Fugitive

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.

“Thanks for waiting until six-thirty to call,” she said as soon as Martha Brice identified herself.

“I assumed you were an early riser,” Brice answered, oblivious to Amanda’s sarcasm.

“Mr. Marsh is in town,” Brice continued.

“Good. I want to meet with him as soon as possible.”

“The corporate jet will be in Portland tomorrow morning. Jennifer will call your office with the time.”

“Okay. Please keep him incommunicado until I tell you otherwise. No press conferences, no leaks. I’ll try to talk the district attorney into letting Mr. Marsh surrender at the bail hearing. But I know Karl Burdett pretty well. If he learns Marsh is in New York, he’ll do an end run and have the police arrest him.”

“Mr. Marsh will be sequestered until you say otherwise.” “Great. See you tomorrow.” AMANDA SHOWERED, ATE breakfast, and dressed in her most serious business suit before driving to Hillsboro. Karl Burdett’s office was in a modern addition to the courthouse that had been built after the Pope case was tried. Amanda had called ahead and Burdett’s secretary ushered her into his office as soon as she arrived. The decorations on the DA’s walls were clichés. There were the obligatory college and law school diplomas, the plaques from the Elks and the county bar, plus photo ops of Burdett with every politician he’d ever met above the rank of state legislator and any celebrity, regardless of rank. Amanda had seen the photographs before, but today her eye was drawn to one that pictured Burdett and Tony Rose in hunting gear, leaning on their rifles on either side of a six-point buck. Normally, she wouldn’t have given a thought to the picture. Tony Rose was a celebrity and a big contributor to Burdett’s party. But Rose was also a key witness against Sally Pope. Amanda certainly wasn’t surprised that Burdett was a hunter. The clues were the mounted animal heads that glared down at her from the office walls. The trophies didn’t bother her. Many Oregonians, including her father, were hunters. Frank had taken her with him when she was old enough to shoot a rifle. Amanda had never enjoyed killing deer, and had used the excuse of swim practice to beg off as soon as her distaste for hunting outweighed the joy she received from spending time with her father in Oregon’s spectacular forests. Karl Burdett was behind his desk, leaning back casually in his chair. He greeted Amanda and she turned from the wall decorations. At Sally Pope’s trial, the DA had been young, cocky, and recently elected to a post he saw as a launching pad to higher office. Had he sent Sally Pope to death row, Senior would have used all of his influence to make Burdett’s dreams come true. But Senior had conveniently ignored his own role in the Pope fiasco and blamed Burdett for Sally’s acquittal. Since the trial, Senior had kept Burdett in place so he could torment him, dangling a run for attorney general or Congress just out of reach. Burdett had not aged well. The thirty-two-year-old Karl Burdett had been trim and athletic, with a healthy complexion and a full head of sandy blond hair. The forty-four-year-old version was loose and sallow, with a thinning mane flecked with gray. If Senior unfairly blamed Burdett for losing Pope, Burdett saw Frank Jaffe as the root of all the setbacks that had followed his defeat. Frank’s daughter was a reminder of his humiliation, and his welcoming smile was as phony as his hearty greeting. “To what do I owe this visit, Amanda? You were very mysterious on the phone.” “I have an early Christmas present for you, Karl.” “Oh?” “Charlie Marsh wants to return to Oregon to face the charges against him.” Amanda could see it was taking all of the DA’s self-control to keep from bolting upright. Instead he eased forward. “How do you know that?” Burdett asked, unable to keep a slight tremor from his voice. “I’m his lawyer.” “Where is he?” Burdett demanded. “I can’t tell you.” “He’s a fugitive. You have to tell me where he is.” “Actually I don’t if I learned his whereabouts in an attorney-client confidence, but we don’t have to get into a pissing contest. Charlie wants to return to Oregon and you want him back. If you promise to let him surrender at a bail hearing, he’ll be in Oregon in no time flat.” Burdett hated letting a Jaffe call the shots but he knew that he could get back in Senior’s good graces and salvage his career if he convicted Charlie Marsh. “What do you have to lose?” Amanda pushed. “If I tell Mr. Marsh you’re going to throw him in jail as soon as he sets foot in Oregon he may change his mind about turning himself in. And he’ll be in custody if the judge denies bail.” “You’re right. I’ll agree to a voluntary surrender. When are we talking about?” “I don’t know yet, but it will be soon. I’ll call you this week to set a date for the hearing.” “Good, good,” Burdett said. “I’ll look forward to hearing from you.” I bet you will, Amanda thought as she shook hands and headed out the door.

CHAPTER 24

Karl Burdett had gotten used to the power and prestige that the office of district attorney bestowed. While he would never admit it, subconsciously he knew that he was not talented enough to succeed in private practice and he dreaded the thought of scrambling to make a living at his age. That was why he needed Senior’s approval and support almost as much as he needed air.

Minutes after Amanda left his office, Burdett was in his car, headed for the Pope estate to deliver the news of Charlie’s return. He was almost there when Tony Rose sped by in a silver-gray Ferrari F43. Burdett was not surprised that Rose was visiting Senior. The tennis pro had been fired by the Westmont soon after Sally Pope’s trial. Less than a year later, he’d founded Mercury Enterprises, which had started small, manufacturing tennis equipment, and had grown rapidly when American wunderkind Gary Posner won the U.S. Open playing with a Mercury racket. The sports world was shocked when Posner signed an exclusive contract with Mercury instead of Nike or another monster sporting-goods firm. The terms were never made public but the rumors put Posner’s endorsement fee in the neighborhood of Tiger Woods’s. The source of Mercury’s funding was a tightly held secret but speculation ran wild that Arnold Pope Sr. was Rose’s secret backer and the money was Rose’s payoff for perjuring himself at Sally Pope’s trial. If so, the money was well spent, because Mercury’s stock and profits had risen as swiftly as Posner served. The firm now successfully sold hunting, fishing, golf, and basketball equipment and it had a line of clothing and foot gear. The face of Mercury was the handsome Tony Rose, but Burdett was certain that the brains and the money behind the company was Arnold Pope.

“WHAT’S THIS ABOUT Marsh?” Arnold Pope asked as soon as Burdett walked into his home office.

“He’s coming back to stand trial. He’ll probably be here within the week.”

“How do you know that?”

Senior’s excitement increased as Burdett recounted Amanda Jaffe’s visit.

“Bring me a copy of the case file,” Senior said as soon as Burdett was through.

“It’s big. It might…”

“I know it’s big. Copy it and have it here by tomorrow. And keep me up to date on every single development, no matter how small.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And Karl.”

“Yes, sir.”

“In life it is rare to get a second chance. Now you have one.”

“I’ll do my best.”

“No, Karl, you will not simply do your best.” Senior locked eyes with Burdett. “Either you or Marsh will be totally destroyed by the end of this case. You decide who will be buried.”

Before Burdett was out of the room, Senior had swiveled his chair so he was staring through his window at Mount Hood, but it was not the majestic, snow-covered giant he was seeing. In his imagination, he saw Charlie Marsh sweating out his time on death row as each second brought him closer to a lethal injection. Then he thought about Amanda Jaffe. She was very good. Could she achieve what her father had accomplished? Funny things happened to rock-solid cases when a clever lawyer got in front of a jury. Look at the O. J. Simpson case. An idiot should have been able to convict him but he walked.

Senior had attempted to have Marsh killed shortly after he was granted asylum in Batanga, but the mercenary he’d hired had backed out of the contract. President Baptiste made a lot of money portraying Batanga as a safe haven for the most wanted. It only took a little research for the would-be assassin to learn the fate of those who attempted to end the lives of the fugitives whose safety the president guaranteed. The killers who were caught in-country met a fate too grisly to describe. A Dutchman who had murdered one of Baptiste’s guests had been pursued relentlessly by agents of the National Education Bureau. When they caught him, he earned a PhD in torture before his body parts were scattered around the tourist attractions of Amsterdam, guaranteeing that Baptiste’s message would be communicated worldwide. Try as he might, Senior could find no one who would risk Baptiste’s wrath. Now it appeared that his quarry was coming to him.

Senior pushed himself to his feet. At seventy, his joints were stiffening and his back had tightened up. Walking was a chore but he didn’t let anyone see his discomfort, because he never showed weakness. After completing the laborious climb to the second floor, he worked his way slowly and painfully to the room at the far end of the corridor, where Junior had spent his boyhood. Now it was a shrine. The shades were always down in this room and the ceiling fixture was coated with dust. When he flipped the switch, muted light cast a yellowish glow over the pictures on the walls and the trophies, medals, and mementos that filled the shelves. Across the room was a bed whose sheets never needed to be changed.

Senior sat on the bed and stared at a picture of Junior with the first President Bush. Senior was a good friend of the ex-president, who had spoken on Junior’s behalf at a fund-raiser during his son’s first congressional campaign. Other notable politicians had helped his boy get to Congress. They knew he was the future and they flocked to embrace him. Senior, who almost never cried, felt tears well up as he thought about what might have been had Junior not been cut down in the prime of his life by that…He took deep breaths until he was back in control of his emotions.

Pope shifted his attention to another photograph, Junior in his dress uniform shortly before his discharge from the Marines. If ever there was a man who looked like he should be president of this great country, it was Arnold Pope Jr.

Next to the picture of his son in his dress uniform was a picture of Junior holding a child in his hand as he would a football. It had been taken when Arnold Pope III was two weeks old. That bitch had named Junior’s boy Kevin out of spite, but his grandson would always be Arnold III to Senior. Just thinking of his only grandchild made Senior’s fists clench. Junior’s whore had kept Senior away from his grandson with restraining orders and by putting the Atlantic Ocean between them, but he had photographs and videos taken surreptitiously through telescopic lenses. What he did not have was his grandson, the future of the Pope clan and the last of his bloodline.

Junior was dead. Senior faced that fact every day. His boy had been a candle whose light would have guided America to a radiant new day of decency and honor. Charlie Marsh and the whore had snuffed out that candle and they would pay. Senior knew that he could never get his son back, but he could get revenge.

CHAPTER 25

Herb Cross’s wife was a CPA in the Portland branch of a national accounting firm. When she was promoted to a position in the firm’s national headquarters in Atlanta, Herb regretfully resigned. The regret went both ways. After Herb left, Frank used several investigators but none of them had been satisfactory. Then Amanda told Frank about Kate Ross.

Kate had a degree in computer science from Caltech and had been recruited by the Portland Police Bureau to investigate computer crime. After a few years of pounding a keyboard for a living, Kate had asked for a transfer. While working in Vice and Narcotics, she was involved in a shoot-out at a shopping mall that had left civilians and an informant dead. The Bureau had made Kate the department’s scapegoat and she’d been driven off the force.

Kate’s computer skills and police background helped her secure a job as an investigator at Oregon’s largest law firm. When Daniel Ames, a first-year associate at the firm, was charged with murder, Kate asked Amanda to represent him. After the two women cleared Daniel’s name, Jaffe, Katz hired Kate as the firm’s investigator and Daniel as an associate, and Kate and Daniel started living together.

Kate was five seven, with a dark complexion, large brown eyes, and long, curly black hair that made her look faintly Middle Eastern. She usually dressed in jeans and man-tailored shirts that showed off her athletic figure. When Amanda returned from her meeting with Karl Burdett, she poked her head into Kate’s office. The investigator had her feet up on her desk and was immersed in a police report.

“How would you like to work on the case of the century?” Amanda asked casually.

Kate looked up, her expression blank. “I’ve gotta pass, Amanda.” She held up her police report. “I’ve pledged my life to helping a dipsomaniac insurance executive avoid conviction for his fourth DUI and I won’t rest until he’s back on the highway endangering the lives of all of Oregon’s citizens.”

“Gee, I hate to interfere with your mission, but I’m going to pull rank and insist you give my case priority.”

“Okay, if you insist. But you’ve got to square it with Ernie. This guy is repeat business and he refers a lot of his alcoholic buddies to the firm.”

“I’ll talk to him.”

Kate put her feet on the floor and swiveled her chair in Amanda’s direction. “So, what’s this big case you want me to work on?”

Amanda told the investigator about her meeting at the airport with Martha Brice and the editor’s recent phone call. Kate knew about Charlie Marsh because of his book, but she only had vague memories of Sally Pope’s trial, so Amanda brought her up to speed on the old case.

“I’m flying to New York tomorrow morning to meet with Marsh,” Amanda said. “While I’m gone I’d like you to go through the file and start organizing it for trial. Burdett indicted Sally Pope on a conspiracy theory, so, to get a conviction, he had to prove that Marsh murdered Congressman Pope. That means he’ll be presenting many of the same witnesses he used in Pope’s trial. See if you can have a trial book ready by the time I get back.”

AS SOON AS Kate finished her work in the drunk-driving case, she carried a mug of coffee and her laptop into the conference room. She sighed when she saw the mass of materials piled high on the long table. Then she booted up her laptop and went to work.

Kate spent the first few hours typing a synopsis of the police, lab, and autopsy reports, witness statements, and trial testimony into her computer. Then she organized the digested materials into categories. When she was through, she went back to the reports and made a list of those that dealt with different time periods or subjects.

One category had to do with testimony concerning the murder weapon. The initial mention of the ivory-handled.357 Magnum was in a statement by Mickey Keys, who said he’d first seen the gun in Texas when Charlie was given the weapon as a gift. He told the police that Charlie played with the gun in his hotel room but never took it out, because he was on parole. The literary agent said that Delmar Epps, Charlie’s bodyguard, got a kick out of toting the weapon in public when he was guarding Charlie. Keys remembered seeing Epps with the gun in the limo on the way to the Westmont.

In Tony Rose’s report of his run-in with Charlie at the Dunthorpe seminar, Rose told the police that Epps had flashed the gun when the bodyguard was manhandling him. He remembered it because of the fancy grip.

