“Then someone stole your ride. A VIN number is a seventeen-character alphanumeric code specific to each vehicle.”
“Tell me something I don’t know,” Rodriguez said, but he was staring at a section of the photo and he’d started to sweat.
“The VIN is mounted on a strip where the dashboard and the windshield meet on the driver’s side. Yours is reflected in the picture. Like I said, an amateur’s mistake. I traced the VIN back to you, Jack.”
“You’re in a lot of trouble,” Frank said. “I’m sure you know that Sally Pope is on trial for killing her husband.”
“What’s that have to do with me?”
“Do you know the DA’s theory? He thinks your photos were used to lure Congressman Pope to his death. That makes you an accessory to murder.”
“Bullshit.” Rodriguez hugged himself tighter. “I want a lawyer.”
“Cops have to get suspects lawyers. I’m not a cop.”
“Then who the fuck are you?”
“Your savior, Jack. The man who can keep you from facing a murder charge.”
CHAPTER 21
Karl Burdett was in a great mood when he led his trial assistants into the courtroom the next morning. Frank Jaffe was supposed to be a hot shot but Karl felt that he had him on the ropes. True, Jaffe had scored some points with Otto Jarvis, but he didn’t think he’d lay a glove on Tony Rose. If the jurors believed Rose, the case was over.
“Mr. Burdett,” Judge Hansen’s bailiff said while Karl was swinging his attaché case onto the prosecution table, “the judge wants you in chambers.”
“What’s up?”
“I don’t know, but Judge Hansen, Mr. Jaffe, his client, and two other men are waiting for you.”
Karl frowned. He told his assistants to get his files ready and walked toward the judge’s chambers. He didn’t like surprises.
“Morning, Karl,” the judge said. She hadn’t donned her robes yet and was wearing a black pants suit and white silk blouse. Even though it was illegal to smoke in a public building, Hansen was on her third cigarette and the room stank from cigarette smoke.
Karl recognized Herb Cross, who was sitting on a couch against the wall next to a scrawny, unkempt man who looked to be in his late twenties and was wearing a sweatshirt, jeans, and running shoes.
Judge Hansen pointed at a chair. It was across the desk from her and next to Frank, who was seated next to his client. The only other person in the room was the judge’s court reporter, which meant they weren’t going to have an off-the-record chat.
“Mr. Jaffe has brought some very unsettling information to me and I’m trying to figure out the best way to handle the situation,” the judge said.
“What situation? I don’t know what’s going on.” The DA cast a quick glance at Jack Rodriguez. “If it involves a new witness, Mr. Jaffe hasn’t given me notice as required by the discovery rules.”
“It does involve a witness but Mr. Jaffe didn’t learn about him until last night. That’s why we’re meeting. However, before we discuss Mr. Rodriguez’s testimony, I want to make certain that I understand your case. You’re not going to argue that Mrs. Pope shot her husband, are you?”
“No. Charlie Marsh shot him.”
Judge Hansen nodded. “Okay, so, if I’ve got this right, you’re going to argue that Mrs. Pope and Mr. Marsh conspired to kill her husband.”
“Right.”
“Then Mrs. Pope got someone to take photographs of her and Mr. Marsh in compromising positions and sent these pictures to her husband to make him angry and jealous so he would come to the Westmont Country Club where Mr. Marsh could kill him.”
“That’s our case.”
“Mr. Jaffe, let’s put Mr. Rodriguez’s testimony on the record,” the judge said.
“I object to this…this procedure. I really don’t…”
“Relax, Karl,” the judge said. “I’m taking this testimony in chambers so the press won’t hear it. That would be pretty embarrassing for you. You’ll catch on once you hear what Frank’s witness has to say.”
Frank turned his chair toward the PI. “The judge swore you earlier, Mr. Rodriguez, and you’re still under oath. Understand?”
“Yeah,” Rodriguez answered reluctantly.
“Are you a private investigator?”
“Yes.”
