I went to the foot of the bed and leaned against it. “You eliminated two? Who?”
“Henry Koberberg and Stew Remington.”
“How did you do that?”
Cornell said, “You tell him, Cary.”
Lane was shuffling papers and books. “Well, with Stew, he has Venus in Aries. Now that means he’ll be compatible with Aries anyway, but it also means he’ll be compatible with people who have Venus in Pisces—I mean, the most compatible of any Venetian sign—and Jamie had that, too! So even though there might be differences between them sometimes, they’d always have a basic sympathy with one another and wouldn’t ever really lose their tempers.”
Cornell said, “Tell him about the houses.”
Did I want to hear about the houses? Or did I want to get on with my own investigation? I had no interest in Cornell’s investigation via the occult, but he was for the moment so happy and enthusiastic that I couldn’t bring myself to cut him short. So I listened to Lane tell me about the houses.
“Well,” Lane said, shuffling more papers, more books, “Aries is the ruler of his second house, and it’s in his eighth house now, and that means legacies or somehow making money from the dead. And of course he’s representing Ronnie, because of Jamie’s death, so that’s that. Now, there’s a suggestion of possible imprisonment in his Leo being in the twelfth house, but without his having done anything wrong, necessarily. Having Virgo in the first house, that shows connections with the processes of the law.”
Cornell said, “The imprisonment in the twelfth house, that could be mine, not necessarily his.”
“Oh, yes, of course,” Lane said. “Now, Libra in the second house, that’s gain through the deceased again; you see, that keeps coming up. So you see, Stew’s relationship to all this is perfectly well described, and it doesn’t say anything about his being violent. Everything is done to him.”
“Tell him about the Moon,” Cornell said.
“Yes, I was going to.” More shuffling. “In Stew’s natal chart, he has the Moon in the eighth house, in adverse aspect to Mars and Uranus. Now, that means death, you see, violent or sudden death, with something peculiar about it. Having both Mars and Uranus afflicting that way, it’s really very dangerous.”
“But that means it’s done to him,” Cornell said.
“What it’s beginning to look like,” Lane said, “there might be danger of more people getting killed.”
“Of course,” Cornell said, “the Moon business is in the natal chart, so it doesn’t necessarily mean right now. But the planets in the particular houses, that describes the current situation.”
“And Stew has nothing more to do with it,” Lane finished, “than appears on the surface.”
“Now, Henry’s,” Cornell told him.
“Right.” A great deal more shuffling. I waited through it, and then Lane said, “Now. Henry has Venus in Leo, that’s compatible with Jamie, because of Jamie’s Venus in Pisces. That’s just overall. Now, the houses, the description of things, right now. His Libra, ruler of his third house, is in the eighth. That means trouble because of deaths, and possible false accusations. He’s on our suspect list, and it says right here in his horoscope that it’s a false accusation. You can’t get much more specific than that.”
“All right,” I said.
Cornell, probably knowing I was about to change the subject, quickly said, “There’s more.”
“Oh, yes, of course,” Lane said. “I was just coming to it. His Capricorn in the eleventh house suggests sickness among his friends. But, you see, not through anything he does. In fact, the implication is that it saddens him. Then the really interesting one: Aquarius in the twelfth house. Fear of imprisonment caused by close friends. Now! Doesn’t that say it? Some close friend of Henry’s killed Jamie, and created a fear of imprisonment for Henry.”
“The imprisonment in Stew’s horoscope could be read the same way,” Cornell said.
“That’s right,” Lane said. “I forgot to say that. Now, his Pisces in the first house is trouble through affairs connected with the dead. More of the same, you see. Again, a description of Henry’s situation now. And it says he’s the victim of the circumstances, and not the cause.”
Cornell said, “And in his natal chart he has the Moon in the eighth house, too, the same as Stew. With Mars afflicting, meaning violent death.”
“Yes,” Lane said, “but without Uranus afflicting, so it isn’t as dangerous.”