When Kate put Rose’s report on top of a stack of items that were pertinent to the Dunthorpe seminar, a photograph caught her attention. She pulled it out of the center of the pile and studied it. The photo showed Charlie and his entourage as they were about to enter the mansion in Dunthorpe. Kate was glad she’d found it, because it put a face to the people about whom she’d been reading.

Charlie sported a great tan and looked like a poor man’s John Travolta circa Saturday Night Fever in his white jacket, white slacks, and black silk shirt. Gold chains graced his neck and a gold Rolex encircled his wrist. His smile was warm and he appeared to be relaxed and in control. Standing to Charlie’s right was a grinning Mickey Keys. Keys wore a navy blue blazer, tan slacks, and an open-necked, emerald green sports shirt that went perfectly with his styled red hair.

Slightly behind Charlie was a massive black man with a shaved head, who Kate assumed was Delmar Epps. On Charlie’s left was a young woman who was looking up at Charlie with adoring eyes. Several things about her were odd. Her head was as devoid of hair as the guru’s bodyguard’s, and while everyone else in Charlie’s entourage was dressed in expensive, stylish togs, the girl was wearing a peasant dress and blouse. To Kate’s eye, the woman seemed out of place, like a gypsy who had wandered into a night club full of partying movie stars.

A thought occurred to Kate. Epps had testified that he’d left the.357 Magnum in the limo when he’d gotten out at the entrance to the Westmont on the night of the shooting, but no one had corroborated that assertion. What if Epps did have the gun when he left the limo but lied so no one would think he fired the fatal shot? If Epps was carrying the revolver when he left the limo, how could Marsh have gotten it?

Kate studied a photograph of the weapon. Then she went on the Internet and discovered that the Ruger weighed over two pounds. The gun also had a six-inch barrel, so it would be a bit unwieldy. Epps had been fighting with the security guards shortly before the fatal shot was fired. Kate remembered a witness testifying that Epps had knocked down a guard with a karate kick to the head. All that jumping around could have dislodged the gun if the heavy, cumbersome weapon was stuck in Epps’s waistband, and anyone in the crowd around the combatants could have picked it up.

Kate found a few photographs that showed both the area on the side of the turnaround where Epps had been fighting and the area between the turnaround and the pro shop where their client had been standing. There wasn’t that much space between the two positions. If the gun had dropped out and had been kicked back toward Marsh, he could have rushed forward and gotten it.

Kate tried to remember who had been with Marsh. Werner Rollins had testified that he’d joined Marsh and Gary Hass after he’d decked the guard with whom he’d been fighting. Epps said that he had moved back so he could protect Marsh. Rollins had testified that he saw Marsh fire the shot that killed Arnold Pope Jr.

If Epps and Rollins had lied to the police so they could cut deals, any of the other men standing with Marsh could have fired the shot.

CHAPTER 26

Amanda had returned to New York a few times since graduating from law school at NYU, and she had mixed feelings about the city. Manhattan was a wonderful place to visit. It had the best restaurants, great shopping, terrific museums, cutting-edge art, the theater, and a buzz in the air that let you know that big things were happening. But you didn’t go to the theater or eat at a four-star restaurant every night when you lived in the city. At heart, Amanda was an Oregon girl. After the initial excitement of a visit wore off, she would miss Portland with its easygoing pace, snow-capped mountains, and gentle, green hills. This, however, was her first day in New York in some time, and she found herself intrigued by the bustling crowds and longing for a real pastrami sandwich when the limo that had picked her up at the airport whisked her past the Carnegie Deli on the way to her meeting with her client.

World News was hiding Charlie Marsh in a corporate condo near Columbus Circle. The driver phoned ahead to alert Dennis Levy that Amanda was on her way. As she rode up in the elevator, Amanda wondered if the real Charlie Marsh would be anything like the Charlie Marsh of her imagination: a swashbuckling bandit who had dramatically cast away his penchant for violence so he could bring enlightenment to mankind. Many people who had been won over by his vivid transformation from evildoer to saint never believed he was guilty of the congressman’s murder. Amanda had been enthralled by his autobiography, but she’d learned enough about the failings of career criminals from her father to maintain a healthy skepticism about the guru’s claims.

The door to the World News condo opened as soon as Amanda knocked. A skinny kid, who looked like he was barely out of adolescence, peeked through a gap in the door and anxiously scanned the corridor beyond Amanda’s shoulder as if he was expecting a SWAT team to charge in behind her.

“Miss Jaffe?” he asked nervously.

Amanda nodded. “And you must be Dennis Levy.”

“Come on in,” Levy said, stepping back enough so Amanda could slip sideways into a large living room with an amazing view of Central Park. Several locks snapped shut behind her. A moment later, Amanda felt the freezing cold air that was blowing through the apartment like a hurricane.

“What’s with the air-conditioning?” she asked Levy as she fought an impulse to wrap her arms across her chest.

The reporter, who was bundled up in a heavy sweater, jerked his head toward a slender, blond-haired man in a dark blue warm-up suit, who was perched on the edge of a sofa, channel-surfing on a huge flat-screen TV.

“He says he hates heat and anything else that reminds him of Africa.”

Amanda’s idea of what Marsh would look like was based on his author photo on the back of The Light Within You and dim memories of the fugitive on television shows. Marsh looked nothing like the confident, dynamic spokesman for self-awareness she remembered. He was emaciated and his skin had the leathery look common to people who spend too much time in the sun with too little sun block.

“Charlie, your lawyer’s here,” Levy said.

When Marsh heard his name, his head swiveled toward Amanda but his body and the remote stayed pointed at the television.

“I can’t get over all these channels,” Charlie said. “Did you know you can get porn in your own home for free in high definition?”

“Yes, Mr. Marsh, I’m well aware of that,” Amanda said, smiling involuntarily. Her client’s wide-eyed awe reminded her that he had been in exile for twelve years.

Marsh turned off the set and stood up. “How come I didn’t get your father?”

Amanda took no offense. “He represented Mrs. Pope, your codefendant. It would be a conflict of interest if he represented you, too.”

Marsh inspected Amanda. “You look young. Do you have enough experience to handle a case this big?”

“Do you think a major publication like World News, with all its resources, would ask me to represent you if they didn’t think I was up to the job?” she answered calmly.

“Yeah, point taken. But you can consult with your father, right? I mean, he can be involved in the case even if he can’t be my lawyer?”

“I always consult with my father when I have a complex case. And he consults with me when he has one. So you don’t have to worry. You’ll be getting two lawyers for the price of one.”

“Okay. Just checking. Don’t get upset. It’s my life on the line here.”

“I’m well aware of that. Look, Mr. Marsh, you’re the client and what you say goes. If you aren’t comfortable with me as your attorney you’re perfectly free to hire someone else.”

“No, no, that’s okay. I’m sure you’re good. I was just hoping I could get your dad because he got Sally off. But you’re okay, too.”

“Now that that’s out of the way, there’s a lot to discuss, so we should get started. Where’s a good place to talk?”

“We can do it right here,” Dennis Levy said. Amanda heard the eagerness in his voice and decided that she couldn’t put off setting guidelines for the reporter.

“Mr. Levy, it won’t be possible for you to sit in on my conferences with Mr. Marsh.”

“Hey, you don’t have to worry, I’m on Charlie’s side. And don’t forget, the more authentic the book I’m writing, the better it will sell, so everyone benefits.”

“That may be, but Mr. Marsh will lose the right to assert his attorney-client privilege if a third person is present during our conversations. That means the DA can compel you to tell a jury everything Mr. Marsh thought he was telling me in confidence. I can’t permit that.”

“You don’t understand. This is going to be a huge story. We’re talking prizewinning journalism here. And you’re going to get more publicity from this than you can handle, so why don’t you cut me a little slack?” Levy smiled conspiratorially. “Who’ll know what went on in this apartment if no one talks?”

“I’d know,” Amanda said, “and I wouldn’t lie if I was asked whether you sat in on our conferences. You’re a reporter. I understand your desire to cover a story like this, but Mr. Marsh’s life is at stake, and I won’t do anything to jeopardize it. You may not be present while we talk. Is that understood?”

Levy’s face had turned bright red during her lecture.

“Okay, okay, but will you talk to me about things that don’t jeopardize the case?”

“Of course, and I’ll try to keep you in the loop as much as possible,” she said, to mollify Levy, “but Mr. Marsh is my priority.”

“Hey, Dennis,” Marsh interjected, “can you do me a favor?”

“Sure, Charlie,” Levy said, eager to please his meal ticket.

“I’m starving. Can you run out and get me a cheeseburger with bacon? I haven’t had a good burger in twelve years.”

Levy looked upset at being cast in the role of errand boy but he held his tongue.

“And fries. I want fries and a Coke.”

“Okay,” Levy said grudgingly.

“How about you, Amanda?” Charlie asked. “Is it okay if I call you Amanda?”

“Sure.”

“Then you can call me Charlie. So, how about it? Are you hungry?”

“I’ve been craving a hot pastrami sandwich on rye ever since I drove by the Carnegie Deli.”

“Done. You got that order, Dennis?”

“LEVY’S A REAL pain in the ass,” Charlie said as soon as the front door closed behind the reporter.

“He’s just excited about his story.”

Marsh cocked an eyebrow. “You haven’t been trapped with him twenty-four-seven for the past few days.”

“Point taken,” Amanda said as she walked over to a table that stood next to one of the picture windows overlooking the park. Marsh took a seat on one side and Amanda took a pen and a legal pad out of her attaché case.

“So, what’s going to happen to me when I land in Oregon?” Marsh asked. He was trying to act cool but his body language told Amanda a different story.

“I’ve cut a deal with Karl Burdett, the DA.”

“Didn’t he prosecute Sally?”

Amanda nodded. “And he’s still the DA. Karl has promised me he won’t arrest you when you land. You’ll be able to surrender voluntarily at the bail hearing.”

“Okay, that’s good. And I’ve got the dough to post bail.”

“There isn’t an automatic right to bail in a murder case, Charlie. The judge can order you held without bail if Burdett convinces him that there’s very good evidence that you murdered Congressman Pope.”

“But I didn’t. I’m innocent.”

“Then why did you run?”

“Delmar grabbed me as soon as the shooting started and dragged me to the limo. He was doing his bodyguard thing. We peeled out and he started driving all over the place to lose anyone who was pursuing us. When we finally stopped we were miles away from the country club and I’d had time to think. I’m an ex-con; Pope hit me because I was screwing his wife; and I ran from the scene of the crime. How’s that going to look? Guilty, guilty, guilty was the only answer I could come up with. I was certain I’d be the fall guy if I turned myself in, especially after they arrested Sally. So I went to Canada, got myself some false ID, and took a tramp steamer to Batanga. The rest is history.”

“I’m curious, Charlie. You know you’re facing the death penalty, right?”

Marsh nodded.

“Then why did you come back? You were safe in Batanga.”

Marsh laughed. “Amanda, I’d be safer strapped into an electric chair than I was in that mosquito-infested hellhole.”

“Why don’t you explain that to me?”

“If you don’t mind, I’d rather not.”

“I get that you had a bad experience over there…”

Marsh snorted. “You don’t know the half of it.”

“It could be important for the bail hearing. You fled the country once and Burdett will argue that’s evidence that you’ll be a flight risk if the judge sets bail.”

“Believe me, I am never going back to Africa; not ever. You won’t even catch me watching a Tarzan movie.”

“The judge isn’t going to take your word that you won’t flee, without an explanation.”

Marsh spaced out and Amanda let him think. When he looked at her, his jaw was set.

“I’m going to do this just once, so take good notes and never ask me about Batanga again. But, before I tell you about Batanga, I have something I need you to do for me.”

“What’s that?”

“I brought something with me from Batanga that I want you to hold for me. When we get to Oregon I want you to put it in a safety-deposit box.”

Amanda frowned. “What exactly is this thing?”

“I can’t tell you.”

“We’re not talking drugs here, are we?”

“No. You won’t be breaking any laws, but you will be doing something important for a lot of innocent people. I can’t say any more. Will you do it?”

Amanda hesitated. She needed to gain Marsh’s trust if she was going to be an effective advocate for him. On the other hand, she wasn’t going to aid and abet a criminal enterprise.

“You swear you’re not asking me to commit a crime?” she asked, knowing full well how ridiculous it was to ask that question of a criminal who had earned his living as a con man.

“Yes.”

“All right. Give me the item.”

Charlie went into his bedroom and returned shortly with a box wrapped in brown paper and bound with twine. Amanda put it into her large handbag.

“You ready to talk about Africa?” she asked when the box was out of sight.

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.”

“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.”

“I appreciate that. Maybe I can help you. I’ve just been through the file, so a lot of this is fresh for me. There was a report that contained the statement Sally Pope gave to the police on the evening of the shooting. She says that you tried to talk to her just as the limo with Marsh and his entourage drove up.”

Rose shrugged. “If she said that happened I won’t deny it.”

“Why did you want to talk to her? I would have thought you wouldn’t want to go anywhere near her after she tried to get you to kill the congressman.”

“I honestly don’t remember talking to her, so I can’t help you. Now, will you tell me something?”

“If I can,” Kate said.

“What’s the deal with Marsh? Why is he coming back after all these years? I thought he was safe and sound in…What’s the name of the country where he was hiding out?”

“Batanga. And I really don’t know why he decided to return.”

“Maybe it got to be too much for him,” Rose mused. “It happens. You read about these sixties radicals that have been underground for years and they’re married and have kids and they get an attack of conscience and turn themselves in.”

“Could be,” Kate said. “I really don’t know. Getting back to the case, do you still maintain that Sally Pope asked you to kill her husband?”

“That’s what happened.”

“You’re certain about that?”