“Have I shown you state’s exhibit thirteen, the photographs that were sent to Congressman Pope?”
“Yes.”
“Did you take the pictures?”
“Yes.”
“Please tell us why you were following Mrs. Pope and Mr. Marsh and taking photographs of them.”
“I got a phone call.”
“From who?”
“A man.”
“Did he tell you who referred him to you?”
“I do work for the Reed, Briggs law firm every once in a while. He mentioned a lawyer over there.”
Frank turned to the judge. “If I may, Your Honor, I’m prepared to prove that the Reed, Briggs firm handles Arnold Pope Sr.’s legal work.”
“Whoa, wait a second. What’s going on here?” Burdett asked, alarmed by anything that could damage his relationship with his largest contributor.
“Relax and you’ll find out,” the judge told the DA. “Proceed, Mr. Jaffe.”
“Okay. Now, Mr. Rodriguez, was there anything unusual about the voice of the man who contacted you?”
“He had a British accent.”
“Did I have you call a number, last night?”
“Yes.”
“Who did you call?”
“You said it was the unlisted number at Arnold Pope Sr.’s estate.”
“Was there anything familiar about the voice of the man who answered the phone?”
“Yeah. It was the guy who’d hired me.”
“You’re certain?”
Rodriguez shrugged. “Well, I never met the guy but it sounded just like him. He had that British accent. And when I told him who I was he got very panicky and refused to put me through to Mr. Pope.”
“Did he hang up?”
“Yeah.”
“Your Honor,” Frank said, “Derrick Barclay, Mr. Pope’s personal assistant, has a British accent. I made a recording of the call and Mr. Barclay sounds pretty rattled on it.”
“Very well. Go on.”
“When you were hired, what were the terms and what were you told to do?” Frank asked.
“The guy with the accent wanted me to follow Mrs. Pope and take pictures if I caught her doing something she shouldn’t.”
“How were you paid?”
“Upfront into my bank account.”
“Did you ever learn the name of the man who paid you?”
“No.”
“Did you have more than one conversation with this man?”
“Yeah. He called a little after Mrs. Pope was arrested.”
“During that phone conversation did the man ask for the name of a divorce attorney who wouldn’t mind bending the rules a little?”
“Yeah. He said he’d heard that I did work for small firms and solos and he said he needed a guy who could use some dough and wasn’t picky about what he had to do to earn it.”
“Did you give him a name?”
“I told him about Otto.”
“Otto Jarvis?”
“Yeah.”
“Did you give the pictures that were sent to Congressman Pope to someone?”
“Not exactly.”
“What did you do with them?”
“I sent them to a PO box.”
“That’s all, Your Honor.”
“Would everyone but Karl please leave my chambers,” Judge Hansen said.
“I don’t think…” the DA started.
“I think it would be better for you if we talked without an audience,” Judge Hansen said. “Mr. Jaffe, you don’t mind if Mr. Burdett and I have an ex parte conference, do you?”
“No, Your Honor.”
As soon as they were alone, Judge Hansen
took a drag on her cigarette. Then she shook her head.
“I thought this case smelled as soon as I heard your theory.”
“Those pictures…”
“If Mrs. Pope didn’t hire Rodriguez to take them, the only thing they prove is that she was set up.”
“Marsh could have faked a British accent to make everyone think that Derrick Barclay made the call,” Burdett persisted.
Hansen leaned forward and fixed Burdett with a hard stare.
“I’ve heard the tape of Rodriguez’s call and I know how Barclay’s voice sounds. I’ve also heard scuttlebutt around the courthouse that you had no intention of charging Sally Pope until you came back from a meeting with Arnie Sr. Is there any truth to the rumors?”
Burdett shifted uneasily in his seat. “The grand jury found…”
“The grand jury will find anything you want them to. We both know that, so don’t give me that shit. I have half a mind to haul Derrick Barclay and his boss in front of a grand jury and ask them about those photographs.”
The blood drained from Burdett’s face.
