Pearls of Asia: A Love Story (32 page)

SHEYLA SAMONTE WAS TAKEN
to the San Francisco County jail to be booked and processed. She was angry and confused. Once before she had experienced the degradation of being arrested for prostitution, and she knew the smartest thing she could do was to keep her mouth shut. Mac remained silent, doing his best not to make eye contact with her.

After being fingerprinted and photographed, Mayes asked Mac what side of the prison they should put her in: male or female. “She’s not exactly a woman, and she’s not exactly a man. You tell me, Mac, where should we put her for the night?”

Mac was in no mood for his partner’s sarcasm. “Don’t be an asshole, Mayes. If you put her with those animals in the male section, they’ll eat her alive. You said yourself she’s a woman. Put her in with the female population.”

Sheyla was escorted to the women’s side of the prison. Rivers of mascara streamed down her face. As the door was locked behind her, she turned to Mac, her eyes wide with panic. When he returned the look, the serious expression that had been plastered on his face since the moment of her arrest never wavered.

Except for the wink.

C
HAPTER
N
INETEEN

Saturday, September 20, 2008 - 10:00 am

“Police have announced the arrest of thirty-year-old Sheyla Samonte for the murder of Michelle Osher. Miss Samonte is the rumored mistress of Paul Osher, the victim’s wealthy husband. Unconfirmed reports indicate Miss Samonte is employed as a ‘gender illusionist’ at a popular San Francisco restaurant called ‘Pearls of Asia.’”

Associated Press

D
OZENS OF MEDIA TRUCKS
, satellite dishes, and cherry picker vans were stacked outside Police Headquarters like so many egg cartons. Inside, reporters from CNN to the E! Network were crammed into the department’s stuffy auditorium for a televised press conference with Police Chief David Stone on the arrest of Sheyla Samonte.

Mayes ran though the hallways searching for Stone. He found him backstage, looking into a mirror while rehearsing his prepared remarks. “Chief Stone, I need to speak to you before you talk to the press. It’s very important, sir.”

“Dammit, Mayes,” said Stone, fussing with his gelled hair that a tornado couldn’t have budged. “Can’t you see I’m busy?”

“Sir, I need to make you aware of something. It concerns both Mac and me.”

“What is it, Mayes? You guys are my all-stars. I’ll make sure you both get the recognition you deserve.”

“That’s not it, sir. It’s about Inspector Fleet’s conduct. Somewhere during the course of our investigation he became romantically involved with Sheyla Samonte.”

Stone stared straight into the mirror, hardly noticing his face turning red, or the veins in his neck beginning to bulge like a set of frozen water pipes. “What the hell did you just say?”

“Mac got too close to our suspect, Chief. He also doesn’t believe she murdered Michelle Osher. He went along with it only because you put the squeeze on us to make an arrest.”

“How long have you known about this, Inspector Mayes? And why the hell have you waited until now to tell me?” Stone’s muffled rage could he heard outside by reporters.

“I wanted to, sir, but we’re partners, and partners look out for each other. We were hoping that Sheyla Samonte wasn’t our suspect and that this would all blow over.”

Stone turned to face Mayes, glaring at him like a Marine boot camp instructor. “So let me see if I’ve got this straight. My top team of detectives disagrees about whether or not the person we have in custody actually committed this crime; one of my best officers is jeopardizing the biggest case this city has seen in years, along with his own career, by getting romantically involved with our primary suspect; and you just admitted to the Chief of Police that you withheld evidence of your partner committing a major department violation. Have I missed anything, Inspector Mayes?”

“No, sir.”

“Good. Now go find
former
Inspector Mac Fleet and tell him to wait for me in my office.”

ATTIRED IN FULL DRESS
uniform, Stone stood tall behind a podium as he addressed the scores of reporters. “Ladies and Gentlemen. It is my pleasure to announce that the great men and women of the San Francisco Police Department have made an arrest in the murder of KNTV anchorwoman Michelle Osher. The suspect in custody is Sheyla Samonte. She is thirty years old, born in the Philippines, and employed as a waitress at a local restaurant. We are not at liberty to discuss the facts of the case, but we will try to answer as many of your questions as we can.”

Copies of the press release were handed out, which included Sheyla’s mug shot. It may have been the worst picture ever taken of her. Her face was ashen, swollen, and smeared with heavy makeup.

“Is it true she’s a transsexual?” asked a reporter from the
San Francisco Chronicle.

“We have not ascertained that fact as of yet,” answered Stone.

“But she works at
Pearls of Asia
. Wouldn’t it make sense?” repeated the pesky journalist.

“As I just said, right now we do not know that for a fact.”

“Is it true she was Paul Osher’s mistress?” asked a newshound from CBS news.

