Sally looked very sad. “I told you I’m not a good person. Our marriage is proof of that. As soon as I found out who Arnie was and how much money he had I tricked him into getting me pregnant. It wasn’t hard. He said he loved me. I think he did. When I told him I was pregnant he seemed happy. He’s the one who said we should get married. I don’t think he thought about the consequences.”
“Did you tell his father?”
Sally shook her head. “We went to Las Vegas over a weekend. Senior didn’t know until it was too late.”
“How did he react?”
“Not well. He tried to get the marriage annulled but Arnie stood up to him. It was probably the only time in his life that he showed any backbone. That’s when I fell in love with him.” She shook her head. “I have to admit, it took me by surprise. I went into the marriage for the money, but Arnie was this big, sweet kid, and I really started looking forward to having a baby.”
“Did Arnold Sr. mellow when the baby was born?”
“Not one degree. Senior is relentless when he wants to get his way. When Arnie wouldn’t file for divorce, he poisoned him against me by spreading rumors that I was sleeping around; rumors that had no basis until Senior got to me.”
“How did he do that?”
“By beating down Arnie until I came to despise both of them. Senior couldn’t control me. I was too tough for him. So he wrecked our marriage by constantly making Arnie choose between us. Arnie was so whipped he sided with his father rather than face him like a man. That’s when I started sleeping around. I just wanted to wake him up and that was the only way I could think to do it. I never enjoyed the affairs. They were just a way of fighting back. I wanted him to stand up to someone, even if it was me, but he didn’t have the guts.”
A tear rolled down Sally’s cheek. “Until the night he died, that is. That was the first time in a long time that he acted like a man.”
Frank’s client looked down at her lap, where her clenched fists lay.
“I know I hurt him—and there were times when I despised him—but I really loved him.”
Her voice was barely above a whisper. Her suffering brought back the pain Frank had felt when Samantha died.
“Do you want some water?” he asked.
Sally shook her head but she still couldn’t speak. Frank waited patiently. When she was calmer he asked a question he hoped would take her mind off her husband.
“Does anyone know where Marsh is?”
“There are rumors that he’s somewhere in Africa—a country that doesn’t have an extradition treaty with the U.S.—but the rumors haven’t been confirmed as far as I know.”
Frank made some notes. “I think this is enough for today,” he said when he was through. “I guess I don’t have to tell you that you shouldn’t discuss your case with anyone but me or my investigator—and I mean anyone. No one but me, or someone who works for me, can use the attorney-client privilege to prevent being compelled to testify against you. If a reporter, detective, anyone, approaches you about the case, just tell them your attorney has directed you to refrain from commenting. That’s it. Just cut them off.
“Meanwhile, I’m going to let Karl Burdett know that I’m your lawyer and you’re off-limits. I’m also going to try to find out what the evidence is that has him believing he can convince a jury beyond a reasonable doubt that you’re guilty of murder.”
CHAPTER 18
A week after Sally Pope hired Frank, she was charged with murder and conspiracy to commit murder. Two days after Sally’s arraignment and release on bail, Frank was cross-referencing phone calls made by a heroin dealer in a federal narcotics case when Herb Cross stuck his head in the door. A few years back, Cross, a slender, bookish African-American, had been mistakenly identified as a robber by a white convenience-store clerk. He told Frank he had an alibi but Frank’s investigator was new and inept and had failed to locate any of the people Cross swore could clear him. Frustrated by the investigator’s incompetence, Cross went off on his own and located the men. After the DA dismissed the case, Frank refunded Cross’s retainer, fired his investigator, and offered Cross the job.
“I’ve been through the discovery in Pope,” Cross said. “You busy or do you want to go through it now?”
Frank rubbed his eyes and leaned back in his chair. He pointed at the paperwork that covered his desk.
“This has to be the most boring case I’ve ever worked on. I can use the break.”
“Pope isn’t boring,” the investigator assured him. “I’ve got everything spread out in the conference room.”
Frank brought his coffee across the hall to a long table covered with photographs, police reports, and files.
