Fugitive: A Novel

by Phillip Margolin

  After Walsdorf testified, the prosecutor proved that Charlie’s Magnum fired the fatal bullet. Witnesses from the Westmont told the jury that they had seen Charlie standing in a group on the other side of the turnaround. Some of these witnesses saw a flash come from that area just before they heard a gunshot and saw the congressman collapse. Werner Rollins testified that he was standing near Marsh and saw him fire the murder weapon.

  Frank didn’t ask many questions during this phase of the case. Charlie had plenty of reasons to shoot Junior that had nothing to do with a complex murder plot. Arnie Jr. had punched him in the face and was running toward him to do more damage when the fatal shot was fired. In closing, Frank planned to argue that Charlie Marsh acted alone.

  EARLY ON THE fifth day of trial, Burdett called Otto Jarvis to the stand. Jarvis did not look well. He was fat and sloppy and he had a waxy complexion. His sparse gray hair was arranged in a bad comb-over and his white shirt bore faint coffee stains. Jarvis’s hand shook when he was sworn in and the lawyer looked away when Frank tried to make eye contact.

  “Mr. Jarvis,” Burdett asked, “what is your profession?”

  “I am an attorney-at-law,” Jarvis said with as much dignity as he could muster.

  “How long have you been in practice?”

  “Thirty-five years.”

  “Where is your office?”

  “In Portland.”

  “Do you specialize in any area of law?”

  “Yes, sir. About three-quarters of my practice involves family law.”

  “Does a lawyer who practices family law represent parties who wish to obtain a divorce?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Mr. Jarvis, were you acquainted with the deceased, United States Congressman Arnold Pope Jr.?”

  “I was.”

  “When did you become acquainted with him?”

  “About two weeks before he died,” the lawyer answered.

  “Where and when did you meet?”

  “We met at three in the afternoon on a Wednesday in a tavern in Tualatin,” Jarvis said, naming a suburb a short ride from Portland.

  “That seems like an odd place for a member of the United States Congress to confer with an attorney.”

  “Yes, well, Mr. Pope didn’t want anyone to know about the meeting.”

  “Why is that?”

  “He was thinking of getting a divorce and he didn’t want the press—or anyone else—to find out.”

  “Was there anything unusual about the way the congressman was dressed when he met you?”

  “Yes. He was disguised. He wasn’t wearing a suit. He had on old, baggy jeans and a jacket with the collar turned up and sunglasses and a baseball cap. He kept on the jacket, cap, and glasses all the time we were talking.”

  “Was there one person in particular Congressman Pope wanted kept in the dark about your meeting?”

  “His wife.”

  “The defendant, Sally Pope?” Burdett asked.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Why didn’t he want his wife to know?”

  “He was afraid of her…”

  “Objection,” Frank said.

  “Goes to state of mind, Your Honor,” Burdett said.

  “I’ll allow the question,” Judge Hansen ruled.

  “You were saying?” Burdett continued, flashing a smirk at Frank.

  “He was afraid of what she would do if she found out he was going to divorce her.”

  “Was he specific about his concern?”

  “Yes, sir. He said he was afraid she would have him killed.”

  “Objection,” Frank boomed.

  “Yes, Mr. Burdett,” Judge Hansen told the prosecutor. Then she turned her attention to the jury.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, I am striking that last answer. You are to disregard it.”

  Fat chance, Frank thought.

  “What happened at the meeting?” the prosecutor asked.

  “We talked about the financial ramifications of the divorce and custody. The Popes had a young son.”

  “Did the congressman make a decision about what he was going to do at the meeting?”

  “No. Just before he left he said he’d get back to me.”

  Burdett turned toward the defense table. “Your witness, Mr. Jaffe.”

  “Mr. Jarvis, did you tell anyone about this secret meeting with Mr. Pope?”

  “No.”

  “So, only you and the congressman knew about it?”