“Paul Osher did have a relationship with the suspect. That is all we can tell you.”

“Did he give her money?” asked a scribe from
The Wall Street Journal.

“As I’ve said, we cannot disclose the facts of this case.”

“What motive would Sheyla Samonte have to kill Michelle Osher?” asked a columnist from
People
.

“We won’t discuss a possible motive at this time.”

Questions started firing in from all over the room, like tennis balls shot out of a machine.

“Had the suspect ever met Michelle Osher?”

“How long had she known Paul Osher?”

“Is there one ‘s’ or two in ‘transsexual?’”

Sensing the onset of a media feeding frenzy, Stone brought the press conference to a quick conclusion. Within a few short hours, Sheyla Samonte’s picture, and the incredible story of a beautiful transsexual woman suspected of murdering the famous wife of her wealthy lover, was spread to every corner of the planet.

“WHAT THE HELL WERE
you thinking?” bellowed Stone behind the closed door of his office. Mac knew this moment would arrive, but nothing could have prepared him for the verbal onslaught he was about to take. “Am I to believe what your partner told me, that you’re romancing our suspect? Have you lost your fucking mind?”

Throughout his career, Stone had served as a mentor to Mac. Standing before him now, in disgrace, Mac felt like a son who had just disappointed his father. “I’m sorry, sir. There is no excuse for my behavior. I realize I’ve failed you.”

“I swear Mac, if this case gets thrown out of court because my lead detective acted like a love-starved Casanova, I’ll do more than just fire you. I’ll have you prosecuted for obstruction of justice and have you thrown in jail.”

“Sir, if that’s the case then I’ll accept the consequences. But as a sworn officer of the law, it’s my duty to tell you I don’t believe Sheyla Samonte killed Michelle Osher. I admit I violated department policy, and I’ve put my career in jeopardy, but Sheyla Samonte did not commit this crime. The real killer is still out there.”

“Then why did you and Mayes have her arrested?”

Mac’s jaw tightened; resolve replaced guilt. “Because that’s what you wanted us to do, sir. You made it very clear that we had to pin this crime on someone or our jobs would be in jeopardy. I’ll admit much of the evidence points to Sheyla Samonte, but the case against her isn’t just circumstantial, it’s atmospheric. We still haven’t found Sonia Grisham or a murder weapon. Hell, we still haven’t found the damn dog. There are still too many unanswered questions, and I don’t think we’re doing the best job we can by making a quick arrest just because the media has lit a fire under your ass. I’m sorry for talking to you this way, Chief, but I’m telling you the truth.”

Stone had heard enough. He wanted answers, and all he was hearing were excuses. “Clean out your desk, Fleet. You’ve just earned yourself a suspension without pay. Now get the hell out of my office.”

MAC GRABBED A CARDBOARD
box and began the never-thought-of-process of emptying his desk. All the years of hard work had come down to this. The one thing he loved to do more than anything else in the world was being taken away from him. And he had only himself to blame. Next was the stuff in his locker. Inside the locker room were half a dozen officers in various stages of undress. The roar of testosterone-fueled gossip was silenced the moment he entered the room.

“I can’t believe you, Mac,” remarked Keith Nix, the officer Mac ran into the day before. “As if sleeping with a murder suspect wasn’t bad enough, you had to go screw around with a tranny. You’re such a loser.”

“I knew I should have said something to the Captain,” added Jackson, who saw Mac that first night at
Pearls of Asia
. “Something about you being there alone, kissing that transvestite. My girlfriend and I could tell you were into him. Man, I never would have believed you were gay.”

Mac tried to keep his poise. “Guys, do yourselves a favor and keep your mouths shut. Just let me get my gear and get the hell out of here.”

“Guess we won’t be seeing you tomorrow, will we?” blathered Nix, getting up into Mac’s face and signaling that his presence wasn’t wanted at the precinct tailgater. “What’s the matter, Mac? Can’t you find a real girl to go out with? You know, Melanie said she saw you out on a date with that tranny last week. You like sucking cocks and having dicks shoved up your ass, don’t you, big fella?”

The rpm’s on Mac’s cool-meter began to redline. He had heard enough. Mac balled his right hand into a fist and let fly with a ferocious right cross cross flush into Nix’s jaw. Soon the two pugilists were wrestling and punching each other on the floor.

“What’s the matter with you guys?” shouted Mayes, racing in to break up the fight. “C’mon, Nix. Let him get his stuff and get out of here. Leave him alone.”

Mac, blood streaming from his nose, quickly emptied his locker and left without saying a word. Mayes followed him outside to The Sub.

“Thanks for helping me out there, partner,” said Mac. “Or at least you were my partner until a half hour ago.”