The Madness of Mercury

by Connie Di Marco

  “Thanks for today. Sorry I had to barge in unexpectedly.”

  “Not a problem. As you can see, we’re not exactly crowded.”

  A petite blond with tons of energy, Cheryl had stumbled into the Eye six months ago when she saw a Help Wanted sign in the window. She’d just left her cheating husband and hadn’t worked since college. When asked for a résumé, she burst into tears. Gale, for all her exterior toughness, is a true softie. She led Cheryl into the back room of the shop, made some coffee, and listed to her tale. Gale needed someone to manage the shop, and Cheryl needed friends and a new home. Gale hired her on the spot.

  “I’m just lucky my client was willing to meet me here,” I said. “She would have been perfectly justified in telling me to forget it. Were they here too?”

  Cheryl glanced at me sharply. “What do you mean, ‘too’?” Her voice rose a few octaves, as it always does when she’s upset or nervous. It makes her sound like she’s on helium.

  “They were at my apartment this morning, outside on the sidewalk marching around. That’s why I rushed here to meet my client.” I neglected to mention the choice threats that had been hurled at me. “What happened here?”

  Cheryl groaned. “Pretty much the same thing. They scared off my customers. I’m sure we have Reverend Roy and the Prophet’s Tabernacle to thank.”

  “Prophet’s Tabernacle? Why does that ring a bell?”

  “Don’t tell me you haven’t heard of him? Look at this!” Cheryl handed me a flyer advertising daily services every evening at six o’clock. The page was peppered with Biblical quotations and at the center was a photo of a man in long robes, his arms outstretched as if welcoming his flock. He wore a saintly expression. His hair was combed back into a high pompadour. “While those freaks were picketing the Eye, they were passing these out to everyone on the street.”

  “What do they want? Where did this guy come from?”

  “Crawled out of the swamps of Louisiana apparently. He’s supposed to be a real ordained minister, but it looks more like revival stuff to me. He’s here, he says”—Cheryl’s voice dropped to a mocking tone—“because San Francisco is a hotbed of blasphemy and devil worship.” She slammed a pile of books on the counter. “He’s on television. He’s got that ridiculous show, Prophet TV. They should call it Profit TV, as in ‘send me money.’” She took a deep breath. “He’s raising hell all over town. His followers call themselves the Army of the Prophet and they target anyone who speaks out against them. He’s after the gays, the strip clubs, abortion clinics, occult bookshops like ours, psychics, you name it.” Cheryl hesitated when she saw the expression on my face. “What is it?”

  “A few days ago, the paper printed one of my Zodia responses. A woman wrote because she was worried her mother was planning to sign over her property to some religious group. I just remembered. Could it be the same group?”

  “What did you write to her?”

  “Just the obvious, I guess. Advice to have this church checked out, find a lawyer to deal with the situation. My thought was that the mother was martyring herself. I think I spouted off a bit about scams and false prophets. It wouldn’t be the first time my big mouth got me in hot water. I can go back and check my emails.”

  “Well, now you know why they’re after you. But you’re not the only one, believe me. I’ve got a call in to Gale. She’ll have a fit! The cops chased those psychos off today, but they’ll be back.”

  “Cheryl, this is the twenty-first century. It’s San Francisco. Who would listen to this guy?”

  “Every nut job from Sonoma County to Daly City and beyond, apparently. He’s got a big following. They hold meetings at the old theater on Mason Street, and they fill the house if you can believe it.” Her voice was rising. She was still upset.

  I filled Cheryl in on the details of the emails and the threatening phone call. “I’m sure my personal information was leaked from the newspaper. How else could they know where I live and my home phone number? I don’t advertise. My clientele is strictly word of mouth, and I always know who’s referred whom.”

  “What do they have to say at the paper?”

  “They’ve promised to investigate. But the horse is out of the barn, or whatever the expression is, if they know where I live.”

  “I hate bigots.” Cheryl slammed another pile of books down on the counter.

  I smiled. “I think that’s an oxymoron. But if you’re going to hate any group, why not bigots?” I finished unpacking the last box and dusted off my hands.

  “What are you doing now?” Cheryl asked.

