The Madness of Mercury (2 page)

She pursed her lips and continued to stare at me, an expression I was sure was designed to engender guilt. My answer hadn’t satisfied her. I mentally reviewed my work on her chart. Had I missed anything? Was it my own insecurity? Or was I just being guilted?

“I’ll tell you what. I’ll have a further look and check your lunar returns for the next couple of months. The lunar return chart describes the current month, based on the Moon’s return to its natal position, and I’ll see if there’s a period of time during this transit that’s more threatening.”

“My niece is your client. You have her chart, don’t you?”

“Yes. Of course.”

“Have a look at that too. Please. Before it’s too late.”

I couldn’t respond. The thought that Dorothy would ever harm her aunt was outrageous and unthinkable. The woman
I
knew was a highly regarded and experienced nurse. She had devoted her life to taking care of people. And now she had put her work on hold to care for her aunts—Evandra and her younger sister, Eunice.

Evandra sat forward in her seat. “I need Luis. Can you fetch him, dear? Just pull that tassel over there.” She pointed to a length of cord near the canopy bed that undoubtedly connected to a series of bells below.

I rose and passed by the window. Luis was below in the garden, trimming a hedge. He was the sisters’ valet, gardener, chauffeur, and all-around gofer. A short man, thickly built, with graying hair, he maintained a gentle and long-suffering demeanor as he was called upon often for any number of odd jobs.

“Damn and blast this hip.” Evandra fidgeted in her chair. “I hate being so helpless.”

I pushed open the casement window and waved to Luis. He nodded and wiped his brow with a red bandanna, holding up a calloused finger to indicate he’d be upstairs in a moment.

“Old age is not for sissies, Julia.” She grimaced in pain. “Why, when I was young, I could party, as they say, with the best of them.”

Luis arrived a few moments later and knocked. I hurried to the door and opened it.

“There you are, Luis.” Evandra raised her arms. “Help me to the bed.” He lifted Evandra’s slender form with ease and deposited her gently on the large bed, then covered her with a crocheted quilt. Her complexion had grown pale.

“I’ll be working on the back lawn, miss. But you pull the cord if you need help. Miss Dorothy can call me.

“Thank you, Luis. Please tell that niece of mine to stop baking and do something useful around here. For all we know, she’s slipping arsenic into those blasted cookies she’s always making.”

“I will tell her, miss.” Luis smiled and winked at me as he shut the door behind him.

Evandra leaned her head back and pulled the quilt up to cover her arms. “I have to rest now, dear. Will you come see me again?”

“I’ll stop by again, if you like. Perhaps tomorrow.”

“Thank you.” She sighed heavily and closed her eyes.

I had been dismissed. I gathered up my notes and charts and stepped softly across the heavily draped bedroom and pulled the solid oak door shut behind me.

The second floor hallway was dim, lined with dark wood wainscoting and lit only by a few wall sconces leading to the top of a curving staircase. A stained-glass window filtered outside light onto the landing. It was only mid-afternoon, but the sky had grown dark, muting the brilliant reds and blues of the window. Heavy Pacific storms were closing in from the north and San Francisco would be buffeted by wind and rain through the holidays.

At the foot of the stairs, I called to Dorothy. She didn’t answer but a sweet and toasty aroma filled the foyer. I followed the short hallway toward the rear of the house and pushed through the swinging door to the kitchen. At the other end of the room, a wall of windows overlooked the back garden, and beyond that lay a view of the city and the bay to the north. Black clouds, roiling and heavy with rain, were visible beyond the Golden Gate and the Marin headlands. The storm would hit within a few hours.

Dorothy worked at the center island, kneading dough, a full-length white apron tied over her loose slacks and long-sleeved red sweater. She looked up and smiled.

“How did it go with the Dowager Queen?”

I laughed. “Fine … I guess.”

Dorothy saw the expression on my face. “What’s wrong?”

I pulled a stool up to the island, watching Dorothy knead and slap her dough. That’s when I broke rule number two:
never talk about a client’s reading.

“I have to ask you something.”

Dorothy stopped her work, wiping flour-coated hands on a dishtowel.

“Has there been any hint of senility or psychosis? Medically, I mean.”

Dorothy looked puzzled for a moment. “I’ve worked with a lot of elderly patients. It certainly happens. They can be perfectly normal their whole life, but with age, do the strangest things.”

“Such as?”

“Oh … ” Dorothy trailed off. “Imagining that someone’s stealing their money, or draining their bank accounts. One man I cared for filled his living room with stacks of newspapers floor to ceiling. Don’t ask me what that’s about, but it does happen. Why? What did she say to you?”

I didn’t have the heart to repeat Evandra’s fears. I’d known Dorothy for a couple of years, had nursed her through marital problems and a current separation from her husband, and had come to like and respect her. I looked at her open face and the concerned look in her eyes and decided for once to keep my mouth shut—or at least practice the tact that Sagittarians are not famous for. “She seems to have a great level of fear and believes that she’s in danger.”

“I can’t imagine why.” Dorothy brushed a strand of hair from her forehead with the back of her hand. “She couldn’t be safer. She’ll probably potter along for several more years. When she’s able to get around, I can go back to work. She has Eunice living here. We have our housekeeper, Alba. The poor woman has her hands full taking care of this mausoleum. And Gudrun, their companion, also lives in. And I plan to have a nurse stop by every day for a while, maybe a long while. We’ll see.”

“Tough on you.”

