Fugitive: A Novel

by Phillip Margolin

  Charlie sighed. “Let’s get this over.”

  For the next hour, Marsh told his lawyer about his years in exile, concluding with an account of his hairbreadth escape from the makeshift airfield.

  “Jesus, Charlie, you’re lucky to be alive.”

  “I want you to keep me that way.”

  “I’m definitely going to try my best, but tell me, if you didn’t kill Pope, who did?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Everyone says the shot was fired near you and the gun was found where you were standing.”

  “Look, Amanda, it was dark, what with Werner and Delmar fighting and Pope screaming at me and the citizens shrieking, it was like being in the middle of a three-ring circus.”

  “So you’re saying that you don’t have any idea who killed Arnold Pope?”

  “None whatsoever.”

  AMANDA WAS DOG-TIRED by the time she checked into her hotel. Her cross-country trip and the lengthy interview with Charlie had been exhausting, and Dennis Levy hadn’t made her job any easier. He’d tried to eavesdrop on their conference several times and she’d used a lot of energy fending off his constant attempts to convince her that there would be no real problem if he had better access to her client.

  Amanda took a hot shower to banish the chill that the arctic conditions in Charlie’s condo had seeded into her bones. There was a message from Martha Brice, who wanted an update. Amanda gave it to her while luxuriating on her bed, wrapped in one of the terry-cloth robes that the hotel provided. She was tempted to call Mike Greene just so she could talk about something other than the case, but she remembered the three-hour time difference between New York and Oregon and realized he’d probably be in court. Instead, she called Karl Burdett to tell him that Marsh would fly back on Wednesday. Burdett agreed to set the bail hearing for Thursday. Amanda had feared that the DA would renege on his promise and she breathed a sigh of relief when she hung up the phone. After the call to Burdett, she phoned her office to see if there was anything that required her attention and spoke briefly with Kate Ross.

  When she finished her conversation with Kate, Amanda was a little more relaxed and ready to think about her first impressions of Charlie Marsh. He was definitely not faking his relief at escaping from Batanga. His years there sounded like hell. Amanda couldn’t imagine the horror he’d felt when he saw his butchered lover in Baptiste’s torture chamber.

  Marsh also seemed needy and unsure of himself. He had tried to put on a brave front but Amanda could tell he was scared; a perfectly rational reaction, given his situation. Getting Charlie bail wasn’t going to be easy. Neither was keeping him off of death row.

  What worried Amanda most was whether Charlie was anxious because he had murdered Arnold Pope Jr. In the American legal system, the state was the only party with a burden at trial. It had to convince the jury beyond a reasonable doubt that a defendant was guilty as charged. A defendant never had a burden of proving anything, so a defense attorney didn’t need to know whether her client had committed the crime with which he was charged. That didn’t mean that Amanda wasn’t as curious about her client’s culpability as she was about the contents of the box he’d given her. Charlie’s protestations of innocence were convincing, but he was a con man, and con men made their living by lying with a straight face.

  CHAPTER 27

  The knot in Frank Jaffe’s gut tightened as he drew closer to Sally Pope’s estate. The more he wanted to see her, the more he didn’t. When Frank promised Amanda that he’d meet with Sally, he honestly thought he could handle seeing her again. Now, he wasn’t so sure.

  Sally lived in the middle of farm country. Here and there, cattle, sheep, and horses grazed in fenced pastures and a barn or a farmhouse appeared. There were low hills and cultivated squares of yellow and green given over to crops or dark brown patches where the fields had been churned to reclaim the soil for planting.

  Frank had arranged the meeting through Jimmy Pavel, the attorney who handled Sally’s legal affairs. A few hours after Frank phoned, Pavel called with directions to the estate and a time for the meeting. While he waited for the call, Frank looked up Sally on the Internet. There were numerous references to her before, during, and immediately after the trial. The search results tailed off drastically after she moved to Europe but there were references that linked her to Liam O’Connell, an Irish author who’d been short-listed for the Booker Prizeb and was a minor celebrity in the U.K. There were very few hits since she’d returned to the States.

