The 7th Canon

by Robert Dugoni

  Shadows flickered from the fire in the living-room fireplace.

  “Kim?”

  He crossed to the hall. The light in the bathroom illuminated a wedge on the parquet floor. Donley used his crutch to push open the door. Water filled the bathtub. Steam had fogged the mirror, but the room was empty. Bo barked from the back bedroom.

  Donley retreated and approached, and slowly opened the door.

  Anne sat on the edge of the bed holding Benny, who was wrapped in a canary-yellow bath towel. Kim stood close by, gripping Bo by the leash and collar. Standing by the rocking chair in the corner of the room, Dixon Connor held the .44 Magnum in a bloodied, heavily bandaged hand.

  “Looks like the guest of honor has arrived,” Connor said in a raspy voice. “Good of you to join us, Counselor.” Connor’s face was an ashen gray. “I thought maybe you wouldn’t make it.”

  Benny reached for Kim, crying and calling for her.

  Donley could not swallow. For a moment, he could not breathe. “It’s OK, Ben,” he said softly. “It’s all right.”

  “Sure, it is,” Connor said. “It’s a regular fucking tea party.”

  “Let them go, Connor. This is between me and you.”

  “Just as soon as I get what I came for.”

  “Whatever you want. Just let everyone else go.”

  Connor grimaced, and the barrel of the gun lowered. Bo lunged. Connor raised the gun.

  “No!” Donley yelled.

  “If you release that dog, I’ll shoot it, then you, in that order,” Connor said to Kim.

  “Calm down,” Donley said. “She’s not going to release the dog, Connor. You’re not going to shoot anybody. Just let them go.”

  “I want the videotape.”

  “OK, but I don’t have it.”

  “Well, then, I guess you have nothing I want.” Connor pulled back the hammer on the gun.

  “No! I don’t have it here, but I know where it is.”

  Connor’s eyebrows arched.

  “I left it in the wrecking yard. I hid it. We can go get it.”

  He hoped the tape and Father Martin’s black book remained in the pocket of his jacket stuck in the barbed wire atop the fence.

  “I told you, you’re a shitty liar. You should really think about another profession.”

  “We’ll get the video,” Donley said. “And Father Martin’s Bible. You and me.”

  “You and me and the Chinawoman here will go together. If anyone calls the police, I’ll kill you both.”

  Donley wanted Connor out of the room. He wanted him away from Kim and Benny and Anne.

  “You’ll have me and the tape. You said yourself, you can bargain for anything you want with the tape.”

  Connor grimaced in pain, shuffling along the side of the bed. “Move that dog out of my way.”

  Kim stepped back, pulling Bo with her. He continued to growl. Benny reached out to Kim as she passed. Connor pointed the gun at the back of her head. “Tie the dog up.” Kim tied Bo’s leash to the bed frame. Once she had, Connor spoke to Donley and Kim, motioning with the gun. “Move.”

  They stepped from the room. Connor shut the door behind them, muffling the sound of Bo’s barking.

  Donley said, “My car keys are in the other room.”

  “Get ’em.”

  He hopped on his good leg, crutches in hand, into Benny’s room. Kim and Connor followed. The desk was in the corner. Donley looked to Benny’s bed. Unmade, the covers had been thrown to the side. Simeon was gone.

  “Hold it,” Connor said as Donley reached for the drawer handle. Connor walked into the room and stood by the side of the desk. He pressed the gun to Kim’s head.

  Donley pulled open the desk drawer and picked up a set of keys. “OK?”

  “The Chinawoman will drive. Give her the keys.”

  Donley handed Kim the keys.

  “Now move.”

  Donley couldn’t let Connor get them into the car. If he did, they’d be trapped, and any chance of escape or fighting back would be severely reduced. He worried about Kim getting hurt.

  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the closet door start to swing open.

  “Connor,” he said, drawing his attention.

  “What—”

  Danny Simeon burst from the closet, switchblade in hand. Connor swung the gun toward Simeon. Donley lunged and fell into him, getting his hands on the barrel and shoving it upward. It discharged into the ceiling. Donley and Connor fell backward, crashing into the onrushing Simeon.