“Oh, I’m used to it. It’s just harder when it’s your own family. If Richard and I were still together … ” Dorothy trailed off. “He’s called a few times lately, but … ”

I waited, careful to gauge her emotional state. Personally, I was glad Dorothy had separated from her controlling husband. I couldn’t exactly say that to her, but I was relieved she was getting back on her feet.

She took a deep breath. “But we’re not together.” She smiled ruefully. “You’re young, Julia. It’s hard for you to understand.”

I understood all right. Death had taken away my options, but this wasn’t the time to remind her. “Not that young.”

Dorothy looked at me. “You know, all the time I’ve known you, I’ve never asked how old you are.”

“Thirty-six.”

“See? That’s young.” She smiled. “I was going to say, if we were still together I suppose I wouldn’t feel as free to be staying up here, keeping an eye on everything. And I’m only here till Evandra’s up and about. So, everything works out for the best, I suppose.”

Dorothy sprinkled some flour from a small glass bowl over the wooden cutting board and returned to kneading the dough. “She’s definitely stronger every day, but she can’t be on her own. You haven’t met Eunice yet, have you? The baby of the family. She’s only eighty-seven.” Dorothy chuckled. “Gudrun keeps an eye on her too. And then, the renovations.”

“I noticed. What’s that about?”

“It’s the conservatory. Evandra finally agreed to do something about it. There’s dry rot around the window frames; most of them need replacing. This is such an old house and I’ve been worried. My aunts really haven’t been up to keeping on top of maintenance and repairs, so I figured this was the best time to have it done. I just hope it’ll be finished by the time I’m ready to get back to my own life.”

As if in response to Dorothy’s explanation, I heard a power saw rev up from a distance at the far end of the house.

“That’s them now. We hired an architect to oversee the contractors. Some of the plumbing in the conservatory needs to be replaced too. But the architect’s great with these old houses, and his crew can pretty much come and go through the garden at the side of the house without disturbing us very much.” Dorothy spread her dough carefully over the board.

An apple and cinnamon mixture was warming on the stove top and my stomach was reminding me I hadn’t eaten since breakfast. “What are you making?” I asked.

“Apple pastries, little turnovers. I make them every Christmas. My aunts love them. I thought it might cheer Evandra up, especially … ” The sound of a gasoline-powered mower drowned out the rest of Dorothy’s response. She glanced toward the windows. “Damn. What’s he doing?”

“The carpenter?”

“No. Luis.” Dorothy walked to the windows and peered out into the garden. “He probably wants to finish the lawn before the rain starts.”

A low stone wall formed the perimeter of the back garden, delineating an edge where the ground dropped off to a steep cliff marked with rocky outcroppings. I joined Dorothy at the window and followed her line of sight. The power mower was running, unattended, and butting against the stone wall. A red bandanna hung from the vibrating handlebar of the machine.

Dorothy looked puzzled. “He shouldn’t leave that thing like that. Where did he get off to?” She tossed her dishtowel on the table, heaved a sigh, and opened the back door to the garden.

“Luis … Luis,” she called.

I followed her out the door and joined her on the lawn. The wind was whipping fiercely across the hillside and the sky had grown even darker. In the distance, the sea churned black in the bay. Dorothy’s apron billowed like a sail in the wind. She strode purposefully across the grass to the mower and hit the control, silencing the monster. She turned her head to speak to me and hesitated, then turned back and peered over the low wall. Something had caught her eye. She was still for a moment and then took two steps backward.

“What is it, Dorothy?”

Her face had drained of color. “It’s Luis. He’s down there.” Her voice quivered. “I think he’s dead.”

T
WO

T
HE ROUGH STONES OF
the perimeter wall stood only knee high. I leaned over carefully, fighting vertigo, and looked down. Luis’s body lay on an outcropping of rock perhaps twenty feet below, his sightless eyes staring up at the darkening sky. His leg was bent at an extreme angle and a small pool of blood surrounded his head.

Dorothy was frozen in place, staring at his body. I pulled her back from the edge, resisting the feeling that the ground might collapse under us and send us both careening down the hillside. I grasped her shoulders and led her into the kitchen. She sat heavily on the stool I had just vacated. She’d seen plenty of death in her working life, but none so close to home.

“What the hell happened, Julia?” Dorothy looked more confused than horrified.

“I’ll call 911. You stay right here.”

Several hours later, the paramedics, fire trucks, and police drove back down the hill toward North Beach. Fortunately Gudrun, the sisters’ companion, had kept Eunice in her quarters. Evandra, sedated with a pill for pain, slept through the chaos, blissfully unaware of Luis’s death. The coroner was noncommittal, except to say that the fall most probably killed the gardener, but it wouldn’t be ruled accidental until the autopsy was complete. The real question was how did a man who was familiar with the terrain tumble over a low wall?

“I’ve told them time and time again to do something about that wall,” Dorothy said. “It’s just too low, especially now that the rains have washed away some of the hillside and vegetation.” Telegraph Hill had been compromised since the mid-1800s, when sailing ships quarried rock from the Bay side of the hill to use as ballast. Several years ago, heavy rains had caused a mudslide, destroying and burying buildings below. The Gamble house was built on solid bedrock—a very desirable thing in earthquake territory, but I had to agree with Dorothy about the low wall.

“They need to build that up or replace it with a tall wrought-iron fence. They’re elderly ladies—either one of them could have toppled over. My God!” Dorothy cried.