Absolute Instinct

by Robert W. Walker

  “Exactly.”

  “All right then... all right, I accept your offer to drive me to St. Paul.”

  “We'll sit on their doorstep until we get results.”

  “That's my plan, that and a call from the director of the FBI.”

  “That oughta cut some ice.”

  “We can only hope so. Where's your car?”

  “Whoa up there, Sharpe. I've got to clear all this with my superior. Even in Millbrook, there's such a thing as protocol and channels.”

  “And how long has that been the case?”

  Brannan glared, but then he burst into a hearty laugh. “It won't take long. In and out, especially if you're 'longside me with that mug of yours. My boss is a sucker for higher-authority types like you. Come on.”

  # # #

  DARWIN and Jessica disembarked and stood on the runway with bags in hand, no one to greet them. Darwin looked off into the distance at a row of other hangars, searching for the FBI car that was to take them to the governor's mansion. Jessica looked at her Citizen watch. “Time's running low. If we miss the meeting, there might not be another shot, at least not today.”

  “Damn it, I was told the local field guys would be here to greet us.” She handed him her cellular. “Get on the phone and call them,” she urged. “Tell 'em to haul ass.”

  Darwin pushed her phone back into her hands, and pulled out his own. He got right through to someone, but in a moment Jessica saw Darwin's brow crease, first in confusion and then anger. “I don't give a damn about your motor pool problems or your mother's gallbladder, Agent Riley. Get us transport and do it now!” He swore under his breath and shook his head and stepped about in a tight little circle of indignation and rage. “Fucking bastard says they didn't expect us for another two hours, some shit about logging it in as A.M. instead of P.M., so a car was waiting at 4 A.M., and some shit about since we did not show, blah-blah-blah.”

  “A car was waiting for us? At four this morning?”

  “Was being the operative word. It obviously didn't wait for us.” His attempt to lighten the situation didn't improve either of their moods. Darwin's mood had darkened to the hue of his skin, and he sent a fist into a sign on a chain-link fence, rattling the entire fence and denting the sign that read: No Loitering on Runway.

  “There's a cab stand the other side of the fence. We can grab a cab, Darwin.”

  “No, the car's on the way. It's on the way.”

  Ten minutes passed.

  Sitting on her bags, Jessica finally said, “Let's catch a damn cab, Darwin.”

  “There, there it is!” he pointed to a car pulling out onto the runway. It carefully made its way toward them, two agents inside. These two appeared pissed off at pulling this duty; they looked deeply glum, deadly serious and terribly unfriendly.

  “These boys look unhappy in their work,” she said in gross understatement.

  “They're going to be a lot unhappier when I get through with them.” The car halted, the trunk popped open and the two men climbed out.

  “Let's just get to the wedding on time, Darwin,” Jessica cautioned. “Let it go for now.”

  “All right, agreed, for now.” He hefted their bags and tossed them into the trunk as the two Portland field agents flashed their badges and offered their halfhearted cliches about being at their disposal while in the Portland area, while at the same time offering no help with the bags.

  “Save it. We've wasted enough time here, gentlemen,” Jessica said, fearful of losing her own control at their attitude. “We're only here to save an innocent man's life.”

  Darwin added nothing but an approving look.

  Jessica quickly climbed into the rear of the luxurious Lincoln Town Car, not wishing to be witness to Darwin's rage at the two should he decide to unleash it. But while she heard him use the term jag-offs moments before he climbed into the rear himself to sit alongside her, she was proud that he'd held himself in check.

  “You know what's going on?” he asked her as the Portland agents climbed into the front. “These men don't want us here. They're perfectly happy to let Robert Towne die. In fact, they think the way he's going to be executed by the state is weak and flimsy final justice for the man. Isn't that right, gentlemen.”

  She said quietly in his ear, “Sounds like the entire state has him down as guilty.”

  “Why not?” he shouted, his booming voice taking off the lid of the car, startling the two agents in the front seat. “Robert's been judged guilty by twelve of his 'betters,' not to mention all of law enforcement in Oregon! Including the FBI.”