  A low stone wall marked the boundaries of the estate. It broke to permit access to the grounds along a dirt road that wound through a thicket of trees. After a short distance, the woods gave way to an expanse of well-tended lawn and a view of a white, antebellum plantation home that looked down on new arrivals from its perch on top of a gentle rise. An image flashed through Frank’s mind, of hoop-skirted southern belles fanning themselves in the summer heat while their beaus sipped mint juleps on the veranda.

  The drive curved in front of a columned portico. Frank parked and got out. A white-and-honey-colored collie trotted toward him, wagging its tail lazily. Frank leaned over to pet the dog, then rang the doorbell. After his Gone with the Wind moment, Frank was disappointed when the woman who answered the door was wearing jeans and a light blue T-shirt. She had straight black hair, an engaging smile, and a heavy Italian accent.

  “You must be Mr. Jaffe.”

  Frank nodded.

  “I’m Gina, Mrs. Pope’s personal assistant. She’s expecting you. She’s around back. Follow the path. You can’t miss her.”

  Frank followed a trail of irregularly shaped slabs of gray slate around the side of the three-story house. The collie trotted along beside him. Frank heard a splash and laughter and saw three teenage boys playing in a large swimming pool. They were bronzed from hours in the summer sun. Two of the boys had mops of shaggy black hair. Chlorine and sunlight had turned the tallest boy’s hair a shiny, copper blond. There was a diving board at the deep end and the boys were taking turns doing silly dives. The blond boy paused at the end of the board. He was lean and muscular. After a few bounces he pushed off and rose gracefully. At the point where a competitive diver would have tucked and somersaulted, he flailed his arms in crazy circles and belly-flopped, creating a tidal wave that soaked his friends. The boys laughed and Frank smiled.

  “That’s Kevin.”

  Frank turned. Sally Pope was observing him from beneath a floppy, wide-brimmed straw hat. There were gardening gloves on her hands and she was holding a trowel. Sally was dressed in patched jeans and a short-sleeved shirt stained with dirt. She was not wearing makeup, and perspiration streaked her face. There was a spot of grime on one cheek, where she’d touched it with her glove. With all that, Frank thought she was still one of the most beautiful women he’d ever seen.

  “He looks like he’s had a few lessons,” Frank said as he watched Sally’s son swim a lap of butterfly.

  Sally grinned and her smile affected him as it had all those years ago.

  “He’s on the high school team.” She pulled off her gloves and wiped her brow. “Let’s talk on the patio. And take off your jacket and tie. It’s way too hot for formal attire.”

  Sally led the way to a circular glass table on a large brick patio that was mercifully shaded by an overhang. Frank stripped off his jacket and was loosening his tie when Gina appeared with a pitcher of iced tea. Sally set her hat on a chair and shook out her hair. Despite an occasional strand of gray, her blond hair was still vibrant.

  “You look good, Frank.”

  “I look old.”

  She smiled. “Not so old. How’s Amanda?”

  “Great. She’s a partner in the firm.”

  “I tried to keep up on Oregon news when I was living in Italy and I read about some of her big cases.”

  “She’s got another one. That’s why I’m here.”

  “Jimmy said it was about a case, but he also said you refused to explain.”

&n
bsp; “I wanted to tell you in person. Charlie Marsh is coming back to stand trial.”

  The color drained from Sally’s face.

  “I wanted to give you a heads-up before the press learns he’s coming home.”

  “My God, I can’t go through that again.”

  “I’m afraid you won’t be able to avoid it. Karl Burdett is bound to call you as a witness.”

  Sally turned her head toward the pool. “They’ll go after Kevin.”

  “He was too young. He wouldn’t know anything Karl could use.”

  “Not Burdett, the reporters. I’ve tried to shield him. Now it will all come out about Arnie and me, my affairs.”

  She looked sick.

  “I’m sorry,” Frank said, knowing that the tepid sentiment was totally inadequate and would do nothing to disperse the terrible cloud Sally and her son would soon be under.