  “I figured I’d stop up the hill to see Dorothy.”

  “Oh,” Cheryl gasped. “I’m so sorry. I totally spaced. Gale called this morning and told me what happened. I was just so caught up with the chaos here, it slipped my mind. Are you sure you want to go back?”

  “I think Dorothy could use the company, and her aunt is a new client. I was checking the aunt’s lunar returns and I promised I’d see her today. But do you need me here? I’d be glad to help out.”

  “No, that’s okay. We’re hardly busy, as you can see. The police promised to check a couple more times before their shift ends. Frankly, it was weird, now that I think of it.” Cheryl stared off into space. “They didn’t seem all that … sympathetic. They just looked at me like I was speaking a foreign language. They didn’t even want to make a report, but I insisted.” She sighed. “Gale’ll be here later anyway. I’ll be fine.”

  “Okay.” I leaned over and gave her a hug. “I’ll be close by and I have my cell if you need me.” I left by the back door and climbed into my car. I pulled slowly out of the alleyway onto Broadway. I wondered if I should file a police report myself? The Army of the Prophet had to be behind the disturbance at my apartment, but I had no real proof, no one I could name. I remembered Ann’s promise to talk to the police. Hopefully she had.

  SEVEN

  MY ENGINE COUGHED AS I downshifted and climbed Filbert Street to the Gamble house. I’ve always loved the view from Coit Tower at the top of Telegraph Hill. It’s definitely the most breathtaking in the city. My grandmother loved it too, and one of our favorite things to do when I was a kid was to hike to the top. The hill was named for the wooden semaphore, the arms of which once signaled city merchants, giving them cargo details of ships entering the Golden Gate. Merchants could then predict upcoming local prices. A decade later, with the advent of the electrical telegraph, the structure was obsolete. The wooden armature was torn down, but the name given to the hill remained.

  I pulled to the right as far as I could and then executed a U-turn, parking in front of the house, making sure to curb my wheels as the street signs constantly admonish us. The sky was a dark steely gray, promising another winter downpour, while the temperature hung in the low forties. Ivy branches, bereft of leaves, twined over the dark, brick-fronted façade. Through frosted windows, I could see the front room lit by several lamps. A figure moved near a tall Christmas tree. I scrambled out, lugging my case, and pulled my hood up against the wind. I hurried across the street and knocked. A few second later, Dorothy swung the door open. Her face was wreathed in smiles. “Julia, come on in.”

  “Is this a good time? I should have called first.”

  “It’s fine. We’ve been expecting you. Evandra will be delighted.”

  A tall man appeared behind Dorothy in the open doorway. He was heavyset with dark, graying hair and wore a long-sleeved shirt under a sweater vest. He reached around Dorothy to grasp my hand. “Hello. You must be Julia. I’m Richard. Richard Sanger.” His grip was strong. “Come in. I’ve heard so much about you, I feel like I know you.”

  I smiled in response. I’d heard a lot about him as well but wasn’t about to bring up any details. I was taken aback he was there, but I tried to cover my surprise for Dorothy’s sake. We’d just discussed Richard that morning and, estranged though they were, here he was in the flesh. Was he just visiting? Or had Dorothy not listened to a thing I’d said?


  As I stepped inside, I caught Dorothy’s eye and looked at her quizzically. She smiled, and as Richard headed for the living room, she leaned closer and whispered, “He stopped by to see me and to make sure I don’t need anything. Don’t worry. I’m taking it slow.”

  “That’s good,” I whispered back for lack of a better response. A knot had formed in my stomach.

  “Grab a seat in the living room, Julia. Would you like some tea or coffee?”

  “Tea sounds great. Anything that’s hot.”

  “I’ve got some in a pot right now. I’ll bring it in.”

  I stepped into the living room and shed my coat, dropping it with my bag on the nearest chair. A ten-foot-tall Christmas tree stood in front of the center window.

  “It’s beautiful. Where did you find such a big one?”

