In The House Of Secret Enemies

Garth laughed. 'From what I can gather from his statement, Johnson never paid any attention to the reports. Edmonston did most of the interviewing.'

'There seems to be a touch of irony there,' I said dryly.

'There seems to be. Well, I've got a car running downstairs. Like I said, I thought you'd want to know.'

'Thanks, Garth.'

He paused with his hand on the knob and looked at me for a long time. I knew we were thinking about the same thing, words spoken in a jail cell, a very private family secret shared by two brothers. For a moment I was afraid he was going to say something that would embarrass both of us. He didn't.

'See you,' Garth said.

'See you.'

Falling Star

I don't usually get clients walking into my university office, but I wasn't complaining. That's the kind of attitude somebody in my position develops after a while.

My visitor was a big man with a swarthy complexion, wearing expensive shoes and suit, diamond pinkie rings, and show biz written all over him. He had red hair and milky blue eyes that did a double take between me and the nameplate on my desk.

'I'm looking for Dr. Frederickson.'

'I'm Frederickson.'

'You're a dwarf.'

'You've got something against dwarfs?' I must have sounded nasty.

He flushed and extended his hand. 'Sorry,' he said. 'My name is Sandor Peth. I need a private detective. Your brother suggested I come and talk to you.'

That raised a mental eyebrow. I wondered what business Peth had had with Garth. I shook Peth's hand and motioned him to a chair.

Peth reached into his suit jacket and took out a neatly folded piece of paper. He unfolded it, handed it across the desk to me, and said, 'I brought this along for what it's worth. I think it could be important.'

I studied the paper. There were two concentric circles divided into twelve sections by intersecting lines. The sections were filled with symbols and notes that were meaningless to me.

I placed the paper to one side. 'What is it?'

'A horoscope.'

I didn't say anything. The thought crossed my mind that Garth might be having a little fun with me.

Peth cleared his throat. 'Have you ever heard of Harley Davidson?'

'Sure. He's a famous motorcycle.'

Peth smiled. 'He's a rock star. At least he used to be.'

'Used to be?'

The smile faded. 'Harley's in trouble.'

'What kind of trouble?'

Peth lighted a cigar and stared at me through the smoke. His milky eyes fascinated me; they were like mirrors, reflecting all and revealing nothing. 'I want you to know that I don't believe in none of this stuff, but Harley does. That's the point.'

'What does Harley believe in, and what's the point?'

'Astrology, witchcraft, all sorts of occult nonsense. Harley's no different from lots of people in the business who won't get out of bed in the morning unless their astrologer tells them it's okay. But Harley got into it a lot deeper. He got mixed up with a bad-news astrologer by the name of Borrn. Borrn's the one who cast that horoscope. Whatever's in it scared the hell out of Harley, messed his mind. So far, he's missed two recording dates and one concert. No promoter's going to put up with that stuff for long. Harley's on his way out.'

'What's your interest in Harley?' I asked.

'I was Harley's manager up to a week ago,' Peth said evenly. 'He fired me.'

'On Borrn's advice?'

'Probably.'

'A neutral observer might call your interest sour grapes.'

'I don't need Harley. If you don't believe me, check with my accountants. I've got a whole stable of rock stars. I like Harley and I hate to see him get messed up like this. He's made me a bundle, and I figure maybe I owe him some.'

I nodded. It seemed a sincere enough statement. 'How do you think I can help, Mr. Peth?'

'I want to nail Borrn. It may be the only way to save Harley from himself.'

'Harley may not want to be saved.'

'I just want to make sure he has all the facts. I don't think he does now.'

'I'm not in the business of 'nailing' people. I just investigate. If you think Borrn's into something illegal, you should go to the police.'

'I did. That's how I met your brother. He said that as far as he knew Borrn was clean. He told me he couldn't do anything unless there was a complaint, which there hasn't been. I want to find out if there's a basis for a complaint. I can afford to tilt at a few windmills. How about it? Will you take the job?'

I took another look at the expensive shoes and diamond pinkie rings. 'I get one hundred fifty dollars a day, plus expenses. You don't get charged for the time I'm teaching.'

Peth took out a wad of bills and lightened it enough to keep me busy for a few days. 'Borrn operates out of a store-front down on the Lower East Side,' Peth said, handing me the money. 'That's about all I know, except for what I've already told you.' He rose and started to leave.

'Just a minute,' I said. Peth turned and looked at me inquiringly. 'You said Garth told you he thought Borrn was clean. Did he say how he knew that? Astrologers aren't his usual meat and potatoes.'

Something that might have been amusement glinted in Peth's eyes. 'They are now,' he said. 'Didn't you know? He's been assigned to a special unit keeping tabs on the New York occult underground.'

I hadn't known. For some reason I found the notion enormously funny, but I waited for Peth to leave before I laughed out loud.

Peth had left the horoscope behind. I picked it up and stuffed it into my pocket along with my newfound wealth.

At the precinct station house I found Garth torturing a typewriter in the cubicle he called an office. He looked tired. Garth always looks tired. He is a cop who takes his work seriously.

'Abracadabra!' I cried, jumping out from behind one of the partitions and flinging my arms wide.

Garth managed to hide his amusement very well. He stopped typing and looked up at me. 'I see Peth found you.'

'Yeah. Thanks for the business.'

'Why don't you say it a little louder? Maybe you can get me brought up on departmental charges.'

I sat down on the edge of his desk and grinned. 'I understand you're using the taxpayers' money to chase witches.'

'Witches, warlocks, Satanists and sacrificial murderers,' Garth said evenly. 'As a matter of fact, the man Peth wants you to investigate is a witch as well as an astrologer.'

I'd been kidding. Garth wasn't. 'You mean 'warlock,' don't you?'

'No, I mean a witch. A witch is a witch, male or female. The term 'warlock' has a bad connotation among the knowledgeable. A warlock is a traitor, or a loner. Like a magus or ceremonial magician.'

'A who?'