“So there is something to tell?” Dennis said eagerly. “You know World News could make this worth your while. You don’t have to work for a small firm your whole life. The publicity I can give you would definitely help your career.”
Kate held her temper. “That’s a good point,” she said evenly. “I’m certain every major law firm in the country would be eager to hire a private investigator willing to sell out every secret they had. I’ll remember to put in my résumé that I can be bought easily.”
Dennis colored as he realized that he’d gone too far. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
“I’m sure you didn’t,” Kate said, not bothering to mask her distaste.
“Hey, look, I’m sorry if we got off on the wrong foot. I don’t know what I was thinking. Let’s start over. Why don’t you tell me about the witness we’re going to interview?”
“We aren’t interviewing anyone, Dennis. Remember the ground rules? You’re just going to listen and you are not going to speak unless I say it’s okay.”
“Right, right. I get that. It was a figure of speech.”
“I’m glad we have that straight. Ralph Day was Junior’s opponent in the election. Pope defeated him the first time he ran for Congress but Day won when Junior was killed. Day was also at the Westmont on the evening the murder took place.”
“What do you think he can tell us…you…that will help Charlie’s case?”
“I have no idea.”
“Speaking of ideas, I got a few when I was going through the Pope file.”
“Such as?”
“We should talk to Werner Rollins. After he cut a deal with the cops, Rollins said he saw Marsh shoot Pope, but he could have been pressured to finger Charlie. Twelve years have gone by. Who knows what he’d say now. If he retracts his statement it will really help clear Charlie.”
Kate had never thought Levy was stupid—just obnoxious—and she was impressed by his insight.
“That’s good thinking, Dennis. I’ve been trying to find Rollins. He may be in Denver. I have a Colorado PI following up on a lead.”
“Great! Say, if you find him can I come along?”
“I’ll have to ask Amanda.”
“Oh, sure. Put in a good word for me, will you? I’d appreciate it.”
“I’ll do that.”
RALPH DAY’S INSURANCE agency was in a strip mall on the outskirts of Hillsboro. Day walked into the waiting room moments after his secretary buzzed him. He was a large, affable man in his early sixties with a little excess weight and a full head of white hair. He wore a charcoal gray suit and a conservative tie and looked the part of a successful insurance salesman. When they were seated in his office, Kate explained Dennis’s involvement in the case. The ex-congressman had no objections to having a reporter sit in on the interview.
“I read about the shooting at the courthouse,” Day said. “Was anyone hurt?”
“We were lucky. The sniper missed with both shots.”
“Thank God for that.” Day paused. He looked pensive. “Can you tell me why Marsh is coming back after all these years?”
“That’s what everyone wants to know,” Kate answered.
“I guess it will come out at the trial. So, what did you want to ask me? I don’t know what help I can be. This all happened so long ago.”
“I guess I should start by asking you about your relationship with Arnold Pope Jr. around the time he was killed.”
“That’s easy enough. I hated Pope’s guts. No, let me amend that. It was his father’s guts I hated. Junior didn’t have any. He was just the old man’s puppet. There were times I actually felt sorry for Junior. He didn’t have a mind or life of his own.”
“Can you explain that?” Kate asked.
“Sure. Arnie Jr. was the political equivalent of one of those prepackaged boy bands the record companies put together. Senior started grooming him to be president from the moment he was born.”
“I’ve been doing a little research and you credited Senior’s money with Junior’s victory in your first contest.”
“No question. I raised a decent amount for my campaign but I couldn’t compete. I couldn’t prove it but I know that Senior violated every campaign financing rule on the books. He funneled money through friends, employees, PACs he created with straw men. Hell, I had some money for TV, but you couldn’t turn on a set without seeing Junior’s smiling face in front of an American flag.”
“Would he have won a second term if he wasn’t murdered?”