Rose laughed. “I may not remember some things about that time but you don’t forget a person asking you to murder someone.”

“And that was in Dunthorpe at the seminar?”

“Right.”

“Okay, back to the Westmont. When you were walking to your car, did you notice Mr. Marsh?”

“I may have, but I don’t recall.”

“How do you feel about Marsh, personally?”

“What do you mean?”

“He did break your nose after the seminar in Dunthorpe.”

Rose laughed. “He didn’t break it, he just bloodied it, and that’s water under the bridge.” Rose swung his hand out in an expansive gesture. “Look around you. You may have noticed that I’ve got a lot on my plate. As far as I’m concerned, that business with Sally and the guru is light-years away. When you see him tomorrow, you tell him I’m not holding any grudges.”

“Fair enough.” Kate stood up. “Thanks for seeing me. I know you’re busy, and I appreciate it.”

Rose also stood up. “No problem,” he said as he walked Kate to the door. She handed him her card.

“If you think of anything, give me a call.”

Rose studied the card. “Sure thing,” he said. “Allison will take you down.”

On her way back to her car, Kate rewound the interview in her mind and concluded that she hadn’t learned a thing. But something Rose had said nagged at her during the trip back to the office. Only she couldn’t figure out what it was.

CHAPTER 29

Amanda stepped out of the hatch of the Gulfstream G550 and shaded her eyes from the sun. As soon as they adjusted to the glare, Amanda spotted TV vans, a mob of reporters, and Karl Burdett and two policemen standing outside the rear door of the FBO. Amanda stared at Burdett for a second, then turned around and glared at Dennis Levy.

“What are they doing here?”

“We have to start selling Charlie’s side of the story if we want to get the public on our side,” Levy explained as if his betrayal was the only reasonable course of action.

Amanda shoved Levy back into the interior of the plane, forcing Charlie to take a few steps back.

“You idiot. Did it ever enter that thick skull of yours that one of the reporters might call the district attorney to get his take on the return of Oregon’s most wanted fugitive?”

“The DA?”

“Yes, Dennis. He’s the gentleman standing with the two policemen. Burdett’s probably here to arrest Charlie because he thinks I double-crossed him by calling a press conference to get our side in front of the public before he could.”

“I…It never…” Levy stuttered.

“If you pull something like this again I will have you on the next plane back to New York.”

“I don’t work for you,” Levy answered belligerently.

“That is correct. You work for World News. I work for Charlie Marsh and I don’t work for World News. If you go behind my back one more time I will advise Charlie to give Newsweek exclusive access to his story.”

Levy paled. “Look, don’t do anything rash. I just thought the publicity would put Charlie in a good light.”

“I don’t try my cases in the press, Dennis. I try them in court. And I know exactly why you stage-managed this media circus. You want to sell copies of World News and promote your book, so don’t go all Mother Teresa on me about how you called the media to help Charlie.”

“No, no, I really wanted to help Charlie. I mean I know this will help me too, but that wasn’t my main motivation.”

Amanda decided not to waste any more energy on Levy. She looked over his shoulder at her client.

“Not a word when the cameras start rolling, understood? If we’re lucky I’ll be able to talk Burdett out of arresting you.”

“I’m not talking to anyone,” Charlie assured her. “The DA can use anything I say to the press against me.”

Amanda stared angrily at Levy. “At least one of you was listening. Now, I’m going to lead us off. You two stay behind me and I’ll try to keep Charlie out of jail.”

The crowd had surged forward the first time Amanda stepped out of the plane, and they were waiting at the bottom of the stairs that connected the private jet to the tarmac. Amanda paused halfway down so she was above the reporters.

“Good morning. I’m Amanda Jaffe, Charlie Marsh’s attorney. I’m glad to see District Attorney Burdett here. I want to thank him for agreeing to let Mr. Marsh voluntarily surrender tomorrow at his bail hearing when he could have taken him into custody today. It’s always a pleasure when the defense and the prosecution can operate on a handshake.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Amanda saw Burdett’s face turn the color of severe sunburn.

“Why has Mr. Marsh waited twelve years to turn himself in?” a reporter called out.

“We’re all exhausted from our plane ride and we won’t be making any statements right now. I can say on Mr. Marsh’s behalf that he’s excited to be back in America and he is eager to have his day in court.”

“Why did he flee the country, Amanda?” another reporter shouted.

“This venue is an inappropriate place to try Mr. Marsh’s case. The district attorney and I will both be in court and we’ll have our say there. Thank you for being understanding.”

With that, Amanda led her brood down the rest of the stairs. Karl Burdett stepped in front of her.

“I had nothing to do with this, Karl,” Amanda said before he could get a word out. She threw a thumb over her shoulder. “That’s Dennis Levy. He’s a reporter for World News. He called the press without my knowledge.”

Burdett was furious but he knew he couldn’t arrest Charlie without looking bad. Amanda started walking, and Burdett hurried to stay by her side.

“Your client dodged a bullet today, Jaffe. You’d better not try anything like this again.”

“I’m as upset as you are, Karl.”

Amanda pushed through the shouting reporters, who obviously had not taken seriously her statement about not answering questions. Several of them followed her into the terminal. Amanda spotted Kate waiting at the front door. As soon as the investigator saw her boss, she left the terminal and started the car that she’d parked in front.

“I’ll see you at the bail hearing, tomorrow,” Amanda told Burdett as she left the terminal. “Thanks again for not arresting Marsh.”

Amanda held the rear door of Kate’s car open for Charlie and Dennis, then jumped in the front passenger seat. The reporters were still shouting questions when they drove away. As soon as she was out of camera range, Amanda leaned back against the headrest and exhaled.

CHAPTER 30

Gary Hass sat on a metal folding chair and looked out the window of the abandoned loft at the Space Needle as he waited for Ivan Mikhailov to revive. It was a beautiful summer night, and the illuminated Seattle landmark stood out against the starry sky, but Gary was not thinking about the beauty of the moment. He was daydreaming about the carnage that would result if the Space Needle were toppled by a set of carefully placed explosives.

The Russian drug dealer groaned. Gary sighed, displeased that his reverie had been interrupted. Mikhailov was naked and secured to an uncomfortable wooden chair by duct tape in such a way that all of the places where Gary might wish to inflict pain were exposed. Gary waited patiently as Mikhailov became conscious and slowly figured out his predicament.

“Good evening,” Gary said. “How are you feeling?”

Mikhailov stared stupidly for a moment before his features hardened into an icy stare.

“Do you know who I am?” he asked in a voice that would have turned Gary’s blood cold if their positions had been reversed but which he found merely amusing considering that the Russian was naked and helpless.

“You’re Bob Smith of Omaha, Nebraska, aren’t you?”

Mikhailov gaped at Gary. Then he shouted, “No, you idiot. I am Ivan Mikhailov and you will set me free immediately or I will have you cut into pieces and fed to my dogs.”

“Oh, shit,” Gary said. “I’m sorry, sir. I thought you were Bob Smith of Omaha. Man, did I fuck up.”

“Yes, you did, but you can save yourself by setting me loose at once,” Mikhailov said imperiously.

Gary grinned. “Actually, Ivan, I’m just playing with you. I knew who you were when I killed your men and Tasered you in the parking garage. You’re Ivan the Terrible, the violent drug dealer who’s been poaching on Julio Dominguez’s territory and beating up his dealers. Do I have that right?”

“You won’t think you’re so funny when I skin you alive.”

“Will that be before or after you feed me to your dogs?”

The Russian began struggling against his bonds. Gary watched for a moment before walking over to his captive and slapping him across the face several times. The slaps only stung Mikhailov but they were humiliating, and the ease with which the strikes were delivered emphasized his helplessness.

“Stop that, Ivan. It’s unbecoming. Besides, you can’t pay attention to what I have to say if you’re twitching and jumping up and down.”

“Do you want money?”

“Well, duh, who doesn’t? But if you’re thinking ransom or a bribe, that’s not on my mind. Julio already paid me.”

“I’ll double what he gave you.”

“I’m sure you would, but I wouldn’t be able to torture you if I took your bribe, and I’m in this as much for the fun as for the money. I mean, if you don’t enjoy your work you should find some other type of employment, right?”

Gary watched the Russian’s face. The sweat that suddenly dampened his captive’s brow and the way his pupils were snapping back and forth, as if searching for a way out, let Gary know that Mikhailov finally got it.

“See, Ivan, you’re affecting Julio’s profits and we can’t have that. Before you appeared on the scene, Julio had a nice thing going. He’s got a supplier in Colombia who’s happy with him, a snazzy house, and plenty of pussy, not to mention the biggest television set I’ve ever seen. If you still had eyes when I finished with you I’d take you over to watch a game. Anyway, Julio wants me to make sure he doesn’t have to cancel HBO because your shenanigans are eating into his bottom line.”

Gary walked behind Mikhailov and wrapped tape around his mouth. That was when the Russian started to scream, but the muffled cries were barely audible.

“That’s why I gagged you, Ivan,” Gary said. “I knew you’d wake the neighbors, and unlike you, I am very considerate of other people.”

GARY GREW TIRED of playing with the Russian after a few hours. The so-called tough guy hadn’t been so tough after all and had ceased to be a challenge during the preliminaries. Gary would have killed him to stop his whimpering but Julio wanted his rival to suffer, so he’d plugged away, not really enjoying himself but earning his pay.

After tidying up, Gary made an anonymous 911 call to the police. Julio wanted the murder publicized so no one else would try to move into his territory, and he couldn’t scare anyone if no one knew what happened to Ivan.

Gary was tired and not particularly satisfied with the evening when he locked the door of his seedy hotel room. The paint was peeling, the mattress sagged, the only window looked out on an air shaft, and the porcelain on the sink was chipped. The room was depressing but it was in a hotel where no one noticed anything, and he would be gone by morning.

After showering in the narrow bathroom, he turned on the television to see if the media knew about his handiwork yet. Gary was fully awake within seconds of seeing the lead story on the late news. Charlie Marsh was back in the US of A only a few hours from Seattle down the I-5. The same Charlie Marsh who had skipped out without paying Gary for the use of his life and who’d been sunbathing on some African beach, sipping piña coladas, while Gary was compelled to scratch out a living getting rid of other people’s problems.

Gary walked over to the window and stared down the shaft at the years of accumulated trash. He had no trouble imagining Charlie’s broken body rotting down there.

CHAPTER 31

Kate drove Dennis Levy to the bail hearing so Amanda could discuss the case with Charlie, but Charlie didn’t feel like talking during the ride to the Washington County courthouse. He spent most of the time staring at the scenery with the window rolled down, even though Amanda’s car had air-conditioning. The wind on his face and the smell of fresh air were physical manifestations of the freedom that could be snatched from him later that morning if Amanda couldn’t convince the judge to grant him bail. Between his prison stretch and the psychological prison he’d inhabited in Africa, Charlie realized that he’d enjoyed very little real freedom in the past fifteen years. It made him wonder about the life he’d led.

Amanda worried about fighting her way through the crowd of reporters at the courthouse, but Karl Burdett unintentionally created a diversion by pontificating to the press at the front entrance. That made it easy for Amanda to smuggle Charlie through a little-used side entrance. She could have been angry at the DA for using the media to bias the jury pool, but she couldn’t feel too self-righteous after yesterday’s fiasco at the airport.

Amanda threw curt “no comments” at the reporters who were camped outside the courtroom door as she hustled her client to the relative sanctuary of their counsel table. Charlie had his head down, so he didn’t see the slender African man in the back row of the spectator benches until he turned to watch Karl Burdett and a female district attorney push through the courtroom doors. Charlie experienced a violent urge to rush to the restroom the second he made eye contact with Nathan Tuazama. Then Burdett and his assistant passed between the two men. Charlie turned away quickly and shivered.

“Are you okay?” Amanda asked when she saw Charlie’s ash gray complexion.

“I’m just nervous,” Charlie lied as he imagined Tuazama’s eyes boring through his back into his soul.

“Good morning, Karl,” Amanda said as Burdett tossed his attaché case onto the prosecution table.

Burdett nodded but didn’t return her greeting. Then he turned his back on Amanda and began organizing his papers. Amanda wondered why the DA looked tense when he had the edge at the bail hearing. Before she could puzzle out the problem, the bailiff rapped his gavel and the Honorable Marshall Berkowitz hurried out of chambers to take the bench. The judge, who was short and grossly overweight, wheezed as he waddled to his position on the dais.

“Good morning,” he said with a friendly nod to both parties. If Judge Berkowitz was intimidated by the large contingent of reporters in his courtroom and the publicity his case was receiving, he didn’t show it.

“Good morning, Your Honor,” Burdett said as he rose to address the court. “This is the time set for the bail hearing in State v. Charles Lee Marsh aka the Guru Gabriel Sun. Let the record show that the state is represented by Karl Burdett and Rebecca Cromartie. The defendant is present, represented by his attorney, Amanda Jaffe.”

“Good morning, Your Honor,” Amanda said. “As a preliminary matter, I’d ask the court to strike Mr. Marsh’s aka. He took that name years ago to promote his book and seminars and he hasn’t used it in over a decade.”

“It’s how people know him, Judge,” Burdett countered. “We’ll have witnesses referring to him as Gabriel Sun or the guru. Besides, Miss Jaffe hasn’t given me notice so I’m not prepared to argue this issue, this morning.”

“I’m inclined to agree with Mr. Burdett,” the judge told Amanda, “but you can file a motion with some law if you’re concerned.”

Amanda wasn’t really concerned about the relatively benign aka in the indictment. What did worry her was the possibility that any juror who remembered Charlie’s alias would also remember that the tabloids had started calling her client Satan’s Guru as soon as he was accused of murder. But she decided to fight that battle another day.

“Let’s get to the matter of bail,” the judge said.