“Now, I’m going to assume you didn’t know that Jarvis was committing perjury before you put him on, but you have to believe that none of the jurors are going to credit his bullshit story about the so-called secret meeting. And Tony Rose is so slimy I’m surprised he didn’t slide off the witness chair. The whole prosecution stinks, and the question for you to ponder is who will be in the shit when the smoke clears.
“If you go forward, Frank’s going to drag Senior and that little weasel Barclay into court, and I promise you this. If they lie under oath in my court, I will put them in prison along with anyone who was their knowing accomplice. So, here’s my suggestion. You ask for a dismissal with prejudice and I’ll grant it. Otherwise, you’re on your own.”
KARL BURDETT TOOK several hours before returning to court to tell the judge that he was going to dismiss the case against Sally with prejudice. Most of that time was spent in his office with Arnold Pope Sr. and Derrick Barclay, trying to explain the consequences they would face if their complicity in luring Arnold Jr. to the Westmont was made public and they had any part in shaping the testimony of Otto Jarvis or Tony Rose. Some of the time was spent weathering Senior’s tirades.
As soon as Arnold Pope stormed out of his office, Burdett drew up a motion to dismiss with prejudice. When the paperwork was completed, Judge Hansen ordered the dismissal in open court. Then Frank and the DA held a press conference at which the prosecutor said that evidence had come to light that raised reasonable doubts about Sally Pope’s guilt. Burdett refused to answer any questions about the evidence, claiming there was an ongoing investigation that could be jeopardized if he disclosed what he’d learned. At Judge Hansen’s urging, Frank agreed that he would not reveal the evidence that had led to his client’s exoneration, so Frank simply thanked the prosecutor for having the courage to change his mind when justice demanded it. Burdett claimed the high ground by saying that the prosecution always wins when justice is served.
“I CAN’T BELIEVE it’s over,” Sally said an hour after Frank drove away from the courthouse. They were seated across from each other in Sally’s living room, drinking her scotch. Her son, Kevin, was staying with a friend who had been taking care of him during the trial. “I’m only sorry that the jury didn’t say I wasn’t guilty.”
“A dismissal with prejudice is the same as an acquittal,” Frank reminded her. “The DA can never charge you with your husband’s murder again.”
“There are people who will think I got off on a technicality.”
“Those people would always have questions no matter how the case ended. You’re just going to have to ignore them.”
“That bastard,” Sally muttered. “I wish there was some way to get back at him.”
“You’re going to have to ignore Senior, too.”
“That won’t be easy. I know him. He’ll go after me as long as he’s alive. He can tie up Arnie’s estate, and he swore he’d try and get custody of Kevin.”
“Senior won’t succeed if he tries either of those ploys. He could face criminal charges if it came out that he bribed witnesses to lie about you and you’d have one hell of a lawsuit.”
“I don’t want to file a lawsuit. I just want to be left in peace.”
“I’ll do my best to see that it happens.”
Sally shifted her gaze from her glass to her lawyer. “You’ve been wonderful.”
Frank felt uncomfortable. He wanted to look away but felt he would reveal his emotions if he did. Instead, the blush that colored his cheeks served that purpose.
“It was easy. I believed in you.”
Sally didn’t speak for several heartbeats. Then she said, “I don’t want to be alone tonight.”
“What do you mean?”
“You know what I mean. I want you to stay with me.”
All of the confidence Frank had demonstrated in court deserted him.
“I can’t, Sally.”
“Don’t tell me you don’t want to.”
“You’re a client. The rules of ethics…”
“Don’t mean a damn thing if two people care about each other. I’ve seen the way you look at me. You didn’t work as hard as you did to free me just because I paid you.”
Frank knew there were a million reasons he should stand up and leave, but he didn’t.
PART III. State of Oregon v. Charlie Marsh 2009
CHAPTER 22
The long table that filled the center of the Jaffe, Katz conference room was covered with banker’s boxes, transcripts, three-ring binders, and case files. Amanda had cleared a space on one end for her sandwich and coffee mug, and she had finished eating well before Frank finished his recap of the Pope case.