  “I don’t know if the congressman told someone about it, but I didn’t.”

  “Mr. Jarvis, how many people are in your firm?”

  “I’m a sole practitioner. So it’s just me.”

  “You said that the congressman discussed the financial ramifications of a divorce from Mrs. Pope.”

  “Yes.”

  “There would have been several million dollars involved, wouldn’t there?”

  “Yes.”

  “How much money were you discussing?”

  “Uh, I don’t recall exactly.”

  Frank leaned back and smiled at the witness. “In the past, oh, say, five years, how many divorce cases have you handled involving many millions of dollars?”

  Jarvis flushed and looked down. “Uh, I’m not certain.”

  “Maybe I can help. If I told you that I had my investigator review every divorce case you’ve filed in the past five years and he told me that he could only find six such cases, all involving sums of less that two million dollars, would that surprise you?”

  “Uh, no.”

  “You don’t normally handle big-ticket divorce cases, do you?”

  “No, not normally.”

  “And you don’t normally represent prominent members of the Oregon community, do you?”

  “No.”

  “So the congressman would be quite an unusual and exciting client for you, wouldn’t he?”

  “I…yes.”

  “And the sum of money involved would be way more than you normally deal with, wouldn’t it?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you want this jury to believe that you can’t remember how many millions of dollars were involved?”

  “I, um, it just slips my mind, at the moment.”

  “Or, perhaps, you don’t know how much money was in his estate because you never met with Mr. Pope.”

  “I definitely met with him. I just don’t remember how much money he had.”

  Frank noticed a few jurors taking notes. He moved on.

  “Are there Oregon firms that routinely represent parties in divorces who are wealthy?”

  “Yes.”

  Frank rattled off the names of several law firms in the metropolitan area.

  “Any one of those firms would be used to handling cases with assets in the millions of dollars, wouldn’t they?”

  “Yes.”

  “During your years in practice, have you had ten complaints filed against you with the Oregon State Bar?”

  Jarvis flushed. “I’ve had some complaints filed. I don’t remember the number.”

  “Have you been suspended by the state bar from the practice of law for six months on two occasions for ethics violations?”

  “Yes,” Jarvis answered angrily.

  “Mr. Jarvis, do you still want this jury to believe that a man like Arnold Pope Jr., with all the contacts he had, chose to consult about his divorce with a lawyer who has rarely handled a society divorce or a divorce with these kinds of assets and who has bar complaints filed against him and who has been suspended several times for being unethical?”

  “I…he didn’t tell me why he chose me. Maybe he was afraid that it would get back to his wife if he went to one of the big firms.”

  “How did Mr. Pope arrange to meet you at the tavern?”

  “He phoned my office.”

  “Was there anything that would have prevented Mr. Pope from calling someone at a big firm to arrange a secret meeting at the tavern where you and he allegedly met?”

  “No,
I guess not.”

  “Do you bill by the hour, Mr. Jarvis?”

  “Yes, sometimes.”

  “So, you can produce a record of the initial call from the congressman if I subpoenaed it?”

  “No. I don’t think there is a record.”

  “There must be a record of the time spent during this conference. You can produce the file, can’t you?”

  “I didn’t make a file. The congressman didn’t hire me. We just consulted.”

  “But he paid you for the consultation? There’s a check, isn’t there?”

  “He…he paid me in cash. He didn’t want any record of the meeting his wife could discover.”

  “I assume you recorded the transaction somewhere so you’d remember to report the fee as income on your taxes?” Frank asked with a sweet smile.

  Jarvis looked like a deer caught in very bright headlights. “Uh, I may have forgotten.”

  “I see,” Frank said. “So, let me get this straight: there are no witnesses to this meeting, no records, no proof that it ever happened, except, of course, for your word?”

  “Why would I lie?” Jarvis asked, but he sounded desperate.

  “Good question. Did Arnold Pope Sr. pay you for your testimony?”