  “Why is he doing this?” Sally asked. “They’ll try to get the death penalty. Why come back?”

  “I don’t know. Amanda is with him now. She’ll find out, but she may not be able to tell you.”

  Sally clenched her fists. She was looking someplace that Frank could not see. After a few moments she took a deep breath and Frank saw the steely reserve she’d displayed during her trial push aside the other emotions.

  “You’ll get through this,” Frank assured her. “So will Kevin.”

  “Yes, we will,” Sally answered firmly. “So, Frank, did you come out just to warn me?”

  Frank took the waiver out of his jacket pocket. “Amanda is cautious and she likes to do everything correctly. Since I represented you and she’s my law partner, she asked me to approach you about waiving any conflicts of interest so she can represent Charlie.”

  “Would there be any danger to Kevin or me if I sign?”

  “I don’t think so. The attorney-client privilege would still be in effect and you always maintained your innocence. I can’t think of anything you confided to me that was incriminating. But you can consult an attorney if you’re worried.”

  “What will happen if I don’t sign?”

  “Amanda might have to get off the case, but that wouldn’t end it. Marsh would just hire a different lawyer.”

  “Give me a pen,” Sally said.

  “Thank you. This case means a lot to Amanda.”

  Sally smiled. “Does she want to prove she’s as good as her old man?”

  Frank smiled back. “I’m sure that has something to do with it.”

  “She has a long way to go if that’s her goal.”

  “Not as far as you might think. She’s one hell of a lawyer.”

  Sally’s smile faded. She studied the man across the table. “How are you doing, Frank?”

  He shrugged. “The practice is going strong.”

  “That’s not what I meant.”

  “There hasn’t been anyone significant in my life since you left, if that’s what you’re getting at.”

  “You know it hurt me to go, but I had to put Kevin first. He would have been a constant focus of the tabloids, and there was Senior. He even dogged me in Italy. If I didn’t have the money for the best lawyers it would have been worse than it was.”

  “You don’t owe me an explanation.”

  “I wanted you to know.”

  “Thank you. I understand you found someone.”

  Sally nodded. “Liam. He’s away teaching a summer course at Berkeley.”

  “How long have you been together?”

  “Five years now. Kevin adores him.”

  Frank forced a smile. “I’m happy for you.”

  “It might have been different under different circumstances.”

  “You and I are old news, Sally.”

  Sally picked up the pen Frank had placed on the table and signed the waiver.

  Frank nodded toward the pool. “How much does Kevin know about what happened to his father?”

  “He knows Arnie was a congressman and that he was murdered. He knows I was tried but the charges were dismissed.” She paused. “We rarely talk about the case. I guess we’ll have to now. He’ll read about it in the newspaper, and someone at school will bring it up.”

  “Is he as tough as his old lady?”

  “I think so. I hope so, because this won’t be easy.”

  “What about Charlie Marsh? Do you know anything that can help Amanda?”

  “Honestly, I don’t. I was focused on Arnie during the fight. I have no idea who shot him.”

  “If Amanda wants to talk to you, will you see her?”

  “Of course.”

  Frank put the waiver in his attaché and stood up. “It’s been good seeing you again, Sally.”

  “Can’t you stay? Gina can make us lunch.”

  “I wish I could but I have an appointment in town. A client.”

  Sally studied him, trying to divine if he was telling the truth. Frank showed her the face juries saw, which exhibited no emotion even when events in the courtroom took sudden or terrible turns. She stood and offered him her hand. It was warm and he let the touch linger for a moment more than was necessary for a farewell.

  “I’m glad I got a chance to see Kevin,” Frank said.

  “I’m glad I got to see you again.”

  Sally walked Frank to his car and waved as he drove off. When he was out of sight, Frank let out the breath he’d been suppressing along with his emotions. He’d lied to Sally. There was no client waiting for him. Being with her had been hard, and he’d had no desire to prolong the pain.