“I think I can save the court some time,” Burdett answered before Amanda could get a word out. “If Mr. Marsh surrenders his passport, the state will not oppose bail in light of his voluntary return to face trial.”

Amanda was shocked by Burdett’s concession but she was also surprised by his tone. The DA sounded like he regretted giving Charlie a break. If he felt that way, why was he agreeing to bail?

“That seems to take care of your motion, Miss Jaffe,” Judge Berkowitz said.

“It does, and I want to thank Mr. Burdett for being so reasonable.”

Burdett didn’t respond to Amanda. Instead, he told the judge that Charlie would have to be booked into the jail so he could be fingerprinted and have a mug shot taken. Then the DA suggested a bail amount that was well within Charlie’s means. Amanda agreed to the sum quickly and the judge told his clerk to prepare the paperwork. As soon as Amanda and Burdett agreed on a trial date, the DA and his assistant left the courtroom, followed by a pack of reporters.

“Am I free?” Charlie asked, unsure of what had just happened.

“As soon as we post bail.”

Charlie grinned. Then the grin faded as he remembered Nathan Tuazama. He scanned the crowd but the African was no longer in the courtroom.

“Something wrong?” Amanda asked.

“No, no. I’m just, uh, shocked by how fast everything went.”

“That makes two of us.”

“I bet you didn’t see that coming,” Kate said as she and Dennis joined Amanda and Charlie at counsel table.

“No, I didn’t,” Amanda answered, still confused by Burdett’s concession.

A sheriff’s deputy walked over to escort Charlie to the courthouse jail for booking.

“Kate, can you go with Charlie?”

“No problem.”

“I’ll get up to the jail as soon as I post your bail,” Amanda told her client. “Do not say anything about your case to anyone, understood?”

“Mum’s the word.”

“Good. See you in an hour or so.”

“I take it that this was unexpected?” Dennis Levy said.

“Very. I thought Burdett would fight to the death to keep Charlie in custody.”

“Any idea why he caved?”

“He didn’t cave, Dennis, and don’t you dare put it that way. I don’t want to make Karl sorry he gave us a break by making him look like a coward.”

“No, no, you’re right. I’ll write it up as a magnanimous concession.”

“Good.”

“So, why did he cave?” Levy asked with a grin.

“I have no idea. And now, you have to excuse me. I want Charlie out of custody as soon as possible.”

FIFTY-FIVE MINUTES LATER, Amanda escorted Charlie out of the jail and into the sunlight. He paused in the warm summer air to close his eyes and take a deep breath. Amanda noticed a group of reporters moving toward them. Kate was waiting at the curb to drive Amanda to her car. Amanda grabbed Charlie’s elbow and hustled him toward the street. They were almost there when Kate’s windshield exploded.

Kate threw an arm across her face. Charlie froze. Amanda slammed a shoulder into his back and drove him to the pavement just before another bullet passed through the space where his head had been, before blasting a chunk of concrete from the courthouse facade.

A reporter screamed. Others ducked for cover. A cameraman swung around and foolishly looked for the shooter through his lens. Two sheriff’s deputies crouched at the entrance to the courthouse, guns drawn.

“Keep down,” Amanda shouted as she pushed her client halfway under the car.

“What happened?” Charlie asked.

“Someone shot at you. Stay still. The shots came from the other side of the car. The chassis will block you from view.”

Dennis Levy cowered on the floor in the back of Kate’s car. Kate crawled across the glass littering the front seat. She paused long enough to draw her gun before pushing open the passenger door and rolling to the pavement.

“Are you okay?” Amanda asked.

“Yeah.”

Amanda heard a siren. Kate got to one knee and peeked over the hood. An ambulance was speeding toward them and the cameraman who had tried to locate the shooter was pointing the police toward a row of two-story commercial buildings several blocks away. When Kate was certain they were safe she signaled Amanda and the women helped Charlie to his feet.

“You saved my life,” Charlie told Amanda.

“Jaffe, Katz, Lehane and Brindisi is a full-service law firm,” she joked, trying to keep her tone light while she fought the shakes that grew worse as her adrenaline wore off.

“I’m going to need a statement,” a police officer told Charlie. Charlie looked at Amanda.

“It’s okay,” she said. “You’re the victim here. Did you see who shot at you?”

“No. I was looking at the car door. I was going to get in when the window exploded. Then you pushed me to the ground.”

“I’m afraid I can’t add anything to what Mr. Marsh said. I didn’t see a thing. As soon as the window exploded I knocked him down. After that, the car blocked my view.”

“I’m going to need you to come inside anyway so the detectives can take a statement,” the officer told Amanda.

“That’s okay. We’ll just be hounded by the reporters if we stay outside,” Amanda said just as Karl Burdett raced out of the courthouse followed by some of his staff.

“What happened?” he asked Amanda.

“A sniper took a shot at Mr. Marsh.” Burdett turned pale. Amanda pointed to the place where the police had gone. “He was probably on one of those buildings.”

“This is terrible,” Burdett said, more to himself than Amanda. He looked stricken as he walked over to confer with one of the police officers, leaving Amanda confused by the DA’s reaction, which seemed wrong somehow, even given the upsetting event she had just witnessed.

CHAPTER 32

Amanda had reserved rooms for Charlie and Dennis in a boutique hotel on the outskirts of downtown Portland. Levy chattered nonstop during the ride to the hotel but Charlie barely uttered a word. Amanda attributed his silence to trauma from the assassination attempt, but Charlie was thinking about Nathan Tuazama.

Charlie was exhausted when Amanda parked at the hotel. Levy invited them into the bar for a drink, but listening to the reporter drone on about himself was more than they could bear. Amanda begged off for both of them by saying that she had several matters to discuss with her client.

When the elevator stopped at Charlie’s floor, they walked down the corridor to his room. Charlie was about to slide the key card into the slot when he saw that the door was ajar. His mouth went dry and his pulse accelerated. He should have run but he wasn’t thinking straight and he pushed the door open.

The room looked like Hurricane Katrina had whipped through it. The mattress was off the bed and a knife had been taken to it. Stuffing from the mattress mixed with the contents of Charlie’s drawers and closet, which were strewn across the floor. The television had been dismantled and the air-conditioner had been ripped from the wall and taken apart.

Amanda phoned the front desk and told them to call the police. When she hung up she turned to her client.

“All right, Charlie, what’s going on here and does it have anything to do with the box I just stashed in my new safety-deposit box?”

“Probably,” Charlie answered nervously.

“Am I putting myself in danger because I’ve helped you?”

Before Charlie could answer, Amanda’s cell phone rang. She fished it out of her purse and saw that Mike Greene was the caller. Amanda excused herself and walked into the hall.

“I just heard about the shooting at the courthouse. Are you okay?” Mike asked.

Amanda could hear the concern in his voice. This wasn’t the first time Amanda had had a brush with death. Mike had been with her right after her hairbreadth escape from the serial killer the press had nicknamed the Surgeon and shortly after she’d survived a home invasion by professional killers while she was representing Jon Dupre. Amanda was glad he’d called. Knowing that Mike cared for her was as calming as a cup of chamomile tea.

“I’m fine. I was shaken up right after the shooting but I wasn’t hurt at all.”

“Do you want me to come over tonight? I can bring Chinese.”

“I think that’s a great idea. Look, I’m in the middle of something. Let me call you when I’m through and we’ll figure out tonight.”

Amanda disconnected just as the manager and hotel security stepped out of the elevator. After a brief look around, the manager told Charlie that he would move him to another room. Shortly after that two Portland Police officers walked in. While they were interviewing Amanda there was another knock on the door. Charlie turned. The man standing in the doorway looked familiar. When he saw Charlie was having trouble placing him, he held his hands out at his sides as if the greater exposure would solve Charlie’s problem.

“It’s me, Charlie,” the man said. “Mickey Keys, your agent.”

CHARLIE TOOK A good look at his onetime agent and crime partner as he escorted Keys to the end of the hall, where they would have some privacy. Keys was thin; not in a physically fit way but in the way someone looks when they’re not eating well because they can’t afford food. The collar of his shirt was frayed and the elbows of his jacket were shiny. There were lines on his face that hadn’t been there twelve years ago. His skin had a waxy pallor and there were dark circles under his eyes.

“What are you doing here?” Charlie asked.

“What do you mean, Charlie?” Keys said, flashing a tense smile that made him look desperate. “I’m your agent, your business manager. As soon as I heard you were back in the States, I got on the first plane West. I figured you’d need someone to set up appearances, handle your contracts. You know, like the old days.”

“I’ve already got a contract for a new book. If I’m not on death row, my publisher will handle the bookings.”

“You can’t cut me out, Charlie. We have a contract, too,” Mickey said, pulling a wrinkled and stained sheaf of papers out of his jacket pocket. “This is a copy, in case you lost yours. It makes me your agent.”

“Our agreement ended when you cut a deal with the feds.”

Keys pushed the papers at Charlie. “There’s nothing in our contract that lets you out of our arrangement. I’m entitled to fifteen percent of everything.”

Charlie held his hand in the air, refusing to touch the contract. “You’re not getting a penny. You sold me out.”

“I had to. They were going to make me do hard time if I didn’t come clean about the Inner Light scam and the second set of books. You were in Batanga, protected. I was out on a limb, all by myself.”

“A business relationship requires trust, Mickey. How can I trust you after what you did?”

“What I did was three years in a federal lockup while you were getting blow jobs on a tropical beach.”

“Hey, man, I’m sorry you went to jail, but Batanga was no cakewalk. I’d have traded places with you in a nanosecond if I’d known what I was getting myself into. Why do you think I’m here facing a death sentence?”

Keys dropped the tough posture and his shoulders sagged.

“Look, Charlie, I’ll level with you. I’m desperate. The feds took everything. I’ve been working as a telemarketer, because no one will hire an ex-con to do anything else. I live in a hotel room with roaches. You’ve still got the money in your Swiss account and all this new dough. I had to give my money back as part of the plea bargain. I’ve got nothing.”

“I can give you a few bucks, if that’s why you’re here.”

Keys reddened. “I don’t want a handout. I want back in the game. I want to be a player, again.”

“Then I can’t help you.”

“I’ll hire a lawyer. I’ll sue and I’ll win.”

“Do what you gotta do,” Charlie said before walking back to the chaos in his room.

Keys leaned back against the wall. When he had pulled himself together, he started walking to the elevator, his head down, looking utterly defeated.

“Mr. Keys.”

Mickey looked up and found Charlie’s lawyer blocking the way.

“Can I talk to you?” Amanda asked.

“We’ll do our talking in court when I sue your client for breach of contract,” Keys answered, trying to sound like the tough negotiator he’d been before his fall.

“I don’t know anything about your business problems with Mr. Marsh. I’m his criminal attorney.”

“Then what do you want?”

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

“Yeah.”

“Would you be willing to talk to my investigator?”

“About what?”

“Anything you saw that will help us get a handle on what happened.”

Keys looked incredulous. “You want me to help that ungrateful prick after what he just did to me?”

“We just want to hear your version of what happened.”

“My version, huh.” Keys stopped talking and Amanda could almost see the wheels turning inside his skull. “Well, let’s talk about that. My memory is a bit hazy right now. But I might be able to remember more clearly if my financial situation cleared up. So, why don’t you have a word with Charlie. When you get back to me-depending on the news-I’ll either be talking to your investigator or the DA.”

CHAPTER 33

The morning after the sniper attack, Amanda slept late and didn’t get to the offices of Jaffe, Katz, Lehane and Brindisi until nine. When she opened the door to the reception area, Dennis Levy was talking excitedly on his cell phone. He broke off his call as soon as he saw Amanda and sprang out of his chair, almost knocking the latte she was holding out of her hand when he thrust a copy of World News at her.

“What do you think?” he asked proudly.

“Not much until I’ve had my coffee,” Amanda answered, taking a step back from the keyed-up journalist.

“Look,” Levy said, pointing just below the picture of Charlie Marsh that graced the magazine cover, where bright red block letters proclaimed, THE GURU RETURNS. Following the title was the byline, DENNIS LEVY.

“That’s my story,” Levy declared.

“Congratulations,” Amanda told him, impressed despite her dislike for the reporter.

Levy flipped the magazine open to his story and directed Amanda to a column on the second page. “I told you you’d get a lot of publicity out of this,” he said.

Amanda read the column. Sure enough, she was prominently featured as the lawyer Charlie had chosen to defend him.

“Mrs. Brice overnighted this copy to me. It is literally hot off the press.”

Amanda forced a smile. “It looks like you’re on your way, Dennis.”

“So, what are we doing this morning?”

“I’m not sure,” Amanda lied. “I do have other cases. Why don’t you wait out here while I get some caffeine in me and try to figure out my schedule? All that excitement at the courthouse threw it off.”

“Sure thing,” Dennis said.

As Amanda walked toward Kate’s office, she chanced a quick glance over her shoulder. Levy was smiling like the Cheshire Cat as he reread his magazine article. She couldn’t blame him for being proud.

Amanda knocked on Kate’s doorjamb. “I have a problem,” she told her investigator. “I’m interviewing Sally Pope and I do not want Jimmy Olsen’s evil twin tagging along.”

“Levy wants to look at the Pope file. I can set him up in the conference room and you can sneak out while he’s going through it.”

“You’re brilliant.”

“That’s why I get the big bucks.”

“Just make sure he understands that he has to leave the file the way he found it. I haven’t had a chance to go through it yet.”

“Will do. I’ll also take him with me when I interview Ralph Day.”

“Who?”

“He was Junior’s challenger in his last election.”

“Right. That should keep him out of my hair.”

WHILE HE WAITED for the receptionist to bring him coffee, Dennis studied the mountain of information spread across the conference table. The task of going through it was daunting but Levy loved research. He believed that it was his attention to detail that made him superior to the other reporters at World News.