  One of the agents turned and shouted back, “Look, man, some of us saw what that bastard did to his wife.”

  “You mean that white woman, don't you?” Darwin shot back. “Might as well be in fucking Alabama or goddamn

  Mississippi in the fucking forties as be out here. Goddamn no-man's-land between prejudice and racial hatred.”

  “Whoa up, Agent Reynolds! Nobody's talking race here but you,” said the driver.

  “You play that race card, you play it alone,” added the other.

  “Fuck you both. Just drive.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Jessica realized only now that Darwin was right, that Towne, in large measure, had been found guilty by these field ops largely on the basis of his race. “Take it easy, Darwin. We've just got to get to the governor. He's got to have more on the ball than these yahoos.”

  “Take the fastest route you know, Agent Barnes,” ordered Darwin.

  “Right on it.” Barnes eyed Jessica in his rearview, almost striking an oncoming mail truck.

  “Look out there, Barney!” shouted his partner. “We don't want to delay Agent Reynolds and Dr. Corman any further.”

  “It's Coran, Dr. Coran,” she corrected the agent in the passenger seat. Jessica read between the lines that the two had engineered this delay, and each felt quite good about himself as a result. A glance at her watch told her they were already late.

  The car sped toward the governor's mansion.

  TWELVE

  The next of kin may also donate a body.

  — UNIFORM ANATOMICAL GIFT ACT

  GOVERNOR Hughes only needed the least provocation and excuse to disappear before they could get to him. He'd gotten clear of his office the moment it appeared the FBI agents from Quantico and Milwaukee were running late. He was off to his next appointment, and his appointment was in the next county.

  Mrs. Agnes Dornan, the governor's appointment secretary, a thin, tall, big bird of a woman with pinched features and a stern glare, dressed them down for having wasted her boss's precious time. She then spewed forth noises from her gritted teeth as she searched and scanned her book for a moment of the governor's time. “Now... let's see... mmmm... a suitable time when the governor can see a pair of FBI agents from the East bent on discussing a reprieve for a convicted murderer... mmm... One who has been determined guilty of mutilating his wife by the great state of Oregon.”

  “Listen, lady!” began Darwin, but Jessica placed both hands against his massive chest and moved him off from the frightened secretary.

  “Damn it, Darwin, let me handle this. You're too personally involved. Sit it out.”

  She turned back to the secretary while Darwin retreated to a corner and leaned against a window, looking out on the well-manicured lawns of the mansion and muttering under his breath, “Fucking place... fucking governor.”

  The secretary looked relieved that she had only to deal with Jessica at this point, and not the brutish black giant in the corner.

  “Now... Mrs... . Dornan, is it?”

  “Yes, dear.”

  “I'm going to get on the phone now to call the Director of the FBI. You know, the one who answers only to the President of the United States and the State Department, and I'm going to turn him over to you, and you can tell him when we can see the fucking governor of Oregon. Is that understood?”

  Mrs. Dornan's icy silence and stare clearly meant she would
call Jessica's bluff if it were up to her.

  Jessica dialed the number. Darwin looked on with interest. Mrs. Dornan's chin rose still higher in the air.

  Jessica called out, “William Fischer, please. No, this is an emergency. Do not put me on hold. Do you recognize this number? Yes, Dr. Jessica Coran, and I am calling on urgent business from the great state of Oregon. Now put me through to Will wherever the director is at, and I mean now.”

  She silently hummed “What I Did for Love.” Mrs. Dornan's chin had fallen slightly off.

  Then Jessica said into the phone, “Will? is that you? Good! You sound like you're inside a drum. Bad connection? What? You're in the can? Oh, shit. Sorry... I mean sorry to catch you there, but this is extremely important, Will. What? Oh, really? I-I suppose, yes... if I can get back in time. Sure... I'd love to see Mercedes, too, and how is Tricia? Uh-uh... yeah, that's so cute. Uh-uh. Look, Will, I need you to set someone here straight.”

  Jessica paused a moment, her eyes going to Mrs. Dornan.

