The Madness of Mercury

by Connie Di Marco

  “Julia, you don’t understand. In the meantime, he’s ingratiating himself with my aunts. It’ll break their hearts if they find out later he’s a fake. I’m worried what it’ll do to them. There’s too much at stake to take him at face value.”

  “I agree. You’ll have to call your attorney and investigate his story.”

  Dorothy could have gone on for another hour with her diatribe. I could tell she was overreacting, in an obsessive manner that I’d witnessed before. I needed to escape. We reached the front door, and I pulled on my coat and grabbed my purse.

  “Listen, I’ll be back early,” I said. “Please don’t grind about this for now. We’ll put our heads together and figure out what to do.”

  Dorothy took a deep breath. “You’re right. Come back for dinner around five if you can make it. Richard will be here and he wants to cook. When are we starting the séance?”

  “They’ll be here at eight thirty.”

  “Fine.” Dorothy’s expression indicated she still wasn’t happy about hosting, but she seemed to have become slightly more resigned to the household circus.

  It was two p.m. by the time I reached Union Square to search for the sweater for Cheryl. The sky had darkened, promising yet another storm that afternoon or evening. Once again I parked in the underground lot, making sure to get a spot on the upper level where many people would be walking by. I certainly didn’t want a repeat of the other night. I didn’t spot any of the Prophet’s followers as I emerged from the garage. In my current mood, I might be tempted to commit assault and battery.

  The sidewalks were crowded all around the square but I managed to maneuver my way across Geary. Inside the department store, the aisles were decorated with fake greenery and large shiny balls hanging from the ceiling, and piped-in music sang of snowmen and church bells. I found a friendly saleswoman on the second floor. How anyone could manage to smile this time of year was beyond me. When I explained my errand, she brightened and said, “You’re not going to believe this! One was just returned. Let me dig it out from the back.” She left the desk and returned a few minutes later with the lovely sweater scattered with pearls.

  “Thank you! This was worth the trip down here.”

  The saleslady re-wrapped the gift in fresh tissue and placed a folded gift box inside my bag. I pictured Cheryl’s face when she opened the present and smiled to myself. And I breathed a sigh of relief that I could cross one more thing off my list. After retrieving my car without incident, I paid the fee and headed along Market to Fisherman’s Wharf. Only Gale was left on my list, and I had no ideas. The Wharf would be a zoo. It always was; just a bigger zoo this time of year. But there were several nice shops and street artists and perhaps something would call to me.

  The light turned red at the corner of Columbus and Stockton. I hit the brakes. A group of young people with the bright blue armbands of the Army of the Prophet were shoving flyers into the hands of passersby. What was the appeal? Particularly for the very young? A need to belong? Some twisted tribal urge? How easy it is for the power-hungry to seduce those who want answers. But were they that different from myself? We all want answers, we all want the “truth”—confirmation that the universe is a good place and that we’re protected from harm. We all want to believe there is an order. After all, isn’t that what astrology is all about? Who are you, Julia, I thought, to judge and look down your nose? You’re one of the lucky ones. You have no need for a Reverend Roy.

  At Fisherman’s Wharf I managed to find a parking space near the Maritime Museum; nothing short of a miracle. I walked toward the old Ghirardelli chocolate factory, now converted into artisan shops, and meandered through a warren of small stores in a brick-lined alley. I was pretty sure I hadn’t been followed the last day or so, but I glanced over my shoulder occasionally to reassure myself. In one window I spotted a small lamp fashioned from deeply tanned goat skins and shaped in an asymmetrical, three-sided pyramid. It cast a lovely muted light. I knew Gale would love one of these. It would appeal to her taste for the exotic and tribal. Discreetly, I checked the price tag and was overjoyed to find it reasonable. I paid and, clutching my find, hurried back to the car. At the corner, I saw yet another group wearing the armbands of the Army of the Prophet and passing out more flyers. I crossed the street and ignored them, as did many others. A stray flyer flew through the air and landed on the sidewalk in front of me, marked by the same bold Gothic lettering. The Prophet was everywhere.

