Let the Devil Sleep

Chapter 43



Talking to the Shepherd





Gurney and Kim drove to Syracuse in separate cars. With so much yet to be determined, maximum flexibility seemed wise. Standing in front of the shabby little house that Kim’s apartment formed half of, Gurney went over the plan with her again. As he did so, its ad-hoc flimsiness seemed increasingly evident. In fact, it was hardly a “plan” at all—more like some ill-conceived theatrical improvisation. But he couldn’t let his growing doubts show, couldn’t let them infect Kim. Any more anxiety would paralyze her. And for better or worse, this hollow little scheme of his was all they had.

He concluded by saying, with the most confident smile he could muster, “Whatever I say to you up in your apartment, just react as though you really believe it. Stay as close to your real feelings as you can. Just relax and react. Okay?”

“I guess.”

“And just one more thing. Have your cell phone handy and ready to use. At some point I’ll signal you to call my number to make my phone ring, and then I’ll go through my fake conversation with Clinter. Whatever facts have to be invented, I’ll invent them. Afterwards, you just play yourself. React the way you normally would. That’s all there is to it.” He gave her a wink and a thumbs-up. Then he wished he hadn’t. He was embarrassed by the phony bravado.

She swallowed hard, opened the door into the tiny vestibule, then unlocked the door of her apartment. She led him down the narrow hall to the living room. He looked around at the futon couch, the cheap coffee table, the pair of worn armchairs, each partnered with a flimsy floor lamp. It was all as he remembered it, right down to the dirt-colored rug that was frayed in the middle.

“Go ahead, have a seat, Dave. I’ll just be a minute,” said Kim, her voice only slightly strained, as it might be from a difficult day. She walked down the hall and disappeared into the bathroom, closing the door loudly.

He paced around the room, cleared his throat a few times, sat down noisily on the couch. A few minutes later, she returned. They both laid their cell phones on the table.

“So … can I offer you a drink or something?”

“I am thirsty. What do you have?”

“Anything you want.”

“Uh, maybe just some juice or something. If you have it.”

“I think I can manage that. Give me a sec.” She went back down the hall to the kitchen. He heard glasses banging against each other, the sink tap going on and off.

She returned with two empty water glasses. She handed him one, clinked hers against it, and said, “Cheers.” She sat down on the couch, turning sideways to face him.

“Cheers to you, too. I see you’re drinking wine. Something to make you feel better about the RAM deal.”

She let out a loud sigh. “That whole situation is a nightmare.”

Gurney cleared his throat. “Television is television, I guess.”

“You saying I should be thrilled to work with Rudy, the slimebag?”

“Not necessarily thrilled,” said Gurney. “But there is your future to think about.”

“I’m not sure I want that kind of future. Why?” she said with a half-jesting edge in her voice. “Are you interested in chasing that opportunity Getz dangled to host your own show?”

“Not in this lifetime, at least not the way he described it,” said Dave. He coughed, cleared his throat. “Any chance I can get a refill?” As he spoke, he pointed at her cell phone.

She nodded and picked it up. “You are thirsty.” She stood noisily, giving her glass a sharp whack with her hand, knocking it over. “Shit! What a mess!” She stomped out of the room.

The glass was empty, there was no mess, but anyone listening in would be picturing one of those awkward moments in unrehearsed real life. Gurney smiled. The young lady had real talent.

A few moments later his phone rang. He picked it up and began his fictitious conversation.

“Max? … Sure, go ahead.… What do you mean? … Why are you asking? … What? … You’re serious? … Yes, yes, of course.… Right.… No, no, the Facebook message was a fake.… Ah, good point.… How sure are you? … Look, what you’re saying makes perfect sense, but that ID needs to be nailed down—I mean nailed down one hundred percent, no loose ends.… That’s absolutely incredible, but, Jesus Christ, I think you’re right.… Sure.… When? … Yeah, I’ll bring everything.… All right.… Yeah.… Be very careful.… Midnight tomorrow night.… Absolutely!”

Gurney went through the motions of pressing the button to end the call, then laid his phone on the table.

Kim came back into the room. “Here’s your refill,” she said, as though she were handing him a glass. “Who was that call from? You look pretty excited about something.”

“That was Max Clinter. It seems that the Good Shepherd finally made a major mistake—in addition to the ones at Ruth Blum’s and at the auto-body shop up the road. Those I already knew about, but Max just made another discovery, and … now we know who he is.”

“Oh, my God! You’ve identified the Good Shepherd?”

“Yes. At least I’m about ninety percent sure. But I want to make it a hundred percent. It’s too big a thing for there to be any open question.”

“Who is it? Tell me!”

“Not yet.”

“What do you mean, not yet?”

“I can’t take any chance of being wrong about it. Way too much at stake. I’m getting together with Clinter tomorrow night at his cabin. He has something I need to look at. If it matches what I’ve got, it’ll close the loop—and the Shepherd is history.”

“Why do you have to wait till tomorrow night? Why not right now?”

“Clinter’s been staying out of the area ever since he got a text message from the Shepherd tricking him into driving around Ruth’s neighborhood in Aurora. He got spooked. Doesn’t even want to be in Cayuga County in the daylight. He said midnight tomorrow was the soonest he could get to his cabin.”

“Jeez, I can’t believe this! I can’t believe you know who the Shepherd is and you won’t tell me!” She sounded frightened, almost pathetic.

“It’s safer this way.” He waited a couple beats, as if mulling something. “I think, for now, you should check in to a hotel. Keep a low profile. Why don’t you pack a few things in an overnight bag, then let’s get out of here.”