A Criminal Defense

Chapter 38

Donnally closed the office door and then sat down and called Janie. He described what he called Jackson’s “symptoms.”

“I’m thinking it’s some kind of defense mechanism,” Donnally said. “Like she’s acting out.”

Janie laughed. “Who appointed you shrink for a day? A defense mechanism, Dr. Freud?”

He knew she’d caught him. He’d felt a little awkward saying the words, like he’d been paddling into her professional pond on a makeshift raft.

“You have a better idea?”

“Transference.”

“You mean like she and Hamlin were sexually involved and she’s switched to me?”

“Maybe. Or maybe she had some kind of psychological dependence on him, like a father figure.”

“I guessed at that one. At least give me a gold star for that.”

“Let’s make it a cigar, it’s more Freudian. That kind of thing happens all the time between patients and their therapists. The therapist becomes a substitute for the parent or for the abusive boyfriend and the feelings get redirected from one to the other, or from the past to the present.”

“What do you make of her acting like a sexualized little girl? Who am I supposed to be in that fantasy?”

“I wouldn’t make too much of the sexual part. It’s a weapon of the weak.” Janie paused for a moment, then said, “If you can understand the nature of the transference, what she’s trying to communicate, you’ll better understand her relationship with Hamlin.”

“And whether she’s now trying to protect him or herself?”

“Very good, Sigmund. Insights like that will make you famous someday-got to go. I have some paid shrinking to do.”

Donnally hung up, realizing that he had now crossed borders into two territories he wasn’t good at. Finance and psychology.

After gazing at the door and imagining Jackson on the other side, he decided numbers were more manageable and looked again at the monitor. He spotted a command button titled “Reports” and clicked on it. The drop-down list showed one named “Current Year-Combined.” He accessed it and discovered Hamlin didn’t have much in the way of fortune, at least in his bank accounts. The bottom-line figures for money in and money out were almost equal. Unless he owned his duplex free and clear or had investments or a retirement account, most of his assets were composed of the cash Donnally had discovered.

He opened a browser and checked San Francisco County Recorder’s and Assessor’s Office records. They showed that Hamlin had paid off the duplex he lived in six months earlier and then had transferred it into the Mark Hamlin irrevocable trust. He knew from his parents’ tax planning that making a trust irrevocable meant it couldn’t be changed without the beneficiary’s permission. Hamlin had thereby given up all control over the assets in the trust to the beneficiary. But the answer to the question of who that was didn’t show up in the online records.

Donnally wondered whether Hamlin had made the trust irrevocable because he didn’t trust himself, maybe because of his opium problem.

He checked his watch. There was enough time to make it to City Hall before it closed to try to find out who Hamlin did trust.

Later, after he’d discovered who killed Hamlin, he figured he’d also discover whether that trust was well-placed.

If his guess about the value of Hamlin’s duplex was anywhere close, whoever the beneficiary was had cleared an easy couple of million dollars the instant Hamlin’s heart seized up.