  Jarvis shot an involuntary glance at Senior then pulled his eyes away as soon as he realized what he’d done. Frank couldn’t see Senior’s reaction but he did notice several jurors look in Senior’s direction.

  “No. That’s not true,” Jarvis answered.

  “Then can you explain where you got the money you used last month to pay off the several thousand dollars in debt on your credit cards?”

  “I was in Las Vegas recently and I did very well at the tables,” Jarvis answered lamely.

  “Did you report your winnings to the IRS, or did you forget to make a note of them like you did the fee Congressman Pope allegedly paid you?”

  “I…I will at the appropriate time.”

  “Good for you, Mr. Jarvis. No further questions, Your Honor.”

  “THE STATE CALLS Anthony Rose, Your Honor,” Karl Burdett said as soon as Otto Jarvis fled the courtroom.

  While one of Burdett’s deputies ducked into the hall to summon the witness, Frank reread the meager investigative report Herb Cross had put together. Rose had gone to high school in Sisters, Oregon, a small town in the center of the state. He’d been a star on the tennis team but his grades weren’t good enough for a college scholarship, so he’d enlisted in the army. Rose had made an attempt to get into the Rangers but had not been selected. Herb had talked to a few of Rose’s acquaintances, who said he’d told them he’d made jumps from airplanes and excelled in marksmanship but washed out because of a hostile officer. Rose was honorably discharged from the military and enrolled in college at Ohio State, where he’d excelled on the tennis team, making the quarterfinals of the NCAA tournament his senior year. After a brief flirtation with professional tennis, Rose returned to Oregon, where he was hired as the club pro at the Westmont.

  The courtroom door opened but Frank waited for his first look at Sally’s lover until Rose raised his hand to be sworn. The tennis pro looked like a poster boy for a country club gigolo. He was handsome, athletic, and dressed in a navy blue blazer, neatly pressed tan slacks, and a sky blue shirt that was open at the neck enough to show a tuft of chest hair. Frank noticed that his smile caused the face of every woman on the jury to light up.

  “Mr. Rose, are you acquainted with the defendant?” Burdett asked after a few preliminary questions. Rose locked eyes with Sally. With his head turned, the jurors didn’t see him smirk.

  “You might say that,” Rose answered.

  “In what capacity have you known her?” the prosecutor asked.

  “In several capacities. She was my student—I gave her tennis lessons—I like to think we were friends and we were definitely lovers.”

  There were murmurs in the spectator section. Frank saw several jurors scrutinize Sally Pope in a distinctly unfriendly manner at the mention of a second extramarital affair.

  “How long did your sexual relationship with the deceased’s wife go on?”

  “A few months.”

  “Why did it end?”

  Rose paused for dramatic effect before answering.

  “She wanted me to murder her husband and I refused.”

  Frank heard gasps from the gallery and saw shocked expressions on more than one juror’s face.

  “That’s a lie,” Sally whispered vehemently.

  “Can you relate the conversation in which the defendant asked you to kill her husband?” Burdett asked as he struggled successfully to stifle a triumphant smile.

  “Certainly. We were at a gathering on an estate in Dunthorpe at which Charlie Marsh, or Guru Gabriel Sun, or whatever he was calling himself, was lecturing about inner peace or some such nonsense. Mrs. Pope asked me to go outside after the lecture. She led me to a secluded spot in the garden. As soon as we were alone and out of the hearing of the other guests, Mrs. Pope asked me if I would like to earn a quarter of a million dollars. I asked her how I could do that. She said her husband was planning to divorce her. There was some kind of contract the congressman’s father had insisted Mrs. Pope sign under the threat that he would disinherit his son if she didn’t. I don’t remember all of the details but the one that worried Mrs. Pope left her in bad shape financially if there was a divorce. But if her husband died before a divorce was final, she would inherit a fortune. She also said there was a life insurance policy for several million dollars. She sounded desperate.”