“I’m far enough from the race to give you an honest answer. Junior would have kicked my butt. The boy had no substance but that was a hard point to make with an electorate that wasn’t paying much attention to our race. Of course, everyone paid attention when he got killed, and I was able to get a lot of free TV time.”
“You won the seat, so maybe you would have won anyway.”
“No, not a chance. If Junior hadn’t died I would have lost, but Junior’s party had to scramble to find someone to run against me and the best they could come up with was a retired county commissioner that nobody liked much. Senior never forgave me for taking Arnie’s spot in Congress. Next time around, he tried to bury me under his money again. I was better prepared and I won reelection, but it was close and he came at me every two years until he finally got me after my third term.”
“Do you miss being in Congress?” Kate asked sympathetically.
“I did but I’m over it. Life’s been pretty good to me. I dealt with the setback and put it behind me.”
“I understand you were at the Westmont the evening Junior was killed.”
Day nodded.
“What can you remember about the fight and the shooting?”
“Boy, that’s a tough one. It was dark and very chaotic, and I didn’t have a real clear impression of what happened even then.”
“That’s okay. Just give it your best shot.”
“Okay, well, I didn’t go to the club to hear the guru. I wasn’t into all that self-improvement stuff. I came to be seen, part of the politicking. I got to the Westmont just as Marsh’s entourage arrived and I parked in the lot. I was almost at the front entrance when the fight started.”
Day stared into space for a moment, his expression blank. Then he brightened.
“I do remember a big black man fighting with a security guard. People were pushing to get out of the way and I was shoved back from the action. Then I heard a shot. When I turned I saw Junior staggering. I remember Sally running to him, but I didn’t see much of what anyone else was doing, because I was focused on Junior.”
“Can you remember anyone else in the crowd, a witness we can talk to who may have seen something?”
Day’s brow furrowed as he tried to remember the twelve-year-old scene. After a while, he rattled off a few names Kate recognized from the police reports.
“That’s all the people I can recall right now. I’ll think about it some more and if…”
Day paused. “Oh, I’ve got one more. Tony Rose was there.”
“You saw Rose?”
“He was on the edge of the crowd almost in a line from where I was but much closer to the pro shop.”
“Near the spot where you saw the guard and the black man fighting?”
“Right. He may have had a better view of the shooting. You should ask him.”
“I’ll be sure to do that,” Kate said.
“IT LOOKS LIKE the interview was a bust. Day doesn’t know much,” Dennis said.
“Yeah, but we didn’t know that before we talked to him,” Kate answered, concealing from Dennis the conflict between what Tony Rose had told her about his location when Junior was shot and Day’s recollection.
“You know, I feel bad about the way I acted when we were on our way to see Day,” Levy said. “I’d like to make it up to you.”
“Forget about it. I have.”
“No, seriously, how about dinner, tonight? You can pick the restaurant. I’m on an expense account. Make it s
omeplace expensive and romantic.”
Kate turned her head for a second and Levy flashed a wolfish grin. The investigator made a note to ask Amanda for hazardous duty pay.
“Thanks, Dennis, but I’m living with someone.”
“He doesn’t have to know. Tell him it’s a business meeting.”
“Dennis, let me ask you directly. Are you hitting on me?”
Levy’s grin shifted from wolfish to sly. “Maybe.”
“Don’t.”
“By this time next year, I guarantee you I’m going to be famous and rich. You could do a lot worse.”
“Dennis, I’m trying to be nice and I’m trying to be clear. I’m in a serious relationship and it’s not with you. Furthermore, it won’t be, ever. Do you understand what I just said? And while you’re thinking about your answer, remember that I carry a gun and I know how to use it.”
CHAPTER 34
Twelve years ago, Sally Pope had made a vivid impression on the college student who was watching her father try his biggest case from the spectator section of a Washington County courtroom. The media portrayed Sally as a “femme fatale” and she embodied the secret fantasies of every school-girl who stayed on the straight and narrow. Women like Sally populated television soap operas and the romance novels serious young women read when no one was watching. Her looks were breathtaking and her figure was an advertisement for sex; she was mysterious and she may have been a murderess.