  Connor screamed in pain, the knife embedded in his back. Donley yanked the gun from his hand and turned to tell Kim to run, but she was already on the move, out of the room to the back of the house.

  By the time Donley had redirected his attention, Connor was on his knees, with Danny Simeon standing over him, holding the bloodied knife to Connor’s throat.

  “No!” Donley yelled.

  Anger had contorted Simeon’s face into a sickening mask.

  Donley put out his hand. “Danny, give me the knife.”

  Simeon shook his head.

  “Danny, put the knife down. You don’t want to do this.”

  “I do. He deserves to die for what he did.”

  “If you kill him, you’ll never be rid of him. You’ll never be able to get that face out of your mind.”

  Simeon seethed.

  “It will haunt you for the rest of your life, Danny. He isn’t worth it. Give me the knife.”

  Simeon’s chest heaved.

  “Let him go, Danny. Father Tom needs you. Those boys need you.”

  Simeon released his grip and stepped back, his body shaking.

  Donley managed to pull himself onto his good leg and gently eased the knife from Simeon’s hand.

  Chapter 25

  Donley waited patiently in the modest reception area outside what the polls were predicting would not be Gil Ramsey’s office for much longer. Donley had dressed casually in a blue shirt and his leather jacket, which he and Ross had retrieved from atop the fence at the junkyard. He’d had to slice the seam of one leg of his blue jeans to accommodate his cast.

  The telephone rang at the receptionist’s console. The woman took the call, then stood and advised Donley that Mr. Ramsey would see him. Donley fit his crutches under his arms and followed her down the hallway to Ramsey’s open door. Ramsey came out from behind his desk and greeted Donley with a smile.

  Donley declined coffee, and the two men forsook the handshake, given the crutches.

  “I’m sorry to have kept you waiting.”

  “No rush,” Donley said.

  “I understand you’ve filed a civil action?”

  In the two weeks that had passed since the night of Dixon Connor’s arrest, Donley had filed a civil action against the city and county of San Francisco and the San Francisco Sheriff’s Office for the “mistake” that had caused Father Martin to be placed in general population and nearly killed. The city, now eager to wash its hands of the entire sordid affair, wanted to resolve the matter quietly. Before coming to Ramsey’s office, Donley had been down the hall, listening to a six-figure settlement offer.

  “I’m glad to hear you’re doing better,” Ramsey said. “I’ll tell you now, from the moment I met you, I admired your courage and your poise under some pretty heavy fire.”

  Donley didn’t respond.

  “Have a seat,” Ramsey said, walking behind his desk.

  Donley remained standing. “Thanks, but I don’t intend to be long.”

  “However I can accommodate you,” Ramsey said. “I assume you’re here about Father Martin’s criminal matter?”

  “No. I assume that case is closed.”

  “Based upon your statement, Frank Ross’s statement, and the statements of the other witnesses, there was more than enough evidence to convict Dixon Connor of all three deaths, if he had lived.”

  Dixon Connor had remained in intensive care for three days. He had lost a considerable amount of blood, and his body w
as riddled with infection from the piece of steel that had pierced his back and ruptured his liver. The doctors said Connor never regained consciousness, never put up a struggle. Connor’s fight was over.

  That hadn’t stopped the families of the three boys from suing the city and the county in civil actions.

  “I came to ask about the prosecution of the men Bennet was blackmailing,” Donley said.

  Ramsey shook his head. “Well, that’s a problem, of course. Unfortunately, it appears that if other videos existed, they were either destroyed or they’re hidden someplace.”

  Gil Ramsey was partially correct. At Donley’s suggestion to Aileen O’Malley, the police department had issued a statement that they’d found a key to a storage locker in Dixon Connor’s home and were working to locate that locker. Donley had hoped the fear of the tapes being revealed would cause some of the men on them to come forward.

  A few had.

  “I understand from Lieutenant O’Malley that two more came forward last week,” Donley said. “Will they be prosecuted?”

