Steven Gore - Act of Deceit

Sherwyn again placed his hands on the dashboard.

Donnally took the next right, then pulled over. He didn’t speak right away.

“Now that I think about it,” Donnally finally said, “maybe you’re worth more to me alive than dead.”

“Blackmail?”

Donnally laughed. “That sounds like a confession. You should’ve said extortion. That would make you look like a victim.”

“How much do you want?”

“Let me think… let me think… how about five hundred thousand for Melvin for what you did to him and five hundred thousand for trying to kill me.”

“Where do you think I’m going to get a million dollars?”

Donnally looked over at Sherwyn, grinning. “So now we’re negotiating?”

“Call it whatever you want.” Sherwyn smirked. “I knew you had an angle. I just couldn’t figure out what it was. If I had known it was only money we could’ve worked this out already and saved ourselves a lot of trouble.”

“You mean like hiring a hit man?”

“Construe it any way you like.”

“What’s your counteroffer?” Donnally asked.

“Half a million divided between the two of you and a signed statement from Melvin that nothing ever happened.”

“How about two hundred for Melvin and four hundred for me?”

Sherwyn nodded.

“But this all assumes you have the money,” Donnally said. “Do you?”

“That’s not your problem. I can get it.”

Donnally put his gun back into his holster, then reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a pad of paper and a pen.

“Write out an IOU. Make it out for services rendered. Due in two days.”

Sherwyn wrote the sentence, signed below it, and handed it back to Donnally, who then shifted into drive and pulled back into the street. He took two more right turns and stopped in front of Sherwyn’s house.

Sherwyn opened the car door and stepped out.

Donnally lowered the passenger window as the door closed, and said to Sherwyn, “Nice doing business with you.”

Sherwyn looked up and down the street to make sure no neighbors were outside and leaned down.

“What makes you so sure I won’t walk inside and call the police?”

“Because you know how tomorrow’s headline will read. ‘Priest Accuses Prominent Psychiatrist of Child Molesting, Sordid Tale of Abuse Poised to Destroy Careers.’ ”

D onnally drove down the hill and stopped at a phone booth to call Janie.

“How’s my alibi?”

“You’re drinking coffee in bed and watching the news. I’ll have the recording for you to study when you get back. And twenty minutes ago you called your father from your cell phone. How’d it go with the doctor?”

“We’ll see. He’ll be trying to get some money together. Probably not as much as he agreed to, but who’s counting?”

D onnally traveled back using the same route he’d come. Over the north bay, down through Marin County, across the Golden Gate Bridge, and to the house where he had found the Taurus. He sealed up the car, stuck his gloves into his jacket pocket, then walked back to Janie’s.

She handed him his cell phone when he stepped into the kitchen. He punched in a telephone number.

“Ramon, this is Harlan. I found a rental car ignition key under the front steps. I thought you might be interested.”

N avarro called twenty-four hours later as Donnally was replacing his neighbor’s shot-out window.

“You were right, man,” Navarro said. “We located the car a few blocks away from you. It had been rented with a forged credit card. We lifted fingerprints matching the shooter in the car. And guess what? We found William Sherwyn’s all over the passenger side.”

“Did you knock on his door yet?”

“Yeah. It was weird. I told him I was investigating the shooting at your place and were wondering about some fingerprints we found. His face just went white. In twenty years investigating homicides, I’ve never seen anything like it. Then he started babbling and saying that you kidnapped him and forced him to touch the inside of the car. When I asked him why you would do something like that he clammed up and said he wanted to speak to a lawyer.”

“Did you arrest him?”

“No. He’s not going anywhere and I want to get a warrant to search his house and office. And I need to check out a few things.”

“Like what?”

“Like whether you’ve got an alibi.”

“Alibi? Me? Man, talk about blaming the victim.”

D onnally didn’t bother knocking. He just pushed open the door to Lieutenant Ramon Navarro’s homicide unit office and charged inside.

“You told me he wasn’t going anywhere,” Donnally said.

“What do you mean?”

“I just found out from a neighbor that she saw Sherwyn loading suitcases into the back of his Mercedes last night.”

Navarro reached for the telephone and called the Berkeley Police Department. He asked the dispatcher to send officers by Sherwyn’s house and office.

“Did the neighbor have any idea where he was going?” Navarro asked after disconnecting.

“Not a clue. She said he travels about once a month, but never talks about it.”

Navarro squinted up at Donnally. “And how did you happen to be talking to this neighbor?”

“I like to keep track of people who try to kill me.” He glared down at Navarro. “And now it looks like I’m going to have to find him myself.”

Donnally surveyed Navarro’s desk. “Will I have to break into his house to find evidence of where he went or did you get the search warrants?”

Navarro tapped a manila folder. “I had planned to do his home and office this afternoon, but I think I’ll do them right now.” He rose from his chair and shook his head as he looked at Donnally. “Not a chance you’re coming along.”

Donnally pulled out his cell phone and scanned through the stored numbers.

“What are you doing?” Navarro asked.

“A reporter for the Chronicle called the cafe after Brown’s competency hearing and left his number. Maybe he’d like to be there when you kick in Sherwyn’s door.”

Navarro waved off the threat. “Give me a break. How’s it going to look if we allow you in there when Sherwyn’s already accused you of manufacturing evidence?”

“How about you let me look through the stuff once you get it back here tonight?”

“Why? Chain of evidence. That’s why.”

“I won’t touch anything. You turn the pages.”

“What pages?” Navarro inspected Donnally’s face. “What do you know that I don’t know?”

“Nothing. Phone records, that’s all I meant.”

Navarro squinted up at Donnally. “Like maybe you want to compare them to some you already have?”

“Man, you’ve become a suspicious son of gun in the last few years. I just want to see if there are any leads to where he might have gone.”

Navarro held his gaze, then shrugged. “Have it your way.”

Donnally pointed at Navarro’s phone. “You may want to check with ICE to find out whether Sherwyn left the country.”

Navarro glanced toward the hallway. “You see your nameplate hanging on an office out there with the rank of captain etched into it?”

Donnally smiled and shrugged. “Just a thought. I’ll be here this evening when you get back.”

“S herwyn will be watching for me,” Donnally had told Janie the day after he examined the evidence Ramon Navarro had seized, “not a Vietnamese woman.”

And she’d said, “You’re not that different from your father.”

“I’m not asking you to play the part of a prostitute.”

She laughed. “Only because William Sherwyn isn’t interested in girls.”

It was then that Donnally reached into his jacket pocket and removed two plane tickets to Cancun.