Kate’s trial book made it easier for Dennis to work through the material. She had explained how she had organized everything from the file into piles relating to different topics. The first items Levy looked at were the autopsy report and photos, because he’d never covered any crime stories and he was curious. He flipped through them with only the tiniest emotional reaction and was pleased with himself. When he was through with the material concerning the cause of death, he pulled over another stack.

An hour later, Dennis squared off a group of reports and stood up. As he stretched, he noticed something sticking out of a pile of witness interviews. He pulled it out and gave it a cursory inspection. He was about to put it back when something caught his eye. He pulled it closer and squinted. Then his eyes grew wide and his heart began to beat rapidly.

“SO, WHAT’S IT like working for the Jaffes?” Dennis Levy asked as he and Kate drove to Ralph Day’s office. The reporter had been talking nonstop since he’d gotten in Kate’s car and he couldn’t sit still. The constant chatter and twitching was getting on Kate’s nerves.

“Most of the time it’s just routine stuff. You know, witness interviews, like today. Internet searches.”

“It must be pretty exciting when you’re investigating a big case, like Charlie’s.”

“The job has its moments,” Kate answered ambiguously, choosing to keep to herself the details of the harrowing situations in which she’d been involved since going to work for Jaffe, Katz, Lehane and Brindisi.

“Any background you can give me on Amanda? Things that aren’t public knowledge that might spice up my stories.”

“You mean like her affair with Brad Pitt or the identity of the father of her secret love child?” Kate answered, keeping her eyes on the road ahead.

Levy’s laugh sounded forced. “That’s good. Yeah, that would help sell magazines.”

“I’m afraid Amanda doesn’t have a lot of secrets and-if she did-she’d have to be the person to tell them to you.”

“Oh, come on. There’s got to be something.”

“What makes you think I’d dish dirt about a good friend?”

“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 someplace 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.

Amanda opened the front door and started to punch in her alarm code. The alarm wasn’t on. She paused, her fingers over the keypad. Amanda hadn’t slept well because of the events at the courthouse. She decided that she’d probably been so tired that she’d forgotten to set the alarm when she left for work. She flipped on the lights, left the sushi on the kitchen counter, and headed toward her bedroom to change. Halfway through her living room, she froze. A slender black man was watching her from her couch.

“Not to worry, Miss Jaffe,” Nathan Tuazama said in his lilting African English. “I have no intention of hurting you.”

Amanda took a closer look at her visitor. His suit was expensive and his shoes were shined. She thought his tie might be silk. This was definitely not the attire of a cat burglar.

“I think you should explain why you broke into my apartment before I call the police,” Amanda said, keeping her voice calm while she scanned the area around her for potential weapons.

The intruder’s lips curved upward but there was something unnatural about his smile. Amanda was reminded of the rictus she’d seen on the faces of corpses in autopsy photos.

“I assure you that Charlie won’t want the police to learn of our conversation.”

Amanda pulled out her cell phone. “I just punched in a nine and a one. If I don’t get a good explanation for this break-in, I’m finishing the call.”

“Please, Miss Jaffe, sit down. I know it must be unsettling to find someone in your home but I won’t be here long and you are perfectly safe. It’s your client who should be worried.”

“If you want to talk to me about my client, I have an office and business hours.”

“Long hours, to judge from the time I’ve spent waiting for you. I’m pleased to see that Charlie has such a dedicated advocate. But let’s get to business. It’s late and you must be tired.

“I am Nathan Tuazama, the director of President Jean-Claude Baptiste’s National Education Bureau.” Amanda felt her stomach roll. “You have heard of President Baptiste?”

Amanda nodded. “Charlie’s also mentioned you.”

“I imagine he has.”

“What do you want with me?”

“President Baptiste would appreciate some assistance with a problem.”

“And that is?”

“Charlie took something that did not belong to him when he left Batanga, something that belongs to President Baptiste. If Charlie was still in Batanga I would be having this conversation with him in the basement of the executive mansion, and the problem would be solved quickly.”

Charlie had told Amanda what happened in the basement of the mansion, and it took every ounce of Amanda’s courtroom training to maintain her composure.

“Unfortunately, I am in America, so I am here to ask you, on behalf of my president, to act as our intermediary and convince Charlie to return what he has taken.”

The box! Tuazama had to be referring to the contents of Charlie’s box.

“Assuming I can get this property to you, what happens to Charlie?”

“Once I have the property, President Baptiste will have no further interest in your client,” Tuazama lied. “Charlie is an insignificant and easily forgettable individual, but he will become significant to me should he try to retain the president’s property. Tell him that. Tell Charlie that he will become someone of great interest to me if I do not get what I want. And tell him I am not a patient man when it comes to my president’s interests.”

“What is it you think Mr. Marsh has?”

Tuazama stood. “That need not concern you. In fact, the less you know, the better off you are. Believe me, you do not want to involve yourself in this business other than as a messenger.”

“How will I contact you to tell you what Mr. Marsh wants to do?”

“Don’t trouble yourself about anything but communicating President Baptiste’s wishes to your client. I know the number of your cell phone. Rest assured, I’ll be in touch soon. It’s been a pleasure meeting you.”

Amanda set her alarm the moment her door closed behind Tuazama. Then she sat down until her nerves settled. Amanda had no idea what Charlie was into but she was convinced that Tuazama had been responsible for the chaos in Charlie’s hotel room. Amanda wondered if Tuazama was the sniper and if he’d missed on purpose to frighten Charlie. He’d certainly frightened her.

HALF AN HOUR later, Amanda was seated on the sofa in the sitting room in Charlie’s suite.

“Do you remember telling me about Nathan Tuazama, the head of Baptiste’s secret police?”

Charlie’s eyes shifted nervously and a sheen of sweat appeared on his forehead.

“I just got a chance to meet him, Charlie. He broke into my apartment.”

“He didn’t hurt you, did he?” Charlie asked with genuine concern.

“No, but he made it pretty clear that he’s going to hurt you unless you return what you stole from President Baptiste.”

“I didn’t steal anything.”

“Then what is Tuazama doing here?”

Charlie looked ill. “He’s after the contents of the box I gave you.”

“And that is?”

“Some diamonds I smuggled out of Batanga,” Charlie answered, his voice barely above a whisper.

“How many diamonds?”

“I don’t know exactly.”

“Guess.”

Charlie looked down, unable to meet her eye. “A lot. I haven’t had a chance to show them to anyone who can tell me what they’re worth.”

“Do the diamonds in the box belong to President Baptiste?”

“No, not really.”

“Then why did Nathan Tuazama say they did?”

“Uh, it’s a law thing.”

“Humor me, Charlie. Pretend I’m a lawyer who might be intelligent enough to understand what you have to say.”

Charlie licked his lips. “Well, in the U.S., women have a lot of freedom. I mean, look at you. You can vote and go to law school. Stuff like that. In Batanga they have all these tribal laws. Husbands sort of own their wives and once they’re married anything the wife owns becomes the husband’s property.”

“They were Bernadette’s diamonds?”

“He treated her like shit, Amanda. He can’t get it up, so he’d take it out on her. When we were in bed, she would cry. I saw the marks.”

“And you took advantage of her and got her to give you these diamonds?” Amanda said, not even trying to disguise her disgust.

“It wasn’t that way,” Charlie protested. “They belonged to Bernadette and she gave them to someone who gave them to me.”

“Who?”

“I can’t tell you.”

“Why can’t you tell me?”

“I can’t tell you that either. Believe me, I would if I could, but I swore I wouldn’t talk about it.”

“You don’t think I’ve earned the right to the information after Tuazama’s visit?”

“Please, Amanda, don’t ask me anymore about the diamonds.”

“Am I in danger, Charlie?”

“If Tuazama thought you knew anything you wouldn’t be here. As long as he doesn’t know I gave you the diamonds, you’re safe.”

“Would Tuazama have the nerve to kill you in the States?” Amanda asked.

“Oh, yeah. This guy is pure evil. I’m not completely convinced he’s human.”

“Do you think he was the sniper?”

“He could have been. I wouldn’t put it past him to miss on purpose to put the fear of God in me. Did you know he was in the courtroom?”

“At the bail hearing?”

Charlie nodded.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t want you involved.”

“Well, I am. You involved me when you gave me the diamonds.”

Amanda thought for a moment. Then she looked directly at her client.

“Let me give him the diamonds, Charlie, if it will make him go away. They won’t be worth anything to you if you’re dead.”

“What if I don’t? What can we do? Can’t you report him for breaking into your apartment?”

“The only crime Tuazama has committed is trespass. He didn’t break in to commit a crime. He just asked me to ask you to give back the diamonds. Trespassing is a misdemeanor. He’d be out on bail immediately and a lot madder than he is now. Don’t screw around with this guy, Charlie. Baptiste may have a legal claim to the gems. Give him the diamonds.”

Charlie worried his lip. He looked at the floor. Then he shook his head.

“I can’t do it.”

“Why, for God’s sake? Are they worth your life?”

“If I give back the diamonds it’s like Bernadette died for nothing. Baptiste thinks he’s invincible, that he can hurt people on a whim without any consequences.”

Charlie stopped to take a deep breath. Then he looked directly at Amanda. “If I keep his diamonds it won’t be much, but it will be something.”

“Charlie, there are diamond mines in Batanga and Baptiste controls them. He can get all the diamonds he wants.”

“But he can’t have these diamonds. I know it doesn’t make sense to you, but I know Baptiste. He can’t stand the idea that someone might stand up to him or outsmart him. That’s why my diamonds mean so much to him. Not having them will drive him crazy.”

“From what you’ve told me, he’s already crazy and he has no respect for life. If Tuazama is as dangerous as you say, there’s a good chance he’ll kill you.”

Charlie broke eye contact with Amanda. His shoulders hunched and he wrung his hands.

“I just can’t do it.”

“You might have to if it will save your life. Tuazama will be calling me to learn your answer and I don’t think he’ll wait long.”

Charlie stared at the floor.

“There’s something else we should discuss,” Amanda said when it was clear that she’d make no more headway with this subject tonight. “I was going to talk to you about it tomorrow, but I’m here, so we might as well talk about it now. What do you want to do about Mickey Keys?”

“What do you mean?”

“I had a talk with him in the hallway when he was leaving. He’s really upset and he seems desperate. He threatened to go to Burdett if you didn’t make things right with him. Is there something he can tell the DA that can hurt you?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Keys was in the limo with you on the ride to the Westmont. Would he know what happened to the murder weapon between the hotel and the club?”

“I…I don’t know.”

“Is there something you’re not telling me about the gun, Charlie?”

“No. I don’t know what happened to it after I got out of the car. I just know I didn’t have it.”

“Can you do anything to placate Keys so he’ll talk to Kate?”

“You mean like give him a cut of my earnings? That’s what he wants.”

“Keys gave me a copy of his contract with you. Contract law isn’t my specialty but we have attorneys in the firm who can look at it to see if it’s binding. If you’re going to lose in court, we might as well cut a deal with Keys and keep him happy.”

“The bastard sold me out to the feds.”

“From what I know about Inner Light, the feds would have found out everything he told them anyway.”

Charlie rubbed his eyes and sighed. “I’m beat, Amanda. Let me get some sleep. I can’t think straight.”

“All right, we’ll talk in the morning, but you’re going to have to decide what I’m going to tell Tuazama. I don’t think we can stall him.”

CHAPTER 36

Kate Ross shut the door to Amanda’s office before sitting next to Mickey Keys on one of Amanda’s client chair.

“Thanks for coming to see us,” Amanda said.

“No problem. So, is Charlie going to honor his contract?” Keys asked eagerly.

“Mr. Keys, it will be impossible for you to continue as Charlie’s agent. You must see that.”

“I don’t see that at all.”

“Agents can help a client because of contacts. You haven’t been an agent for a dozen years. How many people do you still know in the publishing industry?”

“With Charlie as a client, making contacts won’t be difficult, believe me.”

“You’re also a potential witness against Charlie. If he’s prosecuted for his part in the Inner Light scam, there will be a conflict of interest.”

“I don’t care about any conflicts of interest. Charlie hung me out to dry when he split. I lost everything. He’s loaded and he owes me.”

“I’ve had an attorney in my firm look at your contract and he doesn’t think it’s enforceable.”

“Well, he wouldn’t, would he, since he’s working for Charlie?”

“Agents have a fiduciary duty to their clients,” Amanda said calmly. “When you told the feds that Charlie was involved in tax fraud and revealed your business dealings with him, you breached that duty and lost the right to be his agent.”

“I had no choice.”

“Of course you did. You could have protected your client by refusing to cooperate.”

“Yeah, and gone to jail for ten years.”

“In any event, we don’t think you can enforce the contract.”

“We’ll see about that.”

“You can hire an attorney and go through lengthy litigation you’ll probably lose,” Amanda said.

“I’ll take my chances.”

Keys started to get to his feet.

“Or we can resolve this problem another way,” Amanda said.

Keys sat down. “I’m listening.”

“Charlie doesn’t recognize any legal obligation under the contract but he’s not unsympathetic to your situation. He’s willing to settle your claim without going to court.”

“How much are we talking about?” Keys asked, trying to look nonchalant and failing miserably.

“Charlie is willing to give you a check for fifty thousand dollars if you relinquish all claims under your old contract.”

“Fifty! That’s nothing. I read Variety. I know how much he got from the publisher.”

“A good part of his advance will be used to fund his legal defense. And don’t forget the IRS. They’ll come after Charlie just like they came after you. So he might not end up with anything. Fifty thousand dollars is much more than fifteen percent of zero.”

Kate and Amanda sat quietly while Keys weighed his options. His body language broadcast his anguish better than words ever could. When he finally spoke, his shoulders sagged with resignation.