  Then Jessica yelled into the phone for emphasis. “Straight, straight! I want you to set the governor's personal secretary straight.”

  Mrs. Dornan swallowed hard.

  Jessica continued her phone conversation. “Yes, it's what we talked about, and it appears you were right about Governor Hughes—strictly a nine to fiver. Yeah, skipped out on us. Yes. Everyone here is so very ready and excited about the prospect of executing Robert Towne day after tomorrow, seems almost like a preternatural hatred for Towne here, and the sonofa... The man won't even see us, and his secretary doesn't think she can fit us in before the bloody execution!” She laughed aloud at this. “Yeah, lotta good it'll do to see the man about a reprieve after the execution. Macabre is right. Whole thing here is surreal.” Jessica laughed more, and the voice on the other end laughed with her.

  Darwin's lips curled into a grin. Mrs. Dornan crossed her arms in defiance.

  Jessica held out the phone to her. “He wants to speak to you.”

  “Me?” Mrs. Dornan hesitated taking the phone. “William Fischer wants to talk to me?

  “Yes, the FBI director wishes to speak to you. Seems he's on a fact-finding mission in Minnesota, St. Paul, to be exact, but they patched me through, and the director wants to say hello to you, Mrs. Dornan.”

  “I-I... me? Talk to William Fischer?”

  Jessica shook the cell phone at her. “Yes, please take the phone.”

  Mrs. Dornan took the phone in hand and placed it to her ear only to shove it off her ear as Richard Sharpe shouted on the other end, “You will accommodate my people, young lady, or your boss will hear directly from me! Do you understand?”

  “Ahhh... yes, sir... of course, sir. There's just been a litrle misunderstanding here. That's all. We'll rectify the situation, I am sure.”

  “Today. Rectify it today.”

  Mrs. Dornan stared at the phone, now gone dead.

  Darwin and Jessica stood united before her. “So, when can we see Governor Hughes?” Jessica asked.

  # # #

  MRS. Dornan had gotten on the phone, located Governor James Hughes, and promised him it was in his best interest to cut the fund-raiser short and get back to the mansion to see Dr. Coran and Special Agent Reynolds. When she'd gotten off the line, she informed them that it could be upwards of two hours before Hughes might return, but that he did want to speak to them today, knowing that time was drawing short for Robert W. Towne.

  “We'll call in, keep tabs, and be back,” Jessica said. “Can you get us a cab? We're both famished.”

  “I recommend the Capitol House Inn,” she said, all smiles now. “It's not too far, and there's a lovely view of the lake, and they have the very best seafood if you like seafood, and no one does steaks better.”

  “That sounds positively lovely indeed,” Jessica replied.

  Once in a cab leaving the mansion, Darwin asked, “You had Richard Sharpe on the line the whole time?” Reynolds laughed. It was good to see him relax enough to do so.

  Jessica joined him in laughter. “Saw a statistic the other day, says we laugh an average thirteen times a day. Not hardly enough.”

  “Gotta hand it to you. You played Mrs. Dornan like a fiddle.” He laughed again. His handsome good looks reminded her of Sidney Poitier.

  “I think she's otherwise known as Agnes of Oregon.”

  Again Darwin's laughter filled the cab.

  “The bad news is that Richard really is in St. Paul.”

  “Not Millbrook?” asked Darwin.

  “Trying to hurry along the DNA testing on the sample taken from Louisa Childe's corpse. It's at Cellmark of St. Paul.”

  “Man, I hope they don't take as much time as Millbrook has on this case—two years.”

  “Yeah, in two years, Argentina will likely see six more presidents if the past few years are any indication.” she joked. She then explained what little she'd actually understood from Richard's cryptic and frustrated remarks at their last conversation. But now Sharpe had lived up to his name in playing along with her sudden, out-of-the-blue call asking him to impersonate Fischer, the FBI's top cop. His ranting had covered his British accent well enough for the likes of Mrs. Agnes Dornan, and he'd wisely not turned on the camera component of his phone.