“Give me the Reader’s Digest condensed version,” Frank said as he took a sip from his mug. “I’ll go through everything myself, later.”
“Okay, well, Burdett has Charlie Marsh pegged as the shooter.”
“Because?”
“They found a fancy, ivory-handled .357 Magnum at the scene. It’s a custom job, very distinctive, and it belongs to Marsh. A waiter at Marsh’s hotel saw him playing with it earlier in the evening and his agent, Mickey Keys, saw the gun in the limo that took Marsh and his entourage to the Westmont.”
“Was Marsh carrying it?”
“No, Keys told the police that Marsh’s bodyguard, Delmar Epps, liked the gun and carried it in his waistband when Marsh was in public. Epps was playing with it in the limo but Keys doesn’t know what happened to the gun once Epps got out of the car.”
“And the Magnum is definitely the murder weapon?”
Cross nodded. “The lab made a positive match. The bullet that killed the congressman was fired from Marsh’s gun.”
“Are Marsh’s prints on the weapon?”
Cross shook his head. “Someone wiped it down.”
“Did someone see Marsh shoot the gun at Pope?”
“They have a witness.” Cross handed Frank a crime scene photo. “Marsh was standing in a group on the other side of this turnaround.”
Frank wasn’t a member of the Westmont but he’d been there several times. He guessed that the police photographer had been standing under the portico at the main entrance and had shot across the turnaround toward the pro shop. Even though it was a night shot, Frank could see the side of the turnaround closest to the entrance with enough definition to make out a section of a flower bed that had been trampled underfoot. But the light from the club entrance faded out midway across the turnaround, leaving the far side in shadow. The pro shop, which was about twenty-five yards back from the road on the side away from the club, was almost impossible to see.
“Where was Marsh supposed to be standing?” Frank asked.
“See the road leading from the main street?” Cross asked, pointing at the far side of the turnaround.
Frank nodded.
“He was a little bit in from where the road bends toward the parking lot, sort of a straight line to the edge of the pro shop.”
“Okay, I’ve got it.”
Frank studied the picture. “There’s not a lot of light on that spot. How do they put Marsh with the gun?”
“Several witnesses will testify that they saw a muzzle flash from the area where Marsh was standing, but the key witness for the state is Werner Rollins. He’s an ex-con and Burdett is holding him on an outstanding warrant. Rollins is an acquaintance of Marsh who was at the seminar with another ex-con, named Gary Hass. A fight broke out after the congressman hit Marsh. Rollins got into it with a security guard. He ended up in the group on the other side of the turnaround. Then he took off when Pope was shot. The police picked him up a few hours later. He’s cut a deal with Burdett and he’s going to testify that he saw Marsh shoot Pope.”
“What does his buddy, Hass, say?”
“He’s not in custody but they do have Delmar Epps. It looks like Epps drove Marsh from the scene. He was also involved in the fight. Word is they’re cutting a deal with him, too.”
“Wh
at does he say happened to the gun?”
“He says Hass opened the limo door when the car stopped. When Epps realized the limo driver wasn’t opening the door he thought there might be trouble—a fan, paparazzi—so he says he got out to deal with Hass and left the gun on the seat.”
“So we have Marsh in the car with the gun.”
Cross nodded.
“Where’s Marsh now?”
“My latest information is that he’s sought asylum in Batanga, which doesn’t have an extradition treaty with the United States.”
“Doesn’t a cannibal run that country?”
“So they say.”
“Okay, so we have Marsh as the shooter. Why does Burdett think Mrs. Pope is involved?”
Cross pointed at a Xerox copy of a group of photographs. “The day before he was shot, someone sent these pictures and an anonymous note to the congressman’s office. The pictures show our client and Charlie Marsh in compromising positions in her house and they show Mrs. Pope at night going into and out of the elevator that went to Marsh’s penthouse hotel suite. The note said that Sally Pope and Marsh were going to be at the Westmont on the following evening. The note was made by pasting letters cut from magazine ads onto a sheet of white paper. Sally Pope’s fingerprints are all over the paper and on some of the pasted letters. Mrs. Pope subscribes to the magazine from which the letters were cut. I think Burdett is going to argue that our client lured her husband to the club from DC so Charlie Marsh could shoot him.”