“Make it seventy-five,” Keys said.

“Done,” Amanda said after hesitating long enough to make Keys think she was struggling with her decision. That morning, Charlie had given her authority to go as high as one hundred thousand dollars to buy off Keys.

“I want a check today.”

“That won’t be a problem. Are you willing to answer a few questions about Charlie’s case after I give it to you?”

“Yeah, ask away,” Keys answered. He sounded tired.

“I’ll draw up the check while you read this,” Amanda said as she handed Keys a document in which he agreed to give up the right to be Charlie’s agent.

As soon as he signed, Amanda handed Keys the check. Then it was Kate’s turn to take the floor.

“Mr. Keys, how did you and Mr. Marsh meet?”

Keys laughed. “That’s a good story. Charlie was a hot property after the prison standoff, but no one could get to him. Technically, he was still a prisoner and the cops had him under wraps in the hospital.” Keys flashed a proud grin. “Know what I did?”

“I can’t begin to guess,” Kate answered.

“I slipped a nurse a few bucks for the number of his room and one of those ID tags you clip on. I switched my photo for the photo of the doc on the tag. Then I dressed up. I had this clipboard and stethoscope and the white coat.” He shrugged. “It was easy as pie. The cop on the door took a quick look at the ID tag and I was in. Charlie liked my moxie. I guess he figured if I could con my way past the cops I could con the publishing and movie people. And I already had some good ideas for merchandise.”

Keys paused. He looked thoughtful. “Charlie made the right choice. I did great by him. I mean, we made out like bandits.” Keys paused again. “I guess I shouldn’t use that phrase, huh? What with the IRS and all.”

“Whose idea was the Inner Light scam?”

“I thought it up. I had the accounting background.”

“Did Mr. Marsh ever protest?” Kate asked.

“You want to know if I had to twist Charlie’s arm?”

Kate nodded.

“Don’t forget why Charlie was in prison. He’s been a con artist his whole life. He’d just never operated on this scale before.”

Amanda asked Keys to outline the scheme. When he was finished, Kate asked Keys about the evening of the shooting.

“Who was with you and Charlie at the country club?”

“Let’s see, it was me, Charlie, Delmar Epps, and…there was someone else.”

Keys thought hard for a moment. Then he rolled his eyes. “I forgot Moonbeam.”

“Who?” Amanda interjected.

“This groupie.” Keys shook his head. “She was an obnoxious little twit who attached herself to Charlie. I have to believe she was the greatest lay in history because I can’t think of any other reason Charlie put up with her. Anyway, she was in the car with us.”

“What do you remember about the fancy revolver that was used to shoot Congressman Pope?” Kate asked.

“Some broad Charlie banged in Texas gave it to him. Her husband was an oil tycoon who was ancient and he collected guns. Charlie saw it when he was at her house and took a shine to it. She gave it to Charlie when he was leaving. I bawled him out about taking it. He was on parole, for Christ’s sake. Possessing a weapon could have sent him back to prison.”

“How did the gun get to the Westmont?”

“Delmar Epps brought it. He loved toting that gun around, pretending he was Wyatt Earp. I remember him twirling it on his finger in the car, because the limo hit a bump and he dropped it. I almost had a heart attack. The damn thing was pointing at me when it bounced off the floor. I thought it would go off. I yelled at Delmar to put the damn thing away and I have a clear picture of him putting it on the seat next to him while we were driving.”

“Did he have the gun when he left the car?”

Keys’s brow furrowed. “Delmar usually had the gun stuck in the waistband of his pants, but I don’t know if he had it on him when he got out of the limo. Some guy Charlie knew opened the door to the limo instead of the chauffeur and Delmar got in his face. I was concentrating on that while I got out of the car. Then I moved back as fast as I could because I didn’t want to be in the way if a fight started.”

“Do you know where Epps is now?” Kate asked.

“Actually, I do. He’s dead, killed in a car accident. They had a story in the newspaper about it because of his involvement with Charlie.”

A knock on the door interrupted Kate as she was about to ask her next question.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, Miss Jaffe,” the receptionist said, “but there’s an FBI agent in the waiting room who’d like to speak to you.”

Amanda frowned. She had a few cases going in federal court but she couldn’t think of any reason for an agent to be contacting her.

“You two go on,” she said before leaving the room.

A stocky, broad-shouldered man with wavy black hair, whom Amanda didn’t recognize, was standing in the reception area. He was wearing a navy blue pinstripe suit, a crisp white shirt, and a tasteful dark blue tie with narrow red and yellow stripes.

“I’m Amanda Jaffe,” she said as she offered him her hand.

“Agent Daniel Cordova from the FBI office in Seattle,” he said with an easy smile. “I’m pleased to meet you. They say good things about you in the Portland office.”

“Uh-oh. That means I’m probably not doing my job very well,” Amanda answered with her own smile.

“From what I hear, you do it too well.”

“What can I do for you, Agent Cordova?”

“Is there someplace private we can talk?”

Kate was still interviewing Mickey Keys, and the Pope file still covered the table in the conference room. Frank was in court, so Amanda led the FBI agent to her father’s office.

“You’re representing Charles Marsh on a state murder charge,” Cordova said when they were seated.

“Yes,” Amanda answered cautiously.

“In the course of your representation, have you come across the name Gary Hass?”

“He was a criminal associate of Werner Rollins, one of the witnesses against Sally Pope, wasn’t he?”

“That’s right. And Mr. Hass is still a criminal, someone we are very anxious to arrest. A few days ago, a Russian drug dealer named Ivan Mikhailov was tortured to death in Seattle. Mikhailov was trying to take over territory serviced by Julio Dominguez, another dealer with ties to a South American cartel. An informant told us that Hass murdered Mikhailov on orders from Dominguez.”

“What does this have to do with Charlie?”

“Hopefully, nothing. But we searched Hass’s hotel room. He’d collected several articles about Mr. Marsh and his return to Oregon to stand trial. Do you know if Hass and Mr. Marsh had a falling-out before Marsh fled the country?”

“I can’t reveal attorney-client confidences, but why do you want to know?”

“Hass is a peculiar person. He’s very smart, very violent, and he’s known to harbor grudges for years. It’s possible that he’s in Oregon seeking to even an old score.”

“Have you heard that a sniper tried to kill Charlie after his bail hearing?” Amanda asked.

“That’s why I’m here.”

“You think Hass was the sniper?”

“We have no evidence to support that but I’d like to talk to your client to see if he knows anything that will help us catch Hass. If Hass is trying to kill your client he’ll benefit by cooperating.”

“Why don’t you wait here and I’ll call Charlie.”

Amanda closed the door and started down the hall to the conference room when her cell phone rang.

“Have you spoken with your client, Miss Jaffe?” Nathan Tuazama asked. Amanda’s pulse began to race. She hated to admit it, but the Batangan frightened her.

“He’s thinking about your request.”

“I will be calling you this afternoon. If you don’t have a positive response for me I will go to plan B.”

Tuazama disconnected. Amanda swore and hurried into the conference room. She dialed Charlie’s hotel room from the phone on the credenza. Marsh picked up on the second ring.

“I called you for two reasons, Charlie. Both serious. There’s an FBI agent named Cordova in the office. He wants to talk to you about Gary Hass.”

Amanda heard an intake of breath on the line. “Charlie?”

“What about Gary?”

“They think he was in Seattle recently. He’s a suspect in a murder up there. When they searched his hotel room the FBI found articles about you. Would there be a reason he would try to kill you?”

“The FBI thinks he’s the sniper?”

“I don’t think they have anything concrete, but Cordova wants to talk to you about Gary to see if there’s a reason he might be in Oregon looking for you. What do you want me to tell him?”

“Oh, man. This is all I need, Tuazama and Hass after me.”

“That’s the other thing I wanted to talk to you about. Nathan Tuazama just called. He wants an answer by this afternoon.”

“If I talk to the FBI, will they protect me?”

“I don’t know, Charlie. I don’t think they can do anything while you’re facing a murder charge unless you have some amazing evidence about some huge case the feds need help with. I get the impression Cordova just wants to find out if there’s a reason Hass might be in Oregon. Do you want to talk to him? I’ll make sure he doesn’t ask you anything that will hurt your case. If the FBI arrests Hass, that’s one less thing you have to worry about.”

“Okay, bring him over. It’ll give me something to do.”

“I’ll be right there. By the way, the problem with Mickey Keys is settled. He signed a waiver to any rights he may have had as your agent.”

“How much did it cost me?”

“Seventy-five.”

“Damn, I’m bleeding money.”

“Think of it as one less problem you have.”

“Yeah, right.”

“Do you know what you want me to tell Tuazama?”

“No, not yet. I still want to think about what I’m going to do and this stuff about Gary isn’t making that any easier.”

“MR. MARSH, DO you know why Gary Hass would have newspaper articles about you in his hotel room?” Agent Cordova asked as soon as the introductions were completed.

“Gary and me go way back and he was there when the congressman was killed, so it’s natural he’d be interested in reading about me and the case.”

“Other than curiosity, why would he be interested in you? Does he have a reason to want to hurt you?”

Charlie thought about that. “He might. The day Pope died, Gary came to one of my book signings and threatened me.”

“About what?” Cordova asked.

Charlie suddenly looked uncomfortable.

“Don’t answer that if you were talking about something criminal,” Amanda cautioned.

“Miss Jaffe and Mr. Marsh, I’m not taking notes on this and I promise you I will not use anything Mr. Marsh tells me to get him in trouble. The Bureau wants Hass badly. This is strictly background.”

Charlie looked at Amanda. She nodded.

“Gary said there were incidents in the book from his life and he wanted to get paid.”

“What kind of incidents?” Cordova asked.

“There was a chapter about a bank robbery. That’s the one I remember.”

“What about a bank robbery?”

“I wrote about one where I was robbing a bank and everything got messed up and some people were killed. He said I wasn’t there and he wanted to get paid because he said I was taking credit for something he did.”

“What did you do when he asked for the money?” Cordova asked.

“I told him that I wasn’t going to give him any.”

“How did he react to that?”

“Gary was pissed off. He doesn’t deal well with rejection. He said he was going to give me time to think and we’d discuss the money later at the country club. He showed up but we never got the chance to talk because of the murder.”

“Did you see him after that?”

“No. I was in Africa until a few days ago. I never even thought about Gary.”

“Do you think Hass would hold a grudge all these years?” Cordova asked.

“Gary’s brain doesn’t work like a normal person’s brain,” Charlie explained to the agent. “He doesn’t believe in forgive and forget. So he might.”

“Would he be angry enough to try and shoot you?”

“You mean the sniper?” Charlie shook his head. “I can’t see him doing that. Gary likes to hear his victims scream. Also, I never heard of him being a great shot. A knife is more his style. Or a handgun. He’d use one of those but he’d be close when he used it.”

“WHAT DO YOU really think about the possibility of Hass being the sniper?” Amanda asked when Cordova was gone.

“I meant what I said. I just don’t see it. Gary is a psycho. He wants to see suffering up close. A long-range shot doesn’t sound right.”

“What about Tuazama?”

“Oh, he’d do it all right. He doesn’t kill for pleasure. I don’t think he knows what pleasure is. He’s a technician. If a person needs to be dead, Nathan kills them. It’s like fixing a flat tire for him.”

“If he’s that dangerous, what do I tell him about the diamonds?”

“I can’t do it. It would dishonor Bernadette’s memory.”

“If that’s your decision, I think we should use some of the money I have in trust to hire a bodyguard.”

“That’s not going to help. If Tuazama wants me dead, nothing’s going to stop him. That’s another reason why I can’t give him the diamonds. Once he has them, he won’t have any reason to let me live. Those stones are the only thing keeping me alive.”

CHAPTER 37

Charlie was going stir crazy but he didn’t dare leave his hotel room with Tuazama on the loose. He called room service for dinner, watched an in-room movie, then tried to get to sleep. The moment he closed his eyes, he thought about Tuazama, and his pulse rate accelerated. He finally fell asleep from exhaustion at 1:30, after downing several small bottles of booze he found in the minibar. At 2:17, the jarring ring of the bedside phone cut into Charlie’s brain like a razor.

“Who the fuck is this?” he asked after fumbling in the dark for the receiver.

“Charlie?” a woman asked. It was a voice he would never forget. Charlie sat up and turned on the lamp on his end table.

“Sally? What’s going on? It’s two in the morning.”

“I have to see you.”

“When?” Charlie asked, still groggy from the shock of being jarred out of a deep sleep.

“Now, tonight.”

Charlie thought Sally sounded desperate but he had no intention of leaving the safety of his hotel room in the dead of night.

“Didn’t you hear me? It’s two in the morning. I was sound asleep.”

“It has to be now.”

Sally’s voice trembled and that made Charlie pause. The Sally he knew was never out of control.

“What’s so important that it can’t wait a few hours?”

“It’s about your case. There’s something I have to show you. It can’t wait until morning.”

“I don’t even know where you live. I don’t have a car.”

“Get a taxi. I’ll drive you back.”

Sally gave him directions to her house.

“That’s in the middle of nowhere,” Charlie said. “I’m not going to hell and gone tonight. Besides, if this is about my case, I want my lawyer along.”

“No! This can’t wait until morning. It has to be now,” she repeated. “And you have to come alone. I know something that will help you get your case dismissed.”

“What do you know?”

“I can’t tell you over the phone. I have to show you. Please.”

Charlie was wide awake and wise enough to know that there was no way he would be able to get back to sleep. If he didn’t go, he’d be up all night imagining what Sally wanted to show him.

“All right, I’m coming, but this better be good.”

“Thank you, Charlie. Thank you.”

Sally hung up and Charlie sat on the edge of the bed reviewing what had just happened. She’d said she could show him something that would get his case dismissed. It sounded too good to be true. What could she possibly know now that she didn’t know twelve years ago?