“But he has Uranus in the eighth house with the Moon, and that means problems arising from deaths.”
“Well, that’s what he has now,” Lane said.
“Yes, but that’s the natal chart.”
“Well, he has Pluto in the eleventh house in his natal chart,” Lane said, “and that means something mysterious in connection with his friendships.”
“Nobody knows what Pluto means,” Cornell said. “It hasn’t been studied long enough.”
“Well, we know it means things that are hidden and strange. And the eleventh house is friends.”
“So it could simply mean being homosexual,” Cornell said. “It doesn’t have to have any relevance to right now.”
This could go on forever. I said, “Excuse me for interrupting, but I have some questions of my own to ask.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Cornell said, very contrite. “I got all caught up. Yes, of course you do. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t take your time up with this, I know you don’t believe in it.”
“I just have other ways of working,” I said.
Lane said, “I’ll go on and do mine, now. I won’t interrupt.”
I said to Cornell, “You inherited those things that you and Dearborn owned jointly, is that right?”
“Yes. His money went to his sisters in Nebraska.”
“What about you?”
“Me?”
“Who inherits if you die?”
He looked blank, and then said, “My goodness, Jamie does! We did our wills at the same time, leaving everything to each other, except some private things we both had.”
“Remington handled it?”
“Yes, naturally.”
Lane suddenly said, “That isn’t right.”
We both looked at him, and he was frowning at the papers in his lap. He sensed our sudden silence, and looked up sheepishly to say, “I’m sorry. I just ran across something wrong here.”
Cornell said, “In the charts?”
“You have me with Venus in Sagittarius,” Lane said. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt. I’ll just change it here.”
Cornell said, “The state I was in, when I was doing those, I’m surprised I got anything right.”
“This is the only thing.”
They were going to go off again. I said to Cornell, “About your will. What happens if you die without changing it? Is there any contingency in there for Dearborn’s death?”
I had his frowning attention again. “I don’t remember if there is or not,” he said. “I suppose my aunt would inherit, wouldn’t she?”
“Your aunt?”
“She’s my nearest living relative. She and my uncle brought me up after my mother died. She killed herself.”
“Your mother?”
“Because my father deserted her when she got pregnant. With me. She waited till I was born, and then she killed herself.”
“So your aunt would inherit. Are you still close to her?”
“Oh, of course. That’s where Jerry and I stayed when we went down to Atlanta. I stay there every time I go South.”
“She knows about the homosexuality?”
“She doesn’t like it, naturally, but she agrees I have to live my own life.”
This looked like a dead end, but I followed it through to the finish. “Do you have any idea who inherits from your aunt?”
He smiled, a bit apologetically. “A local school,” he said. “It used to be public, and it went private rather than desegregate. A lot of the older people are leaving some
or all of their money to it.”
“What was your aunt’s attitude about your living with a black man, then?”
“She didn’t like it, any more than his being a man in the first place.”
“Actively disliked?”
“Not really. She didn’t try to interfere in my life.”
“What about when you went visiting? Ever bring Dearborn with you?”
The apologetic smile returned. “No, that I couldn’t do.”
“Dearborn knew it?”
“Jamie understood.”
Had he? I remembered what I’d been told about Dearborn’s reaction to Maundy’s craving for secrecy, that he’d found racial meanings in it and had been made upset by them. Had he been unfaithful during Cornell’s trips as revenge for Cornell not being able to bring a black man home to Atlanta?
But I had more things I wanted to cover. I said, “Did Dearborn ever do anything to Koberberg that Koberberg might resent?”
“Henry?” He seemed baffled. “But we’ve already eliminated him, we just told you.”
“I’m interested in the way you people behaved within the group,” I said. “The relationship between Dearborn and Koberberg could have meaning even if the killing was actually done by somebody else.”
