The Madness of Mercury (12 page)

One of the firemen spoke. “That’s your privilege, ma’am, but I assure you, we’ll document everything, we’ll collect evidence, we’ll check for fingerprints and anything we can find.”

The detective stepped forward. “You’re absolutely right. It’s very serious and we’re not minimizing this. I just find it hard to believe you’re accusing the Reverend Roy. Do you have any evidence? Have they threatened you?”

“Trust me. I know that sick son of a bitch is behind this.”

“Now, ma’am … ”

“I told you not to ma’am me, didn’t I?”

I walked over to Gale’s side and put an arm around her. She needed to calm down. She was on the verge of tears. “Oh, Julia, I’m so glad you’re here.” Her voice broke.

“Let them do what they can do tonight. You can talk to the lawyer tomorrow.” I gave the detective a dirty look for even attempting to defend the Army of the Prophet.

Gale took a deep breath and did her best to calm down. “Fine. Do your thing. I want the name of your supervisor in the department and I’ll be on the phone to him or her first thing tomorrow.”

The detective stepped closer and reached into his pocket. “Here’s my card. I’ll write my captain’s name on the back and his number.” He scribbled for a few moments and replaced his pen in his pocket. “I’ll have a patrol car come by and keep watch a few times tonight, just to keep an eye on things. Do you have someone who can secure that back window for you?”

“Yes. I have a handyman. I can try to reach him.”

“I’ll stop in tomorrow if you’ll be here and we can talk some more. There might be something you remember that you’re not recalling right now.”

In the back room, someone had unplugged the small fan. Shards of glass littered the threshold and the floor. A firefighter stood by while another took photos of the debris and a charred section of the wall and floor. I smelled gasoline and another pungent odor I couldn’t identify. I stepped gingerly around the scene, tiny pieces of glass crunching under my feet.

Gale joined me in the rear storeroom. Her jaw was clenched. “Julia, if I hadn’t had those fire extinguishers, I don’t know what would have happened. This old building is a tinderbox. People were asleep upstairs. Thank heavens you were here and we managed to put it out.”

“Have you called Cheryl yet?”

“No. And I’m not going to. Let her get some rest. I’ll catch her early tomorrow before she comes in. Look, I’m sorry I panicked earlier. I just had to call somebody.”

“Don’t you dare apologize. I’d be furious if you hadn’t called. If you can find some plywood and a drill and some screws, I can cover up that opening.”

“Can you? You handy girl! That would be great. I’d hate to call Edwin this late. I know he’d come, he’s wonderful, but I don’t want to drag him out of bed.” Gale turned in a circle, surveying the room. “I think there’s a few small pieces of plywood around. I’ll find everything for you.”

It was another hour and a half before the firefighters left. Two patrolmen had turned up who stayed with us until everything was secured. Once that was done, we all left by the rear entrance.

“Follow me home,” Gale said. “I can give you one of my coats.”

“I’ll be fine. Don’t worry.”

She reached over and squeezed my hand. “But your coat’s ruined.”

“I have plenty of clothes. No great loss. But I think I should follow
you
home.”

“What? You think someone might attack me?”

“I don’t know what to think. If they’re capable of endangering us and so many others, they’re capable of anything. I just want to make sure no one’s watching us to see where you live. They already know where to find me, but you’re still an unknown. They haven’t put your face or your home address together. And I don’t want them to. Don’t argue.”

The patrolmen watched from their black-and-white while we climbed into our cars. We pulled out onto Broadway and I followed Gale up the hill to Hyde Street and her Russian Hill condo. I pulled over to the curb and watched while she entered the circular drive. The night doorman approached and opened her door. Gale stepped out and waved to me. I waited until she was safely inside her building, grateful she lived in a secure place. I doubted whoever threw that bomb had hung around to wait for the police, and I was fairly certain we hadn’t been followed.

E
LEVEN

T
HE FOLLOWING MORNING, THE
smell of smoke and gasoline still lingered in my nostrils and my hair. My head was pounding and some low level of noise had interrupted my sleep. Wizard jumped on the bed and howled at me. I lifted my head and stared at him groggily. “Wiz.” He meowed loudly again. “What’s the matter?”

Then I heard it. Far away. Chanting. I jumped out of bed and rushed down the hall to the living room windows. Shouts carried up from below, most of it coming from my neighbors across the street. Today, fifty people—I counted—were marching in a circle and chanting something I couldn’t make out. They carried a large effigy of a witch on a broomstick draped in black cloth with a crazy Halloween hat on its head.

I peeked sideways from the edge of the drape and spotted Ann standing on her front steps next door, a slender figure in her bathrobe. Her hair hung in ringlets around her face. She must have been woken from a dead sleep. She pulled her robe closer and craned her neck to look up at my window. She held a fist up to her ear to indicate she’d call me.

I was so focused on the commotion below I almost didn’t notice, but a flash of light caught my eye. A man in dark clothing with binoculars stood on the next street, 31st Avenue, on the other side of the tennis court that connects the streets and provides a clear line of sight. The watcher had an unobstructed view of the proceedings. The light reflecting from the lens of his binoculars had given him away. Otherwise, I might not have noticed him. Something about his body language implied a focus and control of the situation. It was nothing I could put my finger on, but I was certain this man was in charge of orchestrating the chaos below my windows. Was he the man in the ski mask who’d been waiting in my car? There was no way to know. I’d only seen that person’s eyes. I couldn’t possibly identify him even if he was right in front of me.