Something else had riveted Amanda’s attention on Mrs. Pope. Frank’s daughter could not help noticing the way her father’s eyes strayed to his client and the way Sally Pope’s hands strayed to her father’s forearm when they leaned close to confer. Amanda was living with Frank that summer. After the trial ended, he was conspicuously absent at night, often arriving home in the early hours of the morning.
Amanda had been fiercely protective of her father and not comfortable with the idea that he might be having a serious relationship with anyone. The possibility that the woman he was seeing could have murdered her husband ramped up the dread Amanda felt each time Frank disappeared.
Amanda never knew for certain that her father was romantically involved with Sally Pope and she never got up the nerve to confront him. Amanda almost forgot about Sally when she returned to the rigors of her college studies and the demands of the swim team, and she was very relieved when Sally left for Europe. But Amanda’s old emotions had resurfaced with the resurrection of the charges against Charlie Marsh.
A powerful sun was directly overhead when Amanda parked her car in the turnaround in front of Sally Pope’s house. She squinted to avoid the glare as she hurried into the shade of the front porch. Gina, Sally Pope’s personal assistant, showed Amanda into a large living room that looked out on a colorful flower garden through a set of French doors. Sally Pope entered the room a few minutes later.
“It’s good to see you again, Amanda,” Sally said with a pleasant smile. She was wearing tan shorts, sandals, and a yellow T-shirt, and her blond hair was pulled back in a ponytail. Amanda could see signs of aging but was still impressed by her beauty and poise.
“I’m surprised you remember me,” Amanda said as they shook hands.
“Of course I remember you. You were in court every day and Frank talked about you all the time. He’s very proud of you.”
Amanda blushed and Sally pointed toward a long, beige couch. “Why don’t we sit? Do you want coffee or an iced tea?”
“Iced tea sounds good,” Amanda said.
Gina had been waiting unobtrusively near the door to the living room. She left as soon as she heard what Amanda wanted to drink.
“I understand you saved Charlie’s life,” Sally said.
“I just pushed him down when the first shot was fired.”
“That was quick thinking.”
Amanda shrugged.
“Is Charlie okay?”
“He was shaken up but he’s not hurt.”
“Good. Frank said you wanted to talk to me about his case.”
“Is that okay?”
“Of course, but I don’t know what I can say that will help.”
“Let’s start with how you and Charlie met.”
Sally laughed. “He ‘rescued’ me from Tony Rose after one of his seminars at an estate in Dunthorpe. It really wasn’t necessary but he put on this macho act. He even punched Tony in the nose.”
“Was this when Rose says you asked him to murder your husband?”
Sally stopped smiling. “There was not one shred of truth in anything that bastard testified about.”
“Then why do you think he said it?”
“Isn’t it obvious? Senior paid him to lie. Who do you think bankrolled Mercury?”
“Can you prove that?”
Sally shook her head. “Senior is like some mythical beast when it comes to his business practices. You might think you’ve spotted a partial footprint in the snow but you never see the beast itself. Then the wind comes up and obliterates the track and you’re left with nothing.”
“If I call you, will you testify that you never asked Charlie to kill your husband?” Amanda asked as Gina returned with her iced tea.
“Of course. The only evidence Karl Burdett had was those photographs and the note, and Frank proved that was a setup.”
“But you and Charlie were lovers?” Amanda asked.
“Amanda, there were a lot of things I’ve done that I’m not proud of, and sleeping around is at the top of the list. Before I married Arnie, I did it because I thought that my body was the only thing I had going for me. After I married Arnie, I slept around to get his attention. Charlie was a roadside flare¸ that’s all. We never meant anything to each other.”
“What did you see at the Westmont?” Amanda asked.
“I didn’t see the person who shot Arnie, if that’s what you’re after.”
“Just tell me what you do remember.”
