The Madness of Mercury (7 page)

“Sales. I work for a radio station. That was another conflict my boyfriend and I had. He thought I should be happy with my job. I make good money. But I just see it as a dead end.”

“This will sound complicated, but it’s really fairly straightforward. The ruler of your sixth house—this is the house of the work you do on a daily basis—is placed in your ninth house of publicity. Your ninth house ruler, the Sun, is in your natal tenth house, close to your Midheaven. The tenth house is all about career and public standing. This is a very big issue for you. Frankly, I don’t think you’d be happy staying in sales, no matter how much money you made. What was your degree in?”

Darlene laughed. “Communications … broadcasting.”

“Well, there you have it. That’s perfect for the ninth house, not to mention travel and publicity. That’s what you should be doing. You’re young, you’re very attractive, well-spoken—why shouldn’t you be doing the evening news? Or if you’d rather work behind the scenes, perhaps you could do research for special broadcasts or documentaries or something along those lines?”

“Julia, that’s so weird. When I was little, that’s what I used to play at. Being one of those women on TV who delivers the news. It seems silly now, but I remember thinking how confident they looked.”

“Here’s my advice: don’t leave the city. It’s smaller than, say, New York or Los Angeles, so it might be easier to get a start here. Forget the boyfriend. You didn’t do anything wrong. Find a headhunter and start figuring out how those women got to do the news.”

Darlene took a deep breath. “You’ve given me a lot of think about. And I do feel better than when I walked in. Thanks.”

“You’re more than welcome. It’s been delightful for me too. I’m just sorry you had a scare this morning.”

“Who were those people?”

“I haven’t the foggiest. Obviously some kind of religious cult, but who’s behind it, I don’t know.”

“What are you going to do about it?”

“Not sure yet. But I’ll figure it out. Next time you see me, my home will be a place of peace and serenity.” I really had to check that Uranus transit as soon as possible. Here I was, doling out advice about the sense of home while mine was being turned upside down. How dire could this get?

S
IX

I
WALKED
D
ARLENE TO
the door at the back of the shop and waved to her as she climbed into her car. Inside the store, not a customer was in sight. The police were gone and Cheryl was at the counter ripping open boxes of books. I pulled up a stool and started working on the next box.

“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.

S
EVEN

M
Y 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.