  Ramsey shook his head. “The fact that these men are coming forward shows they are remorseful. Besides, as you indicated, there is no hard evidence to prosecute them and the statute of limitations is a problem. We’re recommending community service and counseling.”

  “Maybe the threat of being exposed will at least make some of the others who don’t come forward consider what they’ve done.”

  “One would hope,” Ramsey agreed.

  “I wonder,” Donley said, “whether any of this would have happened if Jack Devine had been prosecuted.”

  Ramsey went pale.

  “You see, Mr. Ramsey, I have a theory. I learned it from a judge. I don’t believe men like Jack Devine are sorry for what they do. I think they’re only sorry they get caught.”

  Ramsey did not respond.

  “If Jack Devine had been prosecuted, the existence of the tapes might have been revealed then, before Connor found out about them, and those three boys would still be alive. Perhaps the men on those tapes would have been prosecuted.”

  “Hindsight is always twenty-twenty,” Ramsey said.

  “Devine said it was because his father was a personal friend of the governor, your father. He said your father convinced you not to prosecute him.”

  “Did he?”

  “Why would your father be so intent on convincing you not to prosecute a scumbag pedophile like Jack Devine?”

  Ramsey’s jaw tightened. “Mr. Devine isn’t exactly credible, Mr. Donley. It never happened that way.”

  “No? Devine is convinced it did.”

  “He’s mistaken.”

  “I guess it’s like those tapes, huh? Without them, nothing can be proven.”

  “I’m afraid not.”

  “What did you say to me the first time we met in this office?” Donley lowered his head, as if thinking, but he remembered Ramsey’s words well. “Justice isn’t always about right or wrong. It’s all about what we can and can’t prove.”

  Ramsey nodded.

  “I found Father Martin’s Bible and the log-in sheet for that night.”

  Ramsey paused. “Did you?”

  Donley pulled folded papers from his pocket. He’d given the original copy to Aileen O’Malley. “Connor took it when he broke into the office. He was worried it would reveal that Bennet had brought a tape to the shelter.”

  Ramsey cleared his throat. “Does it?”

  “No, unfortunately.”

  “Well,” he said, “I guess we’ll never know if a tape ever existed then, or if Connor was just bluffing.”

  “Bluffing?”

  “Whether he made it up.”

  Donley looked around the spartan furnishings. “It looks like everything worked out for you, didn’t it?”

  “I’m eager to win and to get to Sacramento and get started.”

  Donley turned as if to leave, then turned back. “You have no remorse, do you?” When Ramsey did not immediately answer, Donley said, “You could have put a stop to it. You could have done the right thing. I just gave you another chance to do the right thing, but you have no interest in that, do you?”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “Sure you do. Dixon Connor told me all about it that night, about your father on the videotape, and the money you were going to pay Connor to get it back. He told me everything.”

  Ramsey raised his chin, defiant to the end. “And as I said, Mr. Donley, justice isn’t always about right and wrong. It’s about what can and can’t be proven. And you can’t prove anything. Not now, anyway. Not with Dixon Connor dead.”

  Donley smiled. “I’ve always wondered why it is that men like you and your father end up landing on your feet while people like Andrew Bennet get trampled.”

  “People get trampled every day,” Ramsey said. “It takes strength to survive. It takes great strength.”

  “Dixon Connor said something similar to me. He called it survival of the fittest.”

  “Perhaps,” Ramsey said, “though I wouldn’t want to be linked in any way to Dixon Connor.”

  Donley locked eyes with him, reached inside his jacket, and removed a copy of the videotape. Ramsey went white. Donley placed the copy on Ramsey’s desk.

  After a moment, he said, “And yet you are.”

  EPILOGUE

  The ceremony to reopen the Tenderloin boys’ shelter was short and simple. Archbishop Donatello Parnisi gave a brief speech from the steps of the building to a crowd of about fifteen who had braved a cold March morning to celebrate. Then, he and Father Martin cut a red ribbon stretched across the entrance, and Parnisi extended to his full height to pull down a piece of brown paper covering a bronze plaque above the shelter’s entrance.