Sally closed her eyes for a moment and Amanda took a sip of iced tea.
“John Walsdorf, the club manager, and I were outside the front entrance when Charlie’s limo pulled up.”
“Before the limo arrived, did you have a conversation with Tony Rose?”
“That’s right! I forgot about that. Only it wasn’t a conversation. He wanted to talk but I didn’t. Especially not then, with the guest of honor arriving.”
“What happened?” Amanda asked.
“I told Tony I couldn’t talk to him and he left me alone.”
“Did you notice where he went?”
Sally’s brow furrowed. After a few seconds, she shook her head.
“I’m sorry. As soon as Tony walked off, Charlie’s limo pulled up. Then Arnie started causing trouble and there was the fight. I forgot all about Tony.”
“So you don’t remember seeing him after he tried to talk to you?”
“I’m pretty certain Frank asked me who I remembered seeing and where they were standing soon after I hired him. He probably made notes.”
“I’ve seen them. I wanted to get your impressions now.”
“I remember Charlie getting out of the car. There was some trouble with a man who looked like a biker. He testified at the trial, but I don’t remember his name. Then Arnie came storming up and threw the photos in my face. That’s when the fight started.”
“Did you see your husband get shot?”
Sally nodded. She looked sad. “I was watching him during the fight so I did see him get shot, but I didn’t see who did it because my eyes were on Arnie.”
“And you don’t remember who was near him?”
“Just people. It was dark, there was a lot of confusion.”
“What about the guy who looked like a biker? Did you see him?”
“Yes. He was fighting with one of the security guards. So was Charlie’s bodyguard, Delmar Epps.”
“Were you close to Mr. Epps at any time that evening?”
“I was right next to him when he got out of the limo. There was some problem with a man who
opened Charlie’s door. It wasn’t his driver. I can’t remember his name. He wasn’t a witness at the trial.
“Anyway, the driver was coming around to do it, but this man walked up to the car and opened the door. Then Delmar got out and it looked like there might be trouble, so I walked over to the car to cool things down.”
“How close were you standing to Mr. Epps when you went to the car?”
“I was in front of him, almost touching.”
“Did you notice whether he was carrying a gun?”
“In his hand?”
“Anywhere on his person.”
Sally closed her eyes and concentrated. After a short time she opened her eyes and shook her head.
“I don’t remember seeing a gun, but I wasn’t really looking. He could have had a gun under his jacket.”
“What about Charlie? Where did he go when the fighting started?”
“I’m not sure. I didn’t see him in a fight with anyone, but that doesn’t surprise me. Charlie was a talker, not a fighter. He wouldn’t have hit Tony if his bodyguard wasn’t right behind him. Quite honestly, I can’t imagine he would shoot someone, either.”
“Your husband had just hit him and was running toward him.”
“I know, but I just don’t think Charlie had that kind of violence in him.”
CHAPTER 35
Amanda decided to spend the rest of the day reviewing the file in State v. Pope. Dennis Levy was no longer in the conference room and she thanked God for small favors. By the time she was done for the day, she was working on her third mug of coffee and everyone else in the office was gone. Mike Greene called to see if she wanted to grab a bite to eat, but she was so tired she decided that a quick dinner, a warm bath, and an early bedtime was what she needed.
Amanda ordered sushi to go at a restaurant near her office. A little before eight, she parked in her spot in the garage of a converted redbrick warehouse in Portland’s trendy Pearl District and took the elevator to her loft. It was 1,200 square feet of mostly open space with hardwood floors, high ceilings, and tall windows that gave her a view of the metal arches of the Freemont Bridge, the traffic on the Willamette River, and the snow-covered slopes of Mount St. Helens, an active volcano. Most of the art that decorated her condo had been purchased in the galleries scattered among the restaurants and coffee houses that were so easy to find in the Pearl. She loved living someplace where she could walk to work or take the trolley on days when she didn’t need her car.
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