  I pulled out of my parking space and maneuvered to get free of the bumper to bumper traffic. As I reached Columbus, I hit a red light and heard sirens. Across the divided street, a police car had pulled up in front of a building that housed a women’s clinic. Two patrol cars were already double parked there. Again I spotted the bright blue armbands in the crowd. The clinic, I happened to know, offered low-cost medical care, family planning, and abortions. A young woman sat on the curb, crying, blood running down her face. The police had lined four men up against the wall of the building. An officer had cuffed one of the men and was moving him into the back of a patrol car. A curious crowd had gathered to watch. No one seemed to notice the young woman at the curb. A horn blasted behind me. I looked up quickly. The light had turned to green and an angry driver was glaring at me. I hit the gas and didn’t stop until I turned the corner on Broadway.

  At the Mystic Eye, twenty or so people were kneeling outside on the sidewalk. The Army’s dance card was really full today. I drove past slowly and rolled down my car window to get a better look. One man held a large sign that read “BLASPHEMERS.” I saw two transvestites in full gear prancing around the prayer meeting, laughing and shouting epithets. An angry man came out of a Vietnamese restaurant two doors up, lugging a large bucket of bilge water which he aimed downhill toward the Mystic Eye. The small flood got everyone to their feet. The action had halted traffic. I sat in my car, transfixed by the scene, until a horn blared behind me again. I pulled around the corner on Stockton and drove down the alley to park in back of the shop.

  This wasn’t good. The client I was meeting would be completely freaked, and I wasn’t even sure she’d manage to make her way through the crowd. This had to stop. It would deal a serious blow to the shop’s budget, not to mention what it would do to my income. I turned off the engine, hopped out, and pushed on the Eye’s back door. It was unlocked. I could hear Gale shouting as I came through from the back room.

  “They’ve had it. Reverend Roy and his followers are finished,” she hissed. Cheryl was manning the counter of the empty shop.

  Gale rushed to the front door and pulled it open. “Barbarians!” she screamed at them. “Freaks! Go back to whatever hole you crawled out of. I’ve called the police!” Her outburst seemed to have no effect. The crowd was singing a lugubrious hymn as they moved in a circle.

  Gale returned to the threshold and slammed the door behind her. “Julia!”

  “I’m supposed to be meeting a client here, but I doubt she’ll show with this going on.” As if on cue, my cell phone rang.

  “Hi, Julia?”

  “Yes.”

  “My God, what’s happening? I just drove by the Mystic Eye and there are people out there singing and blocking the entrance.”

  “I know. I’m here now. If you pull into the alleyway, you can park in back. I’ll meet you at the back door. The police are on their way, so no need to be afraid.”

  “This is too much, Julia. I really don’t want to go anywhere near that crowd.”

  “I apologize. I’m very sorry this is happening. Would you like to reschedule for another time?”

  “I really don’t think so. You can’t possibly expect me to go anywhere near that shop. I don’t know what I was thinking. I’m not even sure I believe in astrology.” The line went dead. She’d hung up.

  I groaned.

  Gale glanced over. “What’s wrong?”

  “Just lost a client.”

  “Well, it’s her loss. Don’t dwell on it. But do get away from that window. Who
knows what they’ll do next.”

  While I watched, a few passersby shouted obscenities at the picketers. A woman wearing a white apron came out of the Italian café across the street and shook her fist. Then she pulled two overripe tomatoes out of her apron pocket and, waiting for a break in traffic, walked to the middle of the street, then hauled off and pelted a couple of the marchers. It had no effect. They stared at her and called out “Join the Lord” as they continued marching.

  I walked to the back of the shop and peered out. None of the Prophet’s followers were in sight. They probably thought they’d get more attention in plain sight on Broadway. I heard sirens and returned to the front. The police were busy dispersing the crowd, most of whom had skittered away as soon as they saw the police.

  Gale rushed outside and I followed her. She stood with her hands on her hips talking to one of the patrolmen. “Look, I want someone here at all times. Aren’t there off-duty cops that want some extra work? I know they’ll work on film shoots.”