He wasn’t entirely convinced—the reason I’d given him didn’t make much sense, I suppose, but it was better than contradicting his astrology head-on—but he went along with me, saying, “Well, Henry and Jamie didn’t really get along very well, but a lot of people have a hard time getting along with Henry, really.”
“Do you?”
“Well, I understand him.”
“I don’t get along with him,” Cary Lane said, looking up from his papers. “He acts too know-it-all, if you ask me.”
I said to Cornell, “Is that what Dearborn thought?”
“Pretty much like that, I guess.”
“And how did he act toward Koberberg?”
“I suppose he teased him sometimes.”
“Teased him? About what?”
“About his appearance, I suppose.”
“And his love life,” Lane said. “Jamie used to be merciless about that. No, it’s true, Ronnie, Jamie was really very sweet a lot of the time, but he could be absolutely vicious if he put his mind to it.”
I said, “And he put his mind to it with Koberberg?”
Lane came very close to giggling. “Well, there’s just something so stuffed shirt about Henry. I suppose Jamie couldn’t help tweaking him sometimes.”
“And how would Koberberg react?”
Lane said, “Oh, he used to make believe Jamie was beneath contempt, you know. Very Queen Victoria, ‘We are not amused,’ that sort of thing.” The quote was done in an excellent imitation of Henry Koberberg’s voice.
“Koberberg never fought back?”
“Well, what could he do, actually?” Lane asked.
“I don’t know. That’s why I’m asking what he did.”
Cornell said, “He never did anything. And it really wasn’t that much, just sometimes at parties or wherever. And Henry really isn’t a violent man, you know. Aside from what the stars say.”
“What about Leo Ross? Would he defend Koberberg?”
“Oh, Leo never takes anything seriously,” Cornell said. Lane had gone back to his papers. Cornell said, “Leo likes things to be light and amusing. When it would start to get serious, Leo would just go away. In anything.”
“How did he and Dearborn get along?”
“Leo? Oh, they got along fine. They both liked things to be bright and pleasant.”
“Was either of them a militant?”
“You mean in the race thing? Good Lord, no. They both just took things as they came. Leo still does, of course. But Jamie didn’t want to get involved in that kind of thing either.”
Lane, his voice a little odd, said, “Ronnie?” He was frowning at the papers in his lap.
Cornell looked over at him. “What’s the matter?”
“Look up some things for me,” Lane said, his voice still strange. “Just to check what I have over here.”
“You want me to use this book?”
I said, “I don’t have much more to talk about. Couldn’t this wait?”
Lane, when he looked at me, was obviously both frightened and upset. “Please, Mitch,” he said. “This is important, I think. And it won’t take long, I promise it won’t.”
“All right,” I said. There was nothing to be gained by antagonizing them, and I doubted I’d be able to keep Cornell’s attention even if I tried at this point. So I leaned on the foot of the bed, and watched, and listened.
Lane said, reading from his papers, “Natal chart. Mars in the third house, afflicted by Neptune.”
“Afflicted by Neptune?” Cornell was leafing through a fat book with a faded white cover. A dozen strips of paper marked places in it. “Here,” he said. “Suicidal tendencies. Violent tendencies.”
“Moon in the seventh house, afflicted by Saturn and Uranus.”
“Uhh—” Leafing pages. “Saturn adverse; sorrow through partnerships, marriage, unions. Uranus adverse; estrangement, unexpected attacks, odd experiences in connection with unions.”
“Death of partner?” Lane asked.
“Oh, yes. Generally, if bad aspected.”
“Saturn in the seventh.”
“Afflicted?”
“Yes.”
“Death of partner again. Treachery. Incompatibility. Coldness in partner.”
“Uranus in the eighth, afflicted.”
“Worry about legacies. Unexpected problems arising from deaths. Extraordinary or violent death.” Solemn-eyed, Cornell said, “Is this you?”
“Just listen. Now, in the progressed chart. Libra, ruler of first, in twelfth.”