  CHAPTER 28

  On Tuesday afternoon, shortly after a brief phone conference with Amanda, Kate Ross called to set up an interview with Tony Rose, never expecting the president of Mercury Enterprises to grant it. Rose was the head of an international business empire and she was an investigator for a small local law firm. When Kate drove into the visitors’ parking lot on the Mercury campus, she was still trying to figure out why Rose’s assistant had phoned back fifteen minutes after her call to tell her that Mr. Rose would see her in an hour. The only answer she could come up with was that the names Sally Pope and Charlie Marsh were the equivalent of “Open Sesame” where Rose was concerned.

  The Mercury Enterprises campus was a sprawling, ecologically friendly collection of glass-and-steel buildings interspersed with tennis courts, soccer fields, outdoor and indoor basketball courts, and a track-and-field complex. Kate saw an indoor, Olympic-size swimming pool through the glass walls of a pyramid-shaped structure she passed on the way to the administration building. Nationally known track-and-field athletes participated in Mercury’s famous training program, and the campus was home to basketball camps for budding NBA stars. It didn’t take Kate long to conclude that the onetime gigolo and tennis bum had done all right for himself.

  The reception area of the administration building with its wide-open spaces, glass walls, and three-story atrium had the feel of a botanical garden. Kate gave her name to the guard at the reception desk. He made a brief phone call before giving her a clip-on visitor’s pass and telling her to have a seat. As she thumbed through a copy of Sports Illustrated, intense men and women sped by her, obviously on missions of great importance. Everyone, regardless of age, looked terribly fit. Kate made a vow to get back into her workout routine as soon as she returned from the interview. Her interlude of self-castigation was interrupted by the appearance of a stunning brunette in an expensive, tailored business suit, who escorted her to an elevator separate from the main bank.

  The car whisked them to the executive offices, where the doors opened on a waiting area decorated with cases displaying medals and trophies won by Mercury-sponsored athletes. The walls were covered with blowups of Mercury advertisements and photographs of athletes in action. Kate recognized most of the featured stars. The brunette ushered Kate past the displays to Tony Rose’s inner sanctum.

  The office décor was an extension of the waiting room. Trophy cases lined two walls, and photographs of sports figures hung above them. The rest of the
walls were glass and gave its occupant a spectacular view of the Columbia River. Tony Rose got up and walked around the side of a large modern desk made of glass and wrought iron. If he’d aged since the Pope trial, Kate couldn’t tell.

  “Thank you for seeing me on such short notice,” Kate said as they shook hands.

  “When my assistant said you worked for Frank Jaffe’s law firm and wanted to see me about Sally Pope and Charlie Marsh, I had to find out what was going on.”

  Rose motioned Kate into a chair and perched on the edge of the desk, gaining the high ground. He flashed a disarming, boyish smile and Kate saw why the ladies at the Westmont might have found him irresistible.

  “So, Ms. Ross, what is going on?”

  “Charlie Marsh is returning to Oregon to face the charges against him.”

  “No kidding? Is Frank Jaffe representing him?”

  “He can’t. He represented Mrs. Pope, so he has a conflict of interest.”

  “Too bad. I always wondered how I would have held up if he’d questioned me. I was looking forward to crossing swords with him. So, if Frank isn’t Marsh’s lawyer, who is?”

  “Frank’s daughter, Amanda.”

  Rose nodded. “That’s right. She’s supposed to be pretty good, too. So, what can I do for you?”

  “I wanted to talk to you because Karl Burdett will probably call you as a witness.”

  “About Sally trying to hire me to kill Junior?”

  Kate nodded. “You were also at the Westmont when Congressman Pope was shot, weren’t you?”

  “Yeah, but I can’t help your client.”

  “Oh?”

  “I was some distance from the action in the parking lot, almost at my car, when I heard the shot. I turned around but I couldn’t see much because of the people between me and the congressman, and it was dark.”

  “Why were you at the club that evening?”

  “I probably worked late. I had administrative duties connected with being the club pro. But that’s a guess. You’ve got to remember, this was twelve years ago.”