  The two men listened patiently. One of them finally spoke. “You’ll have to talk to the watch captain about that, but I’m sure you could arrange it. It’ll cost some money though.”

  “I don’t care. I just don’t want those crazy people anywhere near my shop. I don’t want them in the city at all.”

  “We can cite them for gathering without a permit, or interfering on city property, but other than that, they’re entitled to their opinions.”

  “Like hell they are.” Gale was spitting mad. The second cop slid his eyes to the other to gauge his reaction. The first officer seemed more sympathetic.

  “I agree with you,” he said. “I don’t like them either. They’ve caused a lot of problems in other locations too. But unless they break the law, there’s not much we can do. Do you know who any of these individuals are? Can you give us any information about them?”

  Gale took a deep breath. I could see she was struggling to calm down. “They’re connected to the Reverend Roy and the Prophet’s Tabernacle, but other than that, I don’t have any names. I want you to talk to the detective in charge at the SFPD. I’ll get you his name. He’s the one investigating the arson attempt.”

  The second patrolman, not so well informed, asked, “You mean the guy with the TV show? What do they call it … Prophet TV ?”

  “He’s hassling everybody, especially in this part of town. He holds his meetings up on Mason. He says he’s waging war on sin in San Francisco,” Gale replied sarcastically.

  “He’s got his work cut out for him then,” the older officer guffawed. “But seriously, we’ve had a lot of complaints all over town and everyone says the same thing. The Reverend’s behind it. Hard to believe. He does a lot of good things in the city. He helps a lot of people.”

  Gale nodded. “Sure he does, as long as you’re in complete agreement with him. He’s got a mandate from God.”

  TWENTY-SIX

  BY THE TIME I returned to the Gamble house, the wind had picked up and the sky had darkened to a deep charcoal color. It suited my mood. Come to think of it, I hadn’t seen the sun for several days. The possibility of a rare thunderstorm had even been predicted—rare for San Francisco, that is. Dorothy was again in the kitchen, but this time she wasn’t working. She sat while Richard chopped herbs and sliced lemons.

  “Julia, come on in.” She smiled, but her eyes looked tired. “Dinner will be ready soon.”

  Richard wore a long white apron and waved a spatula at me. He’d made himself at home. I wondered what kind of pressure he might be putting on Dorothy to move her aunts out. I was curious, but Dorothy was overly sensitive on the subject. If I said anything at all to her, I’d have to tread carefully.

  “I’d love some, Richard,” I said instead. “What are you making?”

  “Chicken with lemon and capers. We have some mashed potatoes and broccoli too. Simple stuff, nothing fancy.”

  Dorothy laid three large dinner plates on the table. “Gudrun brought up a tray earlier for herself and my aunts, so we can eat in peace.”

  “What time are your friends arriving?” Richard asked.

  “Nikolai said eight thirty. Hope that’s not too late.”

  “No, that’s fine,” Dorothy replied. “Gives us time to straighten up before he gets here. Richard, you’ll stay, I hope.”

  Richard doled out the chicken breasts on each of our plates, adding a large scoop of mashed potatoes and small broccoli trees. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world. I’m sure Evandra will be very happy if she’s able to contact Lily across the void.” He gave me a conspiratorial wink. “What does one do at this type of soirée?”

  I shook my head. “Don’t ask me. It’s my first and only experience. I just hope it doesn’t upset your aunts, Dorothy.”

  Dorothy cut the tender chicken with her fork. “Uh … something I should mention … Eunice and Gudrun will not take part.”

  “Really? Why?”

  “The Prophet doesn’t believe in séances, or so he’s conveyed to both of them.”

  “Don’t forget what I told you.”

  “What’s that?” Richard turned from the stove.

  “Oh, Julia saw Gudrun at one of those meetings,” Dorothy replied.

  “You did?” Richard looked at me quizzically. “You went to one? Are you converting?”

  I snorted. “Hardly. I just wanted to warn Dorothy to keep an eye on Gudrun. I don’t trust her at all.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me about this?” Richard demanded.

  Dorothy seemed flustered. “I don’t know. It doesn’t really worry me. So what if Gudrun is a believer?”