“Ruler of first in twelfth.” Another section of the book. “Fear of imprisonment. Secret unhappiness.”
“Taurus, ruler of eighth, in seventh, afflicted.”
“Let’s see.” He read, then looked up to stare at Lane, stare at me, then look at the book again. “Death of partner. Danger of death by suicide or violence. Good Lord, Cary!”
“There’s more. Virgo, ruler of the twelfth house, in eleventh.”
“Unfortunate enterprises. Deceitful friends and great disappointments.” Cornell looked at him again. “This is you, isn’t it?”
“I’m doing David’s now,” he said. “Moon in the eighth house, natal chart.” He looked over at Cornell. “Stew and Henry both had that, too.”
“Afflicted?”
“Neptune.”
“That’s—wait just a minute. Death by treachery, or water, or drugs, or some ob—”
“Oh, my God!” Lane’s plastic face looked shrunken, hollow, as though the real skull inside it had been removed and it was slowly collapsing in on itself.
Were they actually going to drive themselves into hysterics with this? I came close to saying something, interrupting, trying to break the spell, but I had the feeling an insertion from me just now would do more harm than good, so I simply waited to see where all this would wind up.
But didn’t horoscopes always say cheerful things, like, “You are kind, witty, of quick intelligence and interested in astrology” and so on? What was all this death? What were these books?
Lane, meantime, was saying, “Mars in the eighth, afflicted.” His nervousness was making him jumble his words; they bumped and ricocheted off one another.
Cornell said, “Still in the natal chart?”
“Yes, of course!” Sudden panicky rage. “What else would it be?”
Cornell didn’t take offense, luckily. He bent to his books and said, “Sudden or violent death. Loss of legacy. Loss of money through partner. In a watery sign?”
“What? Oh! No, in Aries. An airy sign.”
“Death by mental afflictions or air accidents.” Cornell looked at Lane again and said, very low, “Mental afflictions.”
“Yes, I know. Saturn in the eleventh, a
fflicted.”
“Saturn in the eleventh. False friends. A cardinal sign?”
“Yes, Cancer.”
“Emphasizes the reading. Is that all for the natal?”
“Yes.”
“It could be any time in his life.”
“It’s talking about the end of his life, Ronnie!”
“Yes, but that could be any time.”
“My chart says I lose my partner now.”
“It could be any time in the next few weeks,” Cornell said. “And it isn’t predetermined anyway, it’s simply the leaning.”
“But everything—Wait, let me see what the progressed—” He bent over the papers and his own books, turning pages, taking notes, losing some of his incipient hysteria in his absorption with the work.
Cornell said to me, “This will take a minute or two, Mr. Tobin. I’m sorry. But if it’s true—”
“If what is true?”
“Well, you can never be absolutely sure,” he said, “but it sounds as though David is going to die.”
“Please!” Lane said, his head still bowed over the books and papers. He was trembling like a nervous dog.
I said, “Could it mean he’ll be arrested?” Whatever happened, I wanted them both calmer than this.
“It could mean all sorts—”
The door opened. Lane kept studying, but Cornell and I both turned our heads to look, and saw Detective Manzoni come into the room.
17
MANZONI SAID, “MR. TOBIN, you’re a damn fool.”
I didn’t say anything; unfortunately, Cornell did. “It isn’t Mr. Tobin’s fault, Mr. Manzoni,” he said. “I’m the one who hired him to help—”
“You hired him?”
“Yes, of course.” He didn’t get it, he didn’t know why he should keep his mouth shut. But there was no reason why he should have known any better. He said, “Mr. Tobin wouldn’t be involved in all this if it wasn’t for me, so there’s no reason to—”
“Just a minute. You. You! Wake up!”
He meant Lane, who finally sprang his head up from the books and papers, looking blank and frightened. “What? What?”
“What’s your name, is it Lane?”
“What? Yes!”
Jade in Aries Page 12