Sally hadn’t sounded happy or confident. She’d sounded desperate and panicky, emotions he would never have associated with her. What was she afraid of and why couldn’t she wait until morning to show her evidence to him? It was very confusing, but he was too tired to work out the problem and too revved up to fall asleep. He called the front desk, asked them to get a taxi for him, and got dressed.

THE CABBIE WAS a grizzled, talkative Ukrainian who spent the early part of the ride giving Charlie his unsolicited opinion of the current state of soccer in the United States. Much to Charlie’s relief, he shut up after they left the highway and the signs of civilization faded away. It was spooky driving through the sparsely populated farm country in the dark.

Even with Sally’s directions the driver almost missed the narrow entrance to her estate. The woods closed around them as soon as they passed through the break in the stonework, giving Charlie the unsettling, claustrophobic feeling that he was inside a coffin of leaves. His anxiety didn’t ease when they drove out of the forest. In daylight, the colorful flower beds and bright green lawn made Sally’s antebellum mansion look cheerful. At night, with only the pale rays of a half moon to illuminate it, the house resembled a skull.

When they drove up to the front of the house, Charlie looked for some sign of life and finally spotted dim yellow light seeping through the curtains in a downstairs room.

“Stop here,” Charlie said when the cab reached the front door.

“You want me to wait?” the driver asked.

Charlie thought about that. Sally had said she would drive him back to town, and he had a cell phone.

“No, you can go.”

Charlie got out and the cab drove off. There was a soft breeze, a faint smell of freshly mown grass, night sounds, and nothing else. He was spooked, so he turned in a slow circle to make sure no one was behind him. He had almost completed his turn when he thought he saw movement where the woods ended and the lawn began. He peered into the darkness. The space between the low branches of a tree seemed to disappear and reappear. He strained to find the cause but heard and saw nothing. He blamed the phantom on his imagination and climbed the porch steps.

No one had left a light on, so it took Charlie a moment to find the doorbell. The chimes echoed hollowly in the downstairs hall. As Charlie waited for Sally, there was a faint sound behind him. He turned toward the yard but still saw nothing. When he turned back, his eyes had grown accustomed to the dark and he noticed that the front door was not flush with the frame. He pushed and it opened. Charlie hesitated before stepping inside. There was a glow at the end of a long hall. Charlie inched toward the light and called Sally’s name. He was waiting for an answer when he saw the dog. It lay on its side partially hidden by a low cedar chest that stood against the staircase to the second floor. Charlie assumed the collie was sleeping. Then it dawned on him that, sleeping or not, the dog would have come awake when he called to Sally.

Charlie walked to the chest and peered over it. The collie’s head was in a shadow and it took him a moment to see that it was resting in a puddle of blood. He jumped back, almost tripping over his own feet. If Charlie’s DNA contained a gene for common sense, he would have fled. Instead, he picked up a brass candlestick from the top of the chest and started down the hall toward the light. His feet made no sound on the carpet and he could hear his heart beating rapidly. Charlie’s heightened senses focused on the open doorway at the end of the hall. As he inched closer, he could see a rug, the end of a couch, and part of a table.

Charlie pressed his back to the wall and slid sideways toward the room, brandishing the candlestick like a club. When he reached the doorway, Charlie paused and took a deep breath. Then he spun through the door, his arm raised above his head.

He was in a large living room and the light he’d seen from the end of the hall came from a table lamp that stood next to a phone. Next to the end table was a straight-backed, wooden chair. Sally Pope was secured to it by duct tape. Her head had fallen forward. She was wearing a white nightgown that showed the blood that drenched the front of it to maximum effect.

Charlie also took in the body of a dark-haired woman sprawled on the floor in front of a long couch. He couldn’t tell if she was dead or unconscious. He was about to go to her when a muffled sound brought him around. A wild-eyed teenage boy was lying on the floor near the fireplace, tied tight by the same gray duct tape that bound Sally to her chair. He was trying to tell Charlie something but his words were muffled by the tape that sealed his mouth.

Charlie started toward the boy, who jerked his head violently toward the drapes hanging on either side of French doors that opened onto the patio. The drapes moved and a man appeared. He was dressed in black and his face was hidden behind a ski mask.

“Who…?” was all Charlie got out before the man raised the gun he was holding. Charlie heard someone moving behind him just before he was shot. As he fell, he heard more shots and the sound of shattering glass. Then he passed out.

CHAPTER 38

Dad,” Amanda said as soon as Frank Jaffe answered the phone, “Sally Pope is dead. She’s been murdered.”

Amanda waited for a response. “Dad?” she repeated when she got none.

“I…I’m just…What happened?”

It was 6:38 in the morning. Frank was getting ready for work and had just finished in the bathroom. The unexpected ring of the phone had startled him. Now his daughter’s words stunned him and he slumped on the edge of the bed.

“I don’t know all of the details, but Charlie Marsh was shot. That’s how I found out. He had someone call me from the hospital. Sally was murdered in her house. He was there.”

“What was Marsh doing at Sally’s house?”

“I don’t know. I’m going to the hospital. I’ll let you know what I find out.”

Amanda hung up. Frank held the receiver for a moment. It took an effort to return it to its cradle. Suddenly Frank felt very old. His shoulders sagged. A sob escaped his lips and he was consumed by grief.

THE POLICEMAN WHO was guarding Charlie’s hospital room checked Amanda’s ID before letting her in. Charlie was propped up in bed connected to monitors and IV bags by an array of wires and plastic tubing. His tan was a few shades paler and his left arm was in a sling.

“How are you feeling?” Amanda asked as she dragged a chair to the side of the bed.

“If I’d known how good morphine felt I would have gotten shot a long time ago,” Charlie answered with a sloppy grin. Then he sobered. “They wouldn’t tell me anything. Is Sally dead?”

Amanda nodded. “And Gina, her personal assistant. Sally’s son wasn’t harmed physically but he’s so traumatized that the doctors won’t let the police interview him. You’re the only other survivor. The detective in charge of the investigation is in the waiting room. He wants to interview you. I told him I’d ask you what you want to do.”

“This is so terrible. I liked Sally.”

“Will you talk to the detective? I’ll be with you to protect you if he gets too far afield.”

“Yeah, I’ll do it.”

“One thing they’ll want to know is why you’re not dead.”

“That’s easy. Someone saved me.”

“Who?”

“I don’t know. I never saw him.”

“What were you doing at Sally Pope’s house in the middle of the night?”

“She called me. She wanted me to come alone, right away. She claimed to know something that would get my case dismissed.”

“What was it?”

“She wouldn’t tell me. She said she had to show it to me.”

“How did she sound during the call?”

“Shaky, panicky.”

“Do you think she was being forced to say what she did to lure you to her house?”

“I’m sure of it. The killer probably threatened her kid to force her to call me.”

Amanda nodded agreement. “Go on.”

“I took a cab. When I got there, the house was dark. I went in, saw that someone had killed the dog, and noticed light coming from the living room. When I walked into the room Sally was taped to a chair. Her head was down, so I couldn’t be sure she was dead, but there was blood all over her nightgown. There was another woman sprawled on the floor.”

“That was Gina.”

“Sally’s kid tried to warn me, but the killer had taped his mouth shut so I didn’t know what he was saying. Then this guy came out from behind the curtains and shot me.”

“You’re certain it was a man?”

“Pretty certain. He was wearing a ski mask and gloves, but he had a man’s physique.”

“Okay, what happened next?”

“Just before I was shot I heard someone behind me, but I was shot before I could turn. There were more shots behind and in front of me and glass breaking. I’m guessing that was the French windows. Then I woke up here.”

“So there were two shooters,” Amanda mused. “That might explain the 911 call.”

“What 911 call?”

“It’s why you didn’t bleed to death. Someone made an anonymous call to 911. Otherwise you wouldn’t have been found in time to save you. When the medics arrived you were almost dead from blood loss. I’m guessing that the person who saved you also made the call.”

The door opened and the police guard stepped in. He didn’t look happy.

“There’s a man out here who insists he’s part of the defense team. He wants to talk to Mr. Marsh.”

“Tell this cop I work with you and I’m entitled to see our client,” Dennis Levy yelled angrily from the corridor.

“Excuse me,” Amanda said to Charlie. She stepped outside and grabbed Levy by the elbow.

“Come with me,” she said as she led Dennis down the hall until they were far enough from the officer so he couldn’t hear them.

“You are not a member of the defense team,” Amanda said. “You are a reporter and you have no legal right to talk to Charlie.”

“Now wait a minute. This story is huge,” Levy said as he bounced in place with excitement.

“Aren’t you the least bit concerned that Charlie was shot?”

“Hey, I’m sorry he was hurt. Really, I am. But you have no idea how big this story is. I mean, no idea!”

“I know how big you think it is because you’ve told me several times. What you haven’t shown me is any compassion toward any of the people involved. Has it gotten through to you that several people were murdered last night? They’re dead, Dennis.”

“Hey, reporters deal with death all the time. If I got emotionally involved I couldn’t do my job.”

“Your lack of emotional involvement is pretty obvious, but I can’t shut off my emotions. I do care about Sally Pope and Gina and Charlie, who are all human beings. Charlie could have died. I bet that would really have messed up your plans. Now go to the waiting room and don’t bother the police officer anymore. I’ll tell you what I can when I come out.”

Amanda waited until Dennis turned the corner, before approaching the guard.

“I apologize for Mr. Levy. He gets overzealous at times.”

The officer nodded but he still looked angry. When Amanda reentered Charlie’s room he was staring at his blanket, deep in thought.

“There’s something I want to tell you,” Charlie said.

“Go ahead.”

“I was lying here thinking about how I almost died and what I’ve done with my life. Before Freddy went nuts and kidnapped those hostages I was nobody, a petty crook. Then I got to be somebody but it was because I lied.”

“It was because you saved the hostages.”

“You know why I threw myself over that guard? I didn’t give a shit about him. I did it for me. I knew I’d be in jail for life if Freddy killed him. That’s the only reason I did it, to save my skin, not his.

“And that inner light bullshit. That’s all it was, bullshit. I didn’t see any lights when I got shot just now and I didn’t see any when I was stabbed. Mickey Keys thought up that gimmick because it would get me on TV. And he was right. Everyone ate it up, but it never happened. Neither did half the stuff I wrote in my book. Or at least it didn’t happen to me. Freddy committed most of those crimes and was in the fights. I’m a coward. I’ve never gotten into a fight I could run from and I never used a gun or…Well, you get the picture. So, I’ve been thinking. I should set the record straight in my new book. I should tell the truth. If I do, what do you think Dennis will say?”

“I don’t know and, frankly, I don’t care. In the end, you have to do what you think is right, no matter what Levy thinks. Right now, however, you should talk to the police so they can catch the person who killed Sally and tried to kill you.”

Amanda left and Charlie thought about what he’d just said. He could tell the truth about some of the things that he’d lied about, but he wouldn’t tell the whole truth about what had happened at the Westmont Country Club the night Arnold Pope Jr. died, unless he had no choice.

CHAPTER 39

The day after Sally Pope’s murder, the PI in Denver called Kate to tell her he’d located Werner Rollins. Until a month ago, Rollins had been serving time in the Colorado State Penitentiary for armed robbery, but he was currently on parole. Kate talked to Henrietta Swift, Rollins’s parole officer, who called back an hour later to tell Kate that Rollins had agreed to meet her.

During the two-and-a-half-hour flight from Portland to Denver, Dennis Levy didn’t hit on Kate once or brag about how great he was, and he never mentioned how famous he was going to be. He seemed preoccupied as he worked on his laptop or stared out the window. Kate wondered why the reporter was so quiet, but she didn’t want to press her luck by asking.

The meeting with Rollins was at a sports bar near Coors Field. They had a late flight back to Portland, so Kate rented a car at the airport and drove into Denver. It was a spectacular summer day and it took a moment for Kate’s eyes to adjust from the bright midday sunlight to the dim light in the bar, but it didn’t take long to pick out Rollins in the crowd of lunch-time patrons. He was the only man sitting alone at a table in a wheelchair.

Rollins’s parole officer had briefed Kate about the high-speed chase that had led to a prison term for armed robbery and cost Rollins his legs, but she hadn’t prepared Kate for the real toll the accident had taken on the gangster. The Werner Rollins of Kate’s imagination was a meaner version of Conan the Barbarian. There was nothing menacing about the man in the stained Denver Broncos T-shirt who was working on his second pitcher of beer. Despair had beaten the life out of Rollins and hard living had changed the sharp planes of his steroid-enhanced physique into flab.

“Mr. Rollins?” Kate asked as they drew close to his table.

Rollins looked away from the ball game airing on one of the large-screen TVs that were scattered around the bar.

“This is Dennis Levy and I’m Kate Ross, an investigator working for Charlie Marsh. Thank you for taking the time to meet with us.”

“Yeah, well, my social secretary was able to find time for you on my busy schedule, and Henrietta said you’d spring for my beer. It was a no-brainer.”

Kate smiled. “May we?” she asked, indicating one of the chairs at the table.

“Be my guest.”

“Dennis is a reporter. He’s covering Charlie’s trial for World News. Do you have a problem with him sitting in on our conversation?”

Rollins shrugged. Kate had the impression that he didn’t care much about anything anymore.

“So how’s old Charlie doing?” Rollins asked.

“He’s had a rough time. I don’t know how closely you’ve been following his case, but there have been two attempts to kill him. He was shot during the second attempt and he’s in the hospital.”

“That’s tough,” Rollins said without much conviction.

“I understand that you were Charlie’s friend,” Kate said.

“You got that wrong. We were never buddy-buddy. I tolerated him because of Freddy.”

“Freddy Clayton?”