  “I have to agree with Julia. I don’t like it at all,” he replied.

  Dorothy made an effort to change the subject. “All that aside, if Gudrun and Eunice won’t attend the séance, then there’s just the three of us, plus Evandra, Reggie, and your friend—what’s his name?”

  “Nikolai. And he’ll bring Zora with him. She’s the medium.”

  Dorothy heaved a sigh. “Well, it’ll be nothing if not entertaining.”

  “Speaking of Reggie, where is he?”

  “Out. And he can stay gone for all I care. Evandra’s been making a fuss over him all day and I can’t stomach it. At the very least he’s a freeloader, at the worst … well, we’ll see, won’t we? And before I forget … ” She leaned over and spoke quietly, pulling a piece of paper out of her pocket. Richard had turned away and was running water in the sink to soak the pans. “I managed to get some information from Reggie’s passport while he was in the shower.” She passed the folded piece of paper to me under the table.

  I wasn’t so ready to let the subject of the Prophet go. “Dorothy, how long has Gudrun been with your aunts?”

  “I guess about a year now. The last woman we hired moved out of the city, and I found Gudrun through an agency. She was highly recommended.”

  “She’s very involved in that cult, Dorothy.”

  “She’s never said much about it to me. And from what Eunice has said, it all sounds harmless enough.”

  “Let’s talk later,” I whispered.

  Richard picked up our dinner plates. “Anybody for coffee and dessert?”

  “I’ll get some cookies.” Dorothy started to rise from her chair.

  “Relax. I’ll get them.” I went into the pantry and found a tin decorated with sprightly reindeer cavorting across a snowy landscape. Richard followed me in.

  “Oh, no, not those.” He plucked them quickly out of my hand. I stepped away from him. “Those are Evandra’s special cookies I make for her,” he explained. “Dorothy helps me, of course—she’s the expert baker. But Evandra would never forgive you for eating them.” He reached up to another shelf and passed me a square tin. “Go ahead and put these out. Chocolate.”

  I nodded and carried the tin to the table. This was the first I’d heard that Evandra had a special diet. I opened it and put several of the cookies on a plate and passed them to Dorothy.

  “Julia, you
look as tired as I feel. You need some sleep.”

  I’d caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror in the hallway and I had to agree. The strain of moving twice, threats to my life, staying in a strange house, broken sleep, and running around town had more than left me drained. “Maybe I will rest for a bit. Richard, thanks for dinner. It was delicious.”

  I left the kitchen and climbed the stairs. The door to my room was open, and Wizard was curled up in a ball on a knitted throw on top of a chair. When he saw me he leapt up on the bed, purring, and pushed his head into my hand.

  I shut the door, kicked off my shoes, and pulled the comforter over me. Wizard burrowed under the covers with me, poking his nose out from the edge. Right now my cat was the only soul who gave me a sense of home. I rubbed his fur. “I don’t blame you, Wiz. We have to get our home back soon.”

  The storm had arrived. I heard the rain, gentle at first and then increasing in fury, lashing against the windowpane as I slid into unconsciousness and a deep, dreamless sleep.

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  TAPPING AT THE DOOR woke me. I was disoriented for a few seconds. I wasn’t sure where I was or what day it might be. I called out, “Come in.”

  The door opened and Dorothy stepped into the bedroom. She sat on the edge of the bed. “Feel better?”

  “Oh, yes.” I rubbed my eyes.

  It’s almost eight o’clock. Thought you’d like a wakeup call.”

  “I really did crash. Dorothy?”

  “Yes?”

  “Can I talk to you about something?” Her expression became serious. I pushed the comforter back and sat up on the bed. “This is really hard for me to ask you.”

  “What is it?”

  “I looked over your family’s charts recently. And I noticed that Richard’s Neptune connected with two very sensitive points in Evandra’s chart.”

  “What are trying to say?” Dorothy’s eyes darkened.

  “Is there anything she’s taking in, whether food or meds, that Richard gives her? Something that no one else in the house eats? Perhaps she’s allergic to something, like I’ve mentioned earlier.”