“Do we know where the paper is from?”
“Similar paper was found during a search of the Pope residence.”
Frank studied the pictures of Marsh and his client in flagrante. He looked troubled for a moment. Then he brightened.
“Someone took the pictures of Marsh and our client making out. Find the photographer, Herb. He’s the key to this case.”
“Do you have any idea who might have hired the photographer if it wasn’t our client?”
“I’ll ask her for ideas, but the obvious suspect is Arnold Pope Sr.”
Frank told his investigator about Senior’s relationship with Junior and his daughter-in-law.
“Do you know—off the top of your head—what law firm Senior uses for his legal work?” Cross asked.
“I think it’s Reed, Briggs. Why?”
“Investigators who do surveillance work are a special breed. They’re usually loners who earn a living by spending eight to twelve hours a day with their camera staking out workmen’s comp claimants or plaintiffs in personal injury cases to see if they can catch them malingering. They’re frequently social misfits who can’t take regular office work. They don’t like routines or bosses looking over their shoulder. Firms don’t carry these guys on their payroll like they do in-house investigators, but they have a list of people they’ll contract with for odd jobs when the need arises. If Arnold Sr. hired the photographer he may have gotten the name from someone at Reed, Briggs.”
“Get on it, then. If we can prove that Senior hired the person who took the photos we’ll tear a huge hole in the state’s case. Have you found anything else that could cause us problems?”
“I’m not certain. There are two witnesses listed on the indictment who don’t match up with a police report.”
“Who are they?”
“Otto Jarvis and Anthony Rose.”
Frank frowned. “I don’t recognize Rose. I’ll ask Mrs. Pope if she knows him. Jarvis is a lawyer.”
“Is he with a big firm?”
“No, he’s a bottom-feeder. He does court-appointed criminal cases, but nothing big. Misdemeanors, shoplifts, drunk drives. I’ve heard that he does a lot of divorce work. If I’m not mistaken, he’s had a few problems with the bar, so check to see if he’s had ethics complaints filed against him.”
“Will do. Should I see if he’s connected with Senior? Maybe he’s the one who set him up with the photographer.”
“That’s a good idea,” Frank said. Then he went quiet. When he spoke again he looked worried.
“What concerns me, Herb, is the absence of a police report for these two witnesses. That usually means a DA is setting up a surprise, and I don’t like surprises when I’m in trial.”
CHAPTER 19
As Highway 26 heads west from Portland toward the Pacific Ocean, the urban landscape gives way quickly to suburban shopping malls and green spaces dominated by sprawling, glass-and-chrome office complexes housing high-tech companies. Frank Jaffe was already in farm country when he took the exit to Hillsboro twenty minutes after leaving the city.
Frank looked forward to the drive to and from the courthouse during the trial, because he was alone with Sally Pope. Much of the time, Frank discussed trial strategy or gave Sally his impressions of the way the trial was going, but sometimes they talked about things that had nothing to do with the law, and those were the times Frank treasured the most. He knew the ethics rules prohibited him from having a romantic relationship with a client, but spending an hour a day alone with Sally was the next best thing.
If Frank had to use one word to describe Sally Pope’s demeanor during her trial, it would be “composed.” It would definitely not be “serene,” because Frank knew that there were times when she was boiling mad, but Sally never let anyone but Frank see this side of her and she only let her emotions show in the privacy of Frank’s office or in his car.
The grayish white, neoclassical Washington County courthouse took up a block on the outskirts of city center in Hillsboro. Each morning, when they arrived for court, reporters hurled questions at Frank and his client as he escorted Sally between the fluted columns at the main entrance. And each day they ignored the press and hurried up the stairs to the courtroom of the Honorable Dagmar Hansen in which Mrs. Pope’s future was being decided.