  “What did she suggest you do to help her avoid the consequences of a divorce?”

  “She wanted me to take care of her husband before he could file.”

  “What did she mean by ‘take care of’?”

  “Kill him. Murder him.”

  “There’s no question in your mind about that?”

  “None. She said she wanted him dead and how I did it would be left up to me.”

  “What was your response to Mrs. Pope’s request that you assassinate a member of the United States Congress?”

  “I told her she was nuts; that I wasn’t going to kill anyone, no matter how much money she offered me. Especially not a member of Congress. I mean, I’d have the whole federal government after me: the FBI, the CIA, the Secret Service.

  “To tell the truth, I was also offended that she had such a low opinion of me that she thought I’d kill somebody for money. And it was pretty clear that she was using me. I mean, she acted like she loved me and she hinted that we could get married after Junior was out of the way, but I know she didn’t have any real feelings for me.”

  Rose shrugged. “She was great in bed, but she lost interest as soon as she climaxed, if you know what I mean.”

  Burdett chose to move on rather than follow up on that topic.

  “How did the defendant act after you refused to help her murder her husband?”

  “She was very upset. She called me names, insulted my manhood.” Rose shrugged again. “Mrs. Pope was used to getting her way with men and I think she was shocked that any man could refuse any request she made, no matter how crazy.”

  “Did anything happen while you were arguing?”

  “Yes, sir. Charlie Marsh showed up. It was obvious that he wanted to impress Mrs. Pope by coming to her rescue.”

  “What happened?”

  “He hit me when I wasn’t prepared. Then he had his bodyguard rough me up.”

  “Did the bodyguard display a weapon?”

  “Yeah. I didn’t get a good look at it but there was a gun in his waistband. He made sure I saw it.”

  “Was there anything distinctive about the weapon?”

  “I do remember a fancy handle.”

  Burdett asked permission to approach the witness and showed Rose the murder weapon.

  “Is this the gun Mr. Marsh’s bodyguard was carrying?”

  Rose took the revolver and examined the grip. “I can’t be certain,” he said.
“I only saw the handle for a second. But this could be it.”

  Burdett returned the exhibit to the table holding the evidence, before continuing to question the witness.

  “Did you hear anything Mr. Marsh said to the defendant or anything she said to him after you fought?”

  “No. The bodyguard hauled me away and threatened to beat me up if I didn’t leave immediately. To tell the truth, after my conversation with Mrs. Pope I was pretty anxious to get as far from her as possible.”

  “Did you have any more contact with the defendant after your argument?”

  “No, sir. She did cancel her tennis lessons, but she did that with the pro shop.”

  Burdett consulted his notes. Then he addressed the judge.

  “No more questions on direct, Your Honor.”

  “Mr. Jaffe?” Judge Hansen asked.

  Frank had no idea how to cross-examine Rose, so he did the only thing he could think to do.

  “It’s getting late, Your Honor,” Frank said. “I wonder if we can recess for the day?”

  Judge Hansen glanced at the clock. It was 4:45. “Very well, Mr. Jaffe. We’ll reconvene in the morning.”

  Frank had maintained a stone face during Rose’s devastating testimony. As soon as the jury left the courtroom, he leaned over to his client.

  “He made that up,” Sally Pope said before Frank could get a word out.

  Her voice was tight with anger.

  “It’s a crime to commit perjury. He could go to prison if I prove he’s lying. Why is he doing this?”

  “I can think of two reasons he’d lie under oath. One is revenge. When we went into the garden, I told Tony I didn’t want to see him anymore. He was upset when I broke it off.”

  “Rose doesn’t strike me as the type who’d lose sleep over a woman telling him their affair was over. No offense, but I’m guessing you’re not the first club member he’s seduced.”

  “I know for a fact I’m not. And, for the record, I seduced him. But Tony is used to being the one who breaks off the affair and I think I bruised his ego.”