A moment later, the phone rang. “Can you believe they’re back?” It was Ann. “They’ve painted something on the sidewalk, but I couldn’t get a good look.”

“Hang on.” Holding the phone to my ear, I peeked through the living room drapes, trying not to be seen while I watched the circus below.

“Julia, I’ve called the police and I’m sure other people have too. I’m so sorry this is happening to you. You don’t deserve this.”

I moved away from the window. “Thanks, Ann, I—”

I heard a crash. The window exploded and a large rock rolled across the carpet inches from where I stood. Shards of glass littered the living room. Wizard leaped from his chair at the sound and skittered down the hallway to the bedroom.

Ann shouted, “What was that?”

“A rock just came through my window. I’ll call you back.” I was furious. I slammed down the phone and ran to the bedroom. I pulled on my jeans and a sweater and opened the back door. I hauled the end of a fifty foot garden hose to the kitchen sink and attached it to the faucet. Then I lugged the other end of the hose, uncoiling it as I dragged it to the living room. I opened an unbroken window a few inches and wedged the end of the hose against the windowsill. I ran back to the kitchen and turned the water on full blast. The force of the pressure was causing water to spew wildly over the street and sidewalk. I hurried back to the living room and grabbed the end of the hose. I aimed it directly at the followers of the Prophet, particularly the man carrying the effigy of a witch.

I managed to give one or two a good soaking before the rest scattered out of range of my hose. I only wished I’d had boiling oil to dump on them. Best I could hope for was that a few of them might catch pneumonia in the cold. I was just starting to have some fun when a cruiser pulled around the corner from Clement Street. But that didn’t slow me down—the high pressure stream of water could still reach a few standing in the street.

The cruiser pulled into the driveway of the building next door. Two patrolmen climbed out, an older man and a rookie. The man in charge looked up at the window and shouted. “Lady, turn that thing off. Now!”

I glared at him and then aimed the hose at a particularly loud woman. At that moment, I didn’t care what the police thought.

“Ma’am. Now!”

I managed to soak a few more before I slammed the window on the hose and walked calmly back to the kitchen to turn the faucet off.

Down on the sidewalk, I saw one of the officers talking to a man and a woman they’d cornered, pointing to the front of my building. I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but a minute later the doorbell rang. As I opened my door, I realized I was at a definite disadvantage. My teeth weren’t brushed and my hair was sticking up all over my head. I smelled of burned soot from the fire the night before. In an effort to stay in control, I demanded, “Are you going to arrest those freaks?”

The officer shook his head. “Look, they’re gathering without a permit. They’re disturbing the peace. We can issue citations and charge them with defacing city property, namely your sidewalk, and they’ll have to appear before a judge.”

“What? My sidewalk? That’s it? They can harass me and my neighbors and that’s all you can do? They threw a rock through my window!”

“Did you see the person who threw the rock?”

“No, I didn’t, but that’s not the point. They’re all guilty of harassment.”

“Those are misdemeanor charges. They can be forced to pay for any damage. Have they threatened you in any way?”

“These are the same people who’ve been threatening me with phone calls and emails and hangups. Those maniacs are from the Prophet’s Tabernacle. They were here yesterday doing the very same thing. My neighbor filed a complaint. I’d call that harassment and threats, wouldn’t you?”

“What did you say?” He cocked his head.

“You heard me. They call themselves the Army of the Prophet.”

The older patrolman’s face hardened. “Maybe you’ve offended the Reverend in some way.”

A chill ran through me. Then I saw red. “I frankly don’t give a crap if the
Reverend
is offended, and if I can personally find a way to offend him further, believe me, I will. I thought your job was to ‘protect and serve,’ not keep order for a fascist masquerading as a man of God.” By now I was shouting.

The officer’s face grew stonier. His lips were a thin line. He was doing his best to control his temper. I had already given up that battle. “We’ll file a report today, but by all rights, they could charge
you
with assault.”

“With a garden hose? After what they’ve done? I don’t
think
so.”

“Wouldn’t amount to much, but could cause you some trouble.”

Was he threatening me? I took a deep breath and tried to bring it down a notch. “They’re breaking the law, disturbing the peace—for me, for my neighbors. I need you to arrest them, or whatever it is you do. Just put a stop to this. Surely I have a right to peace and quiet in my home. I don’t bother anyone. I don’t deserve this.” I was still furious and sounded on the verge of hysterics.

The younger patrolman, who’d remained outside until now, climbed the stairs to join us. His other partner heaved a sigh. His whole attitude seemed to convey that this was a minor neighborhood squabble.

The younger man turned to the senior officer. “They say they’re doing God’s work.”

“God, my ass,” I shouted. “I’ll go after them with more than a garden hose if I see them again. They’ve made threats implying that I’m a witch and I should burn at the stake. Doesn’t that qualify as a death threat?”

The two men looked at each other quizzically and turned back to me. “We’re not really sure,” the younger man replied.

“That’s very reassuring. Thank you very much,” I replied sarcastically.

The older man turned away dismissively and headed down the stairs. The younger officer started to follow, then hesitated and turned back to me. “Look … I’m really sorry. We’ve been told to lay off the Prophet and any of his followers.”