Judge Hansen, a dirty-blond, cigarette-smoking hard case in her mid-forties, had made her bones defending insurance companies. She was a political conservative who was very smart and tried to be fair. The judge had made enough money in private practice to be immune to a bribe and she had enough integrity to stand up to a bully. Frank was confident that Arnold Pope Sr. would not be able to get to her.
The courtroom was packed from the first day, and seated directly behind the prosecution table every minute court was in session was Arnold Pope Sr. Sally made a point of ignoring her father-in-law and the hateful stare he directed at her every time she passed him.
It took a week to pick a jury, because of the publicity the case had received. As soon as the jurors were sworn, Karl Burdett gave an opening statement in which he claimed that the evidence would show the defendant had designs on her husband’s money from the start and had tricked him into marriage by getting pregnant. The DA displayed a sample of the photographs the congressman had received the day before he died. Then he argued they were the bait the defendant used to lure Junior to his death so she could inherit millions from his estate and collect additional millions from the insurance policy on the congressman’s life. During his harangue, Burdett referred to Sally Pope as a gold digger, a black widow, a harlot, and a harridan. Frank wondered if the DA had assigned a deputy to make a list of every derogatory term that could be used to describe a woman.
Frank’s opening statement was brief, dwelling on each juror’s obligation to wait until all of the evidence was in before drawing any conclusions about guilt or innocence and their obligation to acquit if the prosecution did not prove its case beyond a reasonable doubt.
As soon as court adjourned, Frank summoned Amanda from the back of the courtroom and introduced her to Sally. Frank had urged his daughter to enjoy her summer break by hanging out with her friends, but Amanda was a courtroom junkie who planned to go to law school after college, then practice criminal law, like her dad. There was no way Frank could talk her out of sitting in on the biggest case of his career.
“What did you think of the opening statements?” Frank asked as he packed up his papers.
Amanda cast a nervous eye at Frank�
��s client. “Can I be honest?”
“Please,” Sally said.
“Burdett kicked your butt, Dad.”
Frank responded with a hearty laugh. Sally seemed amused by Amanda’s cheeky reply.
“Out of the mouths of babes,” Frank said.
“Hey, I call ’em like I see them.”
“You called this one correctly.” Frank sighed. “My statement was vague because I’m still in the dark about the state’s case and I didn’t want to commit to a defense theory that Burdett can destroy.”
“I thought the DA outlined his case pretty thoroughly.”
“He’s holding something back. There are two witnesses on his list who don’t have police reports and I’m scared to death of what they’re going to say.”
“Who are they?”
“Tony Rose and Otto Jarvis. Jarvis is a lawyer. He refused to meet with Herb, and Mrs. Pope has no idea who he is.”
“Who’s the other witness?”
“Tony Rose, the tennis pro at the Westmont Country Club.”
Now it was Frank’s turn to hesitate.
“Go ahead, Frank,” Sally said. “Your daughter seems pretty savvy.”
“Rose and Mrs. Pope had a…relationship. That might be why Burdett is going to call him. But Rose refused to talk to Herb even after Herb told him that we knew about the affair. That makes me very nervous.”
DURING THE FIRST week of the trial Burdett called witnesses who established that Junior married Sally Pope after she became pregnant. Then he proved that Sally’s affair with Charlie Marsh started shortly before Junior was murdered, by using the testimony of Delmar Epps, who told the jury about Marsh’s trip to the Pope home on the evening of the Dunthorpe seminar and her visit to Marsh’s penthouse suite. Epps corroborated the testimony of the waiter who saw Marsh with the ivory-handled Magnum at the hotel and said he left the gun in the limo when he got out of the car.
Next, Burdett called John Walsdorf, who told the jury how the fight between Congressman Pope and Charlie Marsh started and how Delmar Epps, Werner Rollins, and the security guards were involved. While cross-examining Walsdorf, Frank established that the manager of the Westmont watched his client during the melee and saw her running toward her husband when the shot that killed him was fired.
Fugitive: A Novel Page 12