  Richard, balanced on a stepladder, replied. “I had it delivered. Isn’t it a beauty? Really fresh too. I figured I better—Dorothy certainly never would have thought of it.” Criticism already, I thought. He was placing tiny white lights around the circumference of the tree. Starting at the top, he had worked his way halfway down. He stretched as far as he could, then climbed down and moved the ladder to another position.

  Dorothy returned with a tray loaded with a teapot and cups and saucers. “I should warn you. Evandra’s been in a state since … well, since Luis … ” She trailed off and poured the tea. She placed a cup on the table for me. “Would you like cream or sugar?”

  “No thanks. Just straight.”

  “I’m so worried about her. I found her in the hallway last night wandering up and down and talking to herself. Almost as if she were hallucinating. Maybe you were right about the … what was it, a Neptune transit?” Dorothy sat heavily in the armchair across from me and reached over to pour another cup for herself. “She’s very upset. Eunice too. I’ve been doing everything possible to keep them both calm.

  Richard had finished stringing the lights and now was unpacking boxes of antique ornaments. He turned to Dorothy. “These are really old. Don’t we have some better decorations?”

  “They love those antique ornaments, Richard.” She smiled, but I caught a flicker of defensiveness in her eyes. Her voice took on a sharper tone. “I just haven’t had a chance to go shopping for anything, much less ornaments.”

  Richard started to retort, then thought better of it.

  I took a last sip of tea. “I’ll leave you to the decorations. I’ll just go up and say hello to Evandra.” If they were going to argue, I didn’t want to be a witness. I grabbed my case and climbed the stairs to the dark wood-lined hallway. I walked to the end and knocked on Evandra’s door.

  The door opened immediately and I was face to face with a woman at least six feet tall, large-boned, and heavy in the hips. This had to be Gudrun, their live-in companion. Her hair was dyed a dark red and pulled back in a severe bun. She wore a skirt and a double-breasted navy blazer that would have been more appropriate at a boys’ school. She spoke with a strong guttural accent.

  “Yaass?” she inquired.

  “Hello. I’m Julia. I’m here to see Evandra.”

  “Julia, my dear, come in. I’m so happy you came today,” Evandra called out from behind the heavy door. “Let her in. Let her in right away, Gudrun.”

  Gudrun sniffed but stood back to let me enter. The scent of lavender permeated the room. Evandra was ensconced in her cushioned armchair and another elderly woman sat opposite on a delicate loveseat, her feet barely reaching the floor. In the light from the window, Evandra’s complexion had a gray tone I hadn’t noticed the day before. A tea tray sat on a small low table in front of the loveseat.

  “You’re having tea. Is this a bad time?”

  “Not at all, my dear. You haven’t met my sister Eunice yet, I don’t think.” Evandra waved a thin hand, indicating that I should draw nearer. “Sit here, close to me.”

  Eunice wore a delicate flowered gown, a pale pink shawl wrapped around her shoulders. “I understand you’re an astrologer,” she twittered. “You seem like such a nice young woman. Isn’t that rather dangerous?” Her delicate voice belied her frank statement.

  “Dangerous?” I felt I had missed something.

  “The Reverend tells us that studying the occult is devil’s work.”

  Oh no, could it be?

  “Do shut up, Eunice,” Evandra snapped. “Don’t insult Julia. Your Reverend, I’m sure, is full of the proverbial horse pucky.”

  “Is not!” Eunice retorted, her cheeks blushing suddenly. “He knows about these things.”

  Evandra turned to me. “Eunice has become enchanted with a local snake oil salesman and has Gudrun driving her to these disgusting revival meetings.”

  I glanced at Eunice. She looked crestfallen. “They are services, and they are very inspiring. The Reverend says I can even join the congregation at Prophet’s Paradise anytime I want.”

  “Prophet’s Paradise?” I asked.

  “Yes, that’s the Reverend’s nature community up north.” She turned back to her sister.“If you’re going to be so judgmental, Evandra, I just might do that,” she sniffed.

  “You’re welcome to, dear. I won’t have any of that nonsense in this house, so just keep your mouth shut about it.”

  Eunice’s collar held several tiny jeweled pins. She noticed my look. “Yes, they’re bees, my dear. The most important life form on the planet, you know.”

  “Eunice! She doesn’t want to hear about that,” Evandra hissed.

