but in this instance it certainly is saying look into the details. The answer is in the little things.”

  He picked them up again and rolled them in his hand as he thought of his question. “How do I find the person responsible for the murders?”

  He dropped the dice.

  “Mercury in Cancer in the 4th House. Okay, now it’s implying that the missing details may have something to do with a home.”

  He threw the dice a third time, and again it was Mercury, only this time in Virgo in the 7th House.

  “What does that throw mean?”

  “Mercury rules paperwork and Virgo deals with details. The 7th House is partnerships or legal contracts.” He picked up the dice and threw them a few more times. Finally he placed them back in the pouch and put it back in the desk drawer.

  “Done?” asked Melinda.

  “They have already answered the question and are becoming redundant.”

  “What’s the answer?” asked Sarah.

  Lowell sat looking at a half dozen charts in front of him, his stone-like face reminiscent of his turtles’ namesake. His eyes roamed from one chart to another and back again, searching for that one connection he might have missed; that singularity that would stand out and finally put all the pieces together.

  But it wouldn’t come.

  He put the papers in a neat pile, stood up and stretched. “Oh, well, maybe it’ll come to me later.”

  “Well,” said Melinda, “it could be worse. You could have to deal with it on retrograde Mercury.”

  “What does that mean?” asked Sarah.

  Lowell continued. “Several times a year the planet Mercury appears to go backwards in the sky for about three weeks at a time. Because Mercury rules communication and all paperwork, these are usually periods when many errors happen.”

  “As if we don’t have enough to worry about,” said Melinda.

  “Actually, if it were in retrograde it could work to our advantage.”

  “How so?”

  “Secrets often are revealed when this aspect occurs. The world slows down and gives us a chance to catch up on things. And if I remember correctly, Mercury was retrograde around the time Farrah Winston was murdered.”

  “Was it?”

  He grabbed his astrology calendar and flipped back several weeks. “Mercury was in retrograde in the weeks leading up to the first murder. In fact, it only turned around two days before the event, the very day Johnny was in court. That means that the planning and preparation took place during that most annoying of times.” David smiled broadly. “I think that’s what the dice were trying to tell me.”

  “Translation?” Mort had been quiet until now. He had been watching Lowell closely.

  “Blunders and oversights. Mistakes are common and often overlooked.” said Lowell. “Things are very confusing and chaotic while Mercury is retrograde, and especially so as it changes direction.”

  He picked up a chart from his desk. “I wonder.” He sat back down and pulled out several of the charts, opened the astrology computer program and started to enter data.

  He chuckled. “Could it be so simple? Mort, I want you to find out what you can about the financial situation of someone. Get whatever you can regarding investments, bank statements, anything.”

  “Okay, who?”

  He told him.
>
  “This isn’t going to be easy.”

  “I also want you to see if you can get me a copy of a certain document.” He wrote down the information on a piece of paper and handed it to him. “I must have a physical copy, nothing less will suffice.”

  Mort looked at the paper. “How am I going to get a physical copy of this?”

  Lowell smiled and raised his eyebrows. “As you put it so succinctly once, I didn’t hire you for your looks.”

  “I’ll try, but I can’t promise anything. This may be a bit difficult to get.”

  “See what you can do.”

  “Do you mind my asking why?”

  “Because I’ll bet my bottom dollar that the person who signed it is responsible for all our misfortune. The devil is in the details. And this is one devil that I plan to send back to hell.”

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Lowell entered the office building on Park a little after nine, took the elevator to the eighteenth floor and walked the few steps to the receptionist. She was a different girl than the one who had been working the last time he visited. The other was a blond, perky and playful, with a lilting musical voice and a Tinkerbelle twinkle in her eye. This one was an older brunette who gave off a no-nonsense aura. He preferred brunettes.

  “David Lowell to see Mark Milford.”