  Jessica and Darwin were soon seated across from one another in a clean, well-lit mountainside restaurant overlooking a bay filled with rental boats and pleasure craft. Life floating by. People enjoying a leisure that Jessica had begun to wonder more and more about. She couldn't recall the day when she had not carried the badge of FBI M.E., even on holiday.

  “See why Robert ran here from Milwaukee. Came as far away as the continent would take him. Beautiful place. All this open country, fresh air, clean water, fishing, hiking, hunting. He taught himself all those things, you know?”

  “Now he's imprisoned on death row.”

  “Yeah...” Darwin dropped his gaze. “Yeah... could've just as easily have stayed in goddamn Milwaukee for all that he's accomplished.” He laughed only dully.

  She tried to cheer him. “We'll convince the governor. We have to.”

  “Yeah, what choice otherwise? Break Robert out of a maximum-security prison?”

  “Hope it doesn't come to that.”

  They ordered salmon steaks. When in Rome, she joked. “This is salmon country.”

  She lifted her glass, toasting to their successful mission and then sipped her white merlot while Darwin lifted and drank his Guinness beer.

  “I don't like this waiting.”

  “I know. It's hard for me, so it must be excruciating for you.”

  “It's like all the time is bleeding out, like Robert's blood is being drained with each second. People want his blood, Jess. My blood.”

  “We're going to beat this thing, Darwin. Trust me.”

  “Geez, all this time, and I haven't so much as thanked you... all the trouble you've gone to, you and Sharpe.”

  “Not at all... not at all. Why don't you tell me more about Robert?”

  The waiter arrived with their meals. After the clatter of dishware and a few bites, Darwin said, “My brother, Robert and I, we had things rough for the first few years of our lives. He's older than me by almost two years. His mother left him to get away from our father. Our father takes up with another woman, my mother. She follows suit. My father was a compulsive gambler and an alcoholic and not a happy-go-lucky one, I can tell you, but a mean drunk.”

  “I'm sorry to hear that.”

  Darwin dropped his gaze. “It was like living with a Satanic Incredible Hulk, who might come through the door anytime. Now Robert... he did what he could to protect me all those years, and then when something really major happened, we were taken off by Family and Child Welfare Services.”

  “This was where?”

  “Chicago. South Side. I was soon adopted by the people who raised me as their own, but Robert stayed in the system until he was sixteen, bouncing in and out of foster homes only to return. He disappe
ared after that—got on a bus... ran.”

  “And you lost touch?”

  “Years went by, yeah. Then I read about him in the FBI bulletins, and I see him on CNN for murdering his wife.”

  “But if you haven't seen or heard from him in all those years, how could you know he was innocent?”

  “I didn't, not until I visited him in jail. Since we had different names, I arranged it by claiming to be investigating the Louisa Childe killing in Millbrook. I'd done my homework before seeing him. Oregon authorities bought my story, and I had clearance to see and interview Towne on the basis of my FBI status. They thought—”

  “You were doing research... behavioral-science aspect of his case.”

  “Exactly. Then I get back home to Milwaukee, and damned if a third woman hasn't been killed in a like manner.”

  “Weird coincidence all right.”

  “It was so close to home this time, I thought anyone looking at it from the outside might conclude that I had something to do with Joyce Olsen's killing just to clear my brother's name. You know, throw up a red herring, a flare.”

  “To make it appear the killer's still on the loose.”

  “That's when I got a notion. You see, I had read your book, so I decided to get you to come and take a look at what the police had in Milwaukee.”

  She ate from her salmon dinner. She drank more wine, not knowing what to say.

  “Tomorrow we can go out to the prison and see Rob. I know when you meet him, you'll know he's incapable of what they're wanting to execute him for. He's just too gentle.”

  “Even though your father has a history of violence and Robert didn't have the stable home you had, Darwin? Can you be so sure?”

  “Yes, I have an absolute faith in Robert.”

  “You just remember the older brother who threw himself between you and an abusive father.”

  “No... no. I've gotten to know him. I tell you, he's innocent.”

  She breathed deeply and nodded. “I trust your instincts, Darwin. I'm working under the assumption you are right on and keenly attuned to the facts here.”