  THE FATHER THOMAS MARTIN BOYS’ SHELTER OF THE ARCHDIOCESE OF SAN FRANCISCO

  Frank Ross popped a cork on a bottle, drawing everyone’s attention.

  “Sparkling cider,” he said, filling Mike and Rochelle Harris’s outstretched paper cups.

  “I’ll take one with alcohol,” Lou Giantelli said.

  “No, you won’t.” Sarah said. She looked to Peter. “I have to watch his diet like a hawk.”

  Ruth-Bell held out her glass. “I’ll take his and mine. He’s more ornery than before he had the heart attack.”

  Lou had cut back work to two days a week and retired completely from any trial work or court appearances, though he still ventured into the office every day “just to check on things.” It was Donley’s practice now. He’d turned down the offer to work for Max Seager.

  Danny Simeon released colorful balloons into a clear blue sky, which thrilled Benny, who was bundled in Kim’s arms. Then Simeon handed Father Martin a computer mouse. “You got one kick-ass computer, Father T. I’m just sorry I won’t get to teach you how to use it.”

  Simeon was moving on. He’d received a job offer with a computer company in Daly City.

  “I’m happy you won’t,” Father Martin said.

  “I’ll be back, though,” Simeon said. “You can count on it.”

  Father Martin approached Donley and Kim, who was starting to show. The two men stared at each other for a moment. Then Father Tom pulled Donley close, embracing him. “Thank you,” he said. “For believing in me.”

  “Thank you for believing in me,” Donley said.

  Father Tom released his hug, and Parnisi put a meaty hand on Donley’s shoulder. “As the new attorney for the archdiocese, I’ll expect to see you in church tomorrow,” he said. “That’s my only requirement of church counsel.”

  “Is it a deal breaker?” Donley asked.

  Kim slapped his shoulder.

  “I’ll be there,” he said. “With Lou’s clients, I can’t afford to lose one who can actually pay its bills.”

  They laughed.

  “Shall we see inside?” Father Martin said to those assembled.

  Parnisi and Father Martin walked up the ramp to the entrance to the shelter. Kim handed Be
nny to Uncle Lou, and the others followed inside. With the money from the settlement of the civil action, and significant donations spurred by the media coverage of the events, the inside had been remodeled and updated, including Father Martin’s own bedroom and private bathroom. He also now had a staff.

  Frank Ross lingered behind with Kim and Donley. “Aileen O’Malley tells me Gil Ramsey is squealing like a pig.”

  Ramsey had little choice. The videotape clearly revealed his father, Augustus, with Andrew Bennet.

  “His lawyers are trying to work out a plea deal,” Donley said, “but the new district attorney isn’t interested. She’s pushing an obstruction of justice charge, among others. Apparently, she has political ambitions and sees this as an opportunity for advancement.”

  Ross chuckled at the irony. “What about Augustus?”

  “So far, he’s not saying a thing, but they’re also focusing on him for what happened to Father Tom the night he got his blood drawn.”

  “Will they prosecute him as a pedophile?”

  “I don’t know. There are statute-of-limitations issues, but whether they prosecute him or not, he’s done. Nobody wants anything to do with him.”

  Ross smiled at Kim. “Congratulations, by the way. When’s the baby due?”

  “September,” she said.

  “Summer. That’s good,” Ross said.

  “Have you heard anything?” Donley asked. Frank Ross and his wife had filed to adopt twin boys.

  “If all goes well, we’ll have our new sons in six months.”

  “Congratulations,” Peter and Kim said.

  “I’m going to head in,” Ross said. “You coming?”

  “In a minute,” Kim said, gripping Donley’s hand and holding him back.

  After Ross had departed, she reached into her purse and handed Donley a red envelope.

  “What’s this?”

  “Your Christmas present.”

  Donley opened it and pulled out a sonogram. He stared at it, feeling the same glow he’d felt when they’d first seen Benny’s sonogram. It felt good. It felt like a family. Lou had been right. Donley had needed to climb one more mountain, and now that he had, standing atop it, he could see their future. He liked what he saw.

  He looked at Kim. “Are you going to hold me in suspense, Doctor?”