“I forgot that Tony Rose was a key witness against Mrs. Pope,” Amanda said. “Life sure takes interesting turns.”
“That it does,” Frank said as he considered the way fortune had favored the former country club tennis pro.
“And I always wondered about what went on in chambers that morning.”
“I couldn’t tell you or anyone else. Burdett agreed to drop the case if the reason for the dismissal was sealed.”
“Did Senior go after Mrs. Pope after the trial?”
Frank nodded. “He’s a vindictive prick. He threatened a civil suit for wrongful death, he threatened to contest Junior’s will, and he threatened to get custody of his grandson. I put a stop to that at a sit-down with him and his attorney. Once his lawyer saw that there was a good chance I could prove he’d hired Rodriguez to take the pictures and bribed Otto Jarvis to perjure himself, he convinced Senior to back off.”
“What happened to Mrs. Pope?” Amanda asked.
“The money Junior left her and the proceeds of the insurance policy made her a wealthy woman. As soon as everything was settled, she moved to Europe with her son to protect him from the publicity. She lived in Italy until recently, when she returned to Oregon so Kevin could finish his education in America.”
“Have you seen her since she came back?”
“No. She’s a bit of a recluse, and I haven’t had a reason to renew our acquaintance,” Frank said.
Amanda thought her father sounded a little stiff. She thought she knew why, but decided to ignore his reaction.
“Are you certain Mrs. Pope had nothing to do with her husband’s death?” she asked instead.
Frank thought about Amanda’s question. “Judge Hansen told me Karl Burdett argued that Charlie Marsh could have faked a British accent to frame Senior in case anyone figured out that Rodriguez took the pictures. It did seem odd to me that Senior would let someone who’d be so easy to identify negotiate with Rodriguez. But I’m fairly certain that Sally Pope is innocent. I even wondered if the bullet that hit Junior was meant for her. Sally was almost next to him when the shot was fired.”
Amanda stood up and tossed her trash in the wastebasket. “Will you try to get the waiver for me?”
“I
’ll call Sally today.”
“Thanks, Dad.”
“My pleasure.”
Frank’s shoulders sagged as soon as the door closed behind his daughter. He had told Amanda what she needed to know about the Pope case to represent her client, but he hadn’t told her anything about his relationship with Sally Pope. There were some things that a father didn’t discuss with his children, like the torrid affair that had started the evening Frank had won Sally’s case and the way he’d felt when she went to Europe. Frank had been confused, frustrated, and, though he hated to admit it, lovesick. Just thinking about Sally today had resurrected those emotions.
Before she’d left him, Frank had convinced himself that Sally was drawn to him as much as he was attracted to her. There was the way she looked at him, the way she moved so close whenever the occasion permitted intimacy. There was the timbre of her voice when it was late in the evening and he was driving her back to her house. Later, he rationalized making love to her that first time by telling himself that he’d had too much to drink, but he knew he would never pass a polygraph on that one. Plain and simple, except for Samantha, he had never wanted a woman the way he wanted Sally Pope.
The affair had lasted several months. If it had been made public, it could have cost Frank his license to practice law but he was willing to risk it. Then all of Sally’s legal affairs were settled. When she told him that she was going away, Frank had felt the bottom drop out of his world. Sally had said all of the right things-she loved him, she would always think of him-but she’d asked him to understand that she had to put Kevin’s happiness before her own.
Enough time had gone by for his obsession with Sally to have ended. But he did think about her occasionally, and Amanda’s excited revelation about the Marsh case had ripped the scab from a wound he thought had healed. Frank would call Sally Pope as promised, but he was not looking forward to seeing her again.
CHAPTER 23
Every morning, Amanda performed a routine of rigorous calisthenics, a remnant of her days as a competitive swimmer. The morning after her father briefed her on the Pope case, she was in the middle of a set of pushups when her phone rang. She powered through three more and grabbed the receiver on the fourth ring.
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