  “But she must. It’s terribly important.” Eunice looked imploringly at me. “You know, dear Albert said that if the bees disappear, we won’t last very long.”

  I wasn’t sure which Albert she was referring to. I felt as if I had stepped back in time. Did she mean Victoria and Albert?

  Evandra saw my expression. “She means Einstein. Eunice, please, we have company now. Let’s not talk nonsense.”

  “But it’s not nonsense.” Eunice turned to me. “I have studied, you see. I was at Berkeley. They did allow women in those days, even though Father wouldn’t hear of my working in the field. It wasn’t considered proper for a young lady in my social position.” She shot a scathing look at her sister. “That’s why I wear them.” She brushed her fingers lightly over her collar. “To honor them. To let them know how important they are. To help them survive.”

  Evandra turned her head slightly. “Gudrun, would you please run down and bring us another cup and a fresh pot so we can visit with Julia?” Gudrun had been standing at attention by the door, as if I would be required to leave very soon. She nodded sullenly.

  “I can go. There’s no need to have Gudrun … ”

  “No dear, stay here with me for a bit.”

  Gudrun turned and left the room, shutting the door quietly behind her.

  “I heard you weren’t doing so well today.” I addressed Evandra.

  “So strange. Dorothy told me I was wandering last night, but I really don’t remember. I’m fine now, just very tired. I really don’t need the doctor.” She hesitated and glanced at her sister. “Eunice, could we have a few minutes alone?”

  Eunice pursed her lips, obviously unhappy to be asked to leave. “I’ll speak with you later, Julia.” Carrying her tea cup, she tripped daintily out of the room. As soon as the door shut behind her, Evandra gripped my hand.

  “You heard about Luis, didn’t you?”

  “Yes. I was here.”

  “Well! I told you, didn’t I? You didn’t believe me,” she said in a quavering voice.

  I wasn’t following Evandra’s logic. “What didn’t I believe?”

  “That it was meant for me. He was murdered. I know it.”

  “I’ve heard Luis had a heart condition and might have fallen.”

  “Hah! I don’t believe that for a minute. I may be old, but I’m not stupid.”

  “What do you think happened?”

  “Why, she did it.”

  “Dorothy?”

  “Of course. That’s why she’
s staying here with us.” Evandra leaned forward as if someone were eavesdropping. “She doesn’t give a hoot about me, but once my sister and I are gone, she inherits everything. She’s the last of the family, so she’ll get this house, the investments, everything. That’s how the trust was set up.”

  Dorothy had never mentioned this to me, but it made sense. Who else would inherit? “Evandra, I’m sorry. I don’t mean to dismiss your fears, but it can’t be possible. I was with Dorothy in the kitchen when it happened.” I felt I had to inject some reality into this conversation.

  “I don’t know how she did it, but she did it. She did something to him. For all we know, he may have been dead before he hit that rock.”

  I hardly knew what to say. “I’ve known Dorothy for some time. She’s been my client, and it’s … it’s very difficult to believe she could be capable of such a thing.”

  The old lady nodded her head wisely and a crafty look came into her eyes. “Happens more often than you would suspect, my dear. You see, we’re the last of the Gambles, my sister and I. Everyone has passed over, so, as I said, it will all go to Dorothy once we’re gone. She’s the last living heir. The trust was set up by my grandfather. We draw an annuity, and there are some real estate holdings in the city as well. In the normal course of events, the bulk of it would have gone to the next male heir, with generous allowances for anyone else, but since there is no male heir, and Dorothy’s past childbearing years, it will all go to her.

  “I see.” I thought for a moment. “I know Dorothy’s parents are dead, but I think she once mentioned there was an Australian branch.”

  “No. Although we hoped there was, for many years. You see, my grandfather, Elisha Gamble, was born in the late ’60s.”

  I raised my eyebrows.

  “The late 1860s, dear,” Evandra continued. “He made his fortune in the silver mines. He had one sister, Lily, who died under mysterious circumstances. But that’s another story I’ll tell you some other time. Elisha had one son, Lysander, who was my father. And my mother’s name was Evangeline.”