Rollins nodded. “They were like Batman and Robin. Freddy took the little punk everywhere. If I didn’t know Freddy real good I woulda thought they were faggots.” Rollins tossed a quick glance at Dennis, smirked, and added, “No offense.”

Levy reddened but didn’t respond.

“But you knew Charlie pretty well?” Kate said.

“Yeah. It’s like that nursery rhyme, anywhere that Freddy went Charlie was sure to go.”

“Is that why you were at the Westmont Country Club on the evening Congressman Pope was killed? Were you and Gary Hass reconnecting with an old acquaintance?”

Rollins laughed then took a drink from his mug. Kate waited while he used his forearm to wipe the foam from his mouth.

“That thing with Charlie was Gary’s deal. He wanted to shake him down, see if he could scare him into parting with some cash. When Freddy was alive no one would touch Charlie, but Charlie was a rabbit and Gary figured he’d be an easy mark with no one to protect him.”

“You testified for the prosecution at Sally Pope’s trial.”

“I had to, didn’t I? Burdett was threatening me with hard time for fucking up that security guard. With my record, I couldn’t afford to go down again. Charlie was out of the country, so what I said couldn’t hurt him, and I didn’t owe the broad anything.” Rollins shrugged. “It was her or me and I chose me.”

“Mr. Rollins, the state will want you to testify again, and this time what you say could send Charlie to death row. So, let me ask you, if you testify at Charlie’s trial, what will you say?”

Rollins eyed Kate warily. “If I said something I didn’t say the first time I’d be looking at a perjury charge, so I guess I’ll have to say that I saw Charlie shoot Pope.”

“The statute of limitations has run out, Mr. Rollins. You can consult a lawyer on that if you don’t believe me, but I checked. No one can prosecute you if you lied under oath at Sally Pope’s trial.”

Rollins thought about that. “I might say something different,” he told Kate.

“Like what?”

Levy leaned forward, his eyes riveted on Rollins.

“That depends,” Rollins said. “As you may have noticed, I ain’t doing very well. In fact, I’ve got no fucking legs, which makes it hard to get a job.”

Rollins paused and the blatant bribe attempt hung in the air between the convict and the investigator like a Goodyear blimp hovering over a football stadium. Kate smiled and turned her head toward Levy.

“This is off the record, Dennis,” she said.

When Dennis didn’t object, Kate turned back toward Rollins. She had no illusions about the type of man with whom she was dealing. Rollins was a career criminal and a sociopath. Appealing to his better nature was hopeless, because men like Rollins didn’t have better natures. But they were human and they didn’t have to be evil twenty-four hours a day. Kate looked Rollins in the eye and held his gaze long enough for him to figure out she was not someone who scared easily.

“I don’t know what your experience has been with other attorneys,” Kate said in an even, nonjudgmental tone, “but my firm doesn’t pay witnesses for their testimony. We want the truth. If it’s what you testified to at Sally Pope’s trial we’ll have to deal with that. You, on the other hand, will have to live with Charlie’s death sentence if you help convict him and you’re lying.

“I don’t know if that would be easy for you to do, because I know very little about you, but I do know that you’ve suffered and, if you’re a normal human being, I can only hope that you would want to keep someone you know from suffering if you could help them without hurting yourself.”

“I’m not a charity, lady.”

Kate laughed. “I’ve read your rap sheet and a few police reports of your exploits, Mr. Rollins, so I know that’s for sure.”

Rollins hesitated for a moment. Then he smiled. “Yeah, I guess no one would ever confuse me with the Red Cross.”

“They did make for interesting reading,” Kate told him with a conspiratorial grin.

Rollins stopped smiling and his eyes lost focus. “I was something before this,” he said, pointing toward the place where his legs had been.

“Amen to that. And you’ll be something again when Charlie’s case goes to trial. Everyone will be listening to you because you will be a key witness in the case. My question is whether you’ll be the star witness for the state?”

Rollins took a thoughtful sip of beer, then stared at the table top. When he looked up his expression was serious.

“The DA ain’t going to like what I’m going to say. He’s gonna be pissed. But I owe him one because he forced me to lie about Charlie. The truth is I don’t know who shot the congressman. I saw him shot but I was looking at him and not at Charlie, the broad, Gary, or the nigger.”

“What about the gun? Did you see who had the gun?”

Rollins shook his head. “I heard it but I didn’t see it. The shot came from my right so that’s where I looked, but before I looked I heard the gun bounce off the ground and I never saw who tossed it.”

“So you have no idea who fired the shot? No one acted like they had?”

Rollins laughed. “You think I was playing Sherlock Holmes, looking at everyone with a magnifying glass and working out the clues? I know how cops think. They’d have taken one look at me and thrown away the key. Pope’s body hit the ground and Gary and I took off. So did everybody else.”

“Thank you for your honesty, Mr. Rollins,” Kate said.

“So, what happens next?” Rollins asked.

“Nothing from our end. You haven’t said anything that helps or hurts Charlie. Karl Burdett will probably be in touch soon because he’ll think you’re going to make his case. Tell him what you told me and he may threaten you but I don’t think he can do anything to you if you stick to your guns. Don’t take my word for that, though. I’m not a lawyer. I’d advise you to check with one before you talk to Burdett.”

Rollins nodded. “You paying for my beer or would that be some kind of bribe?”

Kate slapped fifty dollars on the table. “It’s been a pleasure, Mr. Rollins. Have some nachos on me.”

Kate blinked when she stepped into the sunshine. Dennis was right behind her. She was surprised that he had not tried to question Rollins for his magazine article. A key witness retracting his story was big news.

“How do you think that went?” Levy asked as they walked to the car.

“It couldn’t have gone better.”

Levy grinned. “My feeling exactly.”

Kate studied Levy closely. Something Rollins had said had gotten Levy excited but she had no idea what it was.

IT TOOK ALL of Dennis’s self-control to keep from bouncing in his seat from excitement during the ride to the airport, but he couldn’t keep his foot from tapping. Kate returned the rental car and they rode the shuttle to the terminal. Then they had to check in and go through security. By the time they got to their gate, Dennis was ready to explode.

“I’m going to hit the john,” he told Kate, forcing himself to sound calm. As he walked down the concourse toward the restrooms, he thought about what he was planning to do and he began to feel light-headed. As soon as he was certain Kate couldn’t see him, Dennis took a few deep breaths. Then he started to punch in Martha Brice’s number on his cell phone. Halfway through, he stopped. If he made the call, there was no turning back. Did he really want to do this? Sure he wanted to be rich and successful, but was this the way to get there?

Dennis’s courage failed him. He cut the connection. His heart was pounding in his chest. Thanks to Werner Rollins, he was certain he knew who had killed Congressman Pope, but how was he going to use that knowledge?

CHAPTER 40

Amanda had a tough time reconciling the colorful flower beds and emerald green lawns that encircled Sally Pope’s mansion and the clear blue sky above it with the bloodshed that had taken place inside. It seemed impossible that life could go on as if nothing had happened, when a tragedy of this proportion occurred, but violent death had been a large part of Amanda’s life long enough for her to know that it did. Even so, she was a little disoriented when her father parked in front of Sally’s home.

Moments after Frank rang the bell, the door was opened by a thick-chested man with unkempt red hair, who looked more like a lumberjack than a writer of literary fiction. He also looked exhausted and terribly sad.

“Thank you for coming,” Liam O’Connell said. “I would have gone to your office but I don’t want to leave Kevin alone. He’s very fragile and I need to be close by.”

“Don’t think about it,” Frank said. “It was no trouble for us to drive out.”

“Let’s talk in the den. I can’t go in there,” O’Connell said, nodding in the direction of the living room.

Amanda couldn’t help casting a quick glance toward the place where Sally Pope had died and she had sat sipping a cold drink and enjoying Sally’s company so recently.

“Do you know about Sally’s will?” the Irishman asked when they were seated in the den.

“No,” Frank answered.

“Jimmy Pavel drew it up. He told me that Kevin inherits everything but Sally named me his guardian.”

“That makes sense,” Frank said. “I visited her while you were in Berkeley. She told me Kevin is very fond of you.”

“It’s mutual. He’s a great kid.”

“On the phone you said you had a problem you wanted to discuss that involved the will,” Frank prodded.

“One of Arnold Pope’s lawyers called me. Pope wants custody of Kevin.”

“What exactly did the lawyer say?”

“There were condolences. Then there was some patter about how difficult it would be to raise a teenage boy by myself, given that I travel so much for my books and my teaching. All very sympathetic but I could see where he was going, so I told him it would be no trouble and I thanked him for his kind thoughts.”

“I’m guessing that the conversation didn’t end there,” Frank said.

“Oh, no. It went on some with a heavy emphasis on Mr. Pope’s concern for me and his grandson and the financial benefits that would accrue to me if I let Mr. Pope raise Kevin.”

“I bet the amount the lawyer mentioned was substantial,” Frank said.

O’Connell nodded. “And it grew as we discussed the matter.”

“What happened when you turned down the offer?”

“Ah, that’s when the threats commenced, all very subtle but unmistakable.”

“What type of threats?”

“A custody battle that would certainly be hard on the poor lad and which I, not being blood kin or even married to Sally, could not possibly win.”

“How did you respond?”

“I told the lawyer that Mr. Pope would be responsible for any psychological harm Kevin endured if he brought the suit and that his attempts to intimidate me or make me feel guilty had failed completely. Then I hung up.

“Fortunately, Sally foresaw the possibility of Pope trying something like this. There’s a provision in the will that specifies that under no circumstances may Arnold Pope Sr. be allowed to have any contact with Kevin. The will permits Kevin’s guardian to use estate funds to protect Kevin in case of a lawsuit, which brings me to my reason for asking you here. Sally had great faith in your legal abilities. She told me how you saved her when she was accused of murdering her husband and she told me how you stymied Mr. Pope’s first attempt to get custody of Kevin. I want you to stop him again.”

“It would be my pleasure, Liam. I can’t think of anything more harmful to Kevin than living with Arnold Pope Sr. I’ll do everything in my power to prevent it.”

O’Connell flashed a smile of relief and the tension that had bunched his shoulders dissipated. “Thank you, Frank. I knew you wouldn’t let Kevin down.”

“Or Sally. I know how much she detested Senior.”

Frank opened his attaché case and took out a legal pad. “If we’re going to prevail, we’ll have to convince the court that there’s no reason to overrule Sally’s wishes. Senior is going to go after you unmercifully, so you’ll have to tell me how he might attack your character and how we can defend it.”

“Mr. O’Connell,” Amanda interjected. “I came here with my father because I’m representing Charlie Marsh. What happened here may impact his case. I’d like your permission to talk to Kevin while you two are conferring.”

The Irishman hesitated.

“I know how badly he’s been affected. But Charlie Marsh is facing the death penalty and Kevin might know something that can help him. I promise I won’t push Kevin. I’ll back off as soon as I see the first sign of a problem. But I’d really appreciate the chance to try to find out if he knows anything that will help clear Charlie’s name.”

O’Connell sighed. “Kevin spoke with the police yesterday. He seemed able to handle it. Go ahead, but please be gentle. This has been awful for him.”

KEVIN WAS LYING on a chaise longue at the side of the pool, dressed in a swim team T-shirt and khaki Bermuda shorts. He had a paperback science fiction novel with him but it was lying facedown across his thigh and he was staring across the water and into space.

Amanda took off her flats and walked barefoot onto the pool deck. The sun was behind her shoulder. Kevin squinted at her then shaded his eyes. Amanda sat next to him on the edge of another lounger.

“Hi, I’m Amanda Jaffe. I was out here about a week ago but we didn’t get a chance to meet.”

Kevin watched her but he didn’t say anything.

Amanda pointed at the T-shirt. “What’s your stroke?”

“The fly,” he answered without enthusiasm.

“Are you varsity?”

Kevin nodded.

“You on a club too or do you just swim for the high school?”

“I work out with Tualatin Hills,” he said, this answer no more animated than his others.

“I swam for them and Wilson High. My best distance was the two-hundred free.”

Kevin looked Amanda in the eye. “Who are you?”

Amanda smiled. “Tired of my small talk?”

Kevin didn’t answer.

“I’m a lawyer. I’m representing Charlie Marsh. Do you know who he is?”

“He was charged with killing my father but he ran away.”

“That’s right. Charlie is the man who came to your house the evening your mother was murdered. You tried to warn him.”

Kevin looked away at the mention of his mother’s murder.

“He’s very grateful, Kevin. A lot of people would have been too scared to try to warn Charlie but you risked your life to do it. That’s the important thing.”

“He still got shot.”

“Sometimes events are out of our control and the best we can do is try.”

Kevin looked away and sobbed. “It’s not fair. She was so good.”

Amanda wanted to say something to comfort Kevin but she knew Sally’s death was too recent for anything she said to help. After a while, the tears stopped. Kevin lay quietly with his eyes shut and his chest heaving.

“Can you tell me what happened in your house?” Amanda said when Kevin’s breathing eased.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“I know you don’t, but someone has made two attempts to kill Charlie. The police are certain he’ll try again. The person who murdered your mother is the man who is after Charlie. You may know something that will help the police catch him.”

“I told them everything I know.”

“Can you tell me?”

Kevin closed his eyes. Then he took a deep breath. “He came into my room. It was dark and he had a mask on, so I can’t tell you what he looked like.”

“That’s okay.”

“He put tape over my mouth. That’s what woke me. I tried to yell, to warn Mom, but I couldn’t.”

“No one could have.”

“I tried but my mouth was taped and he…he had a gun. He said he’d kill Mom if I tried to warn her. I…I believed him, but he killed her anyway.”

Kevin sobbed again and Amanda waited.

“What did this man sound like? Was there anything distinctive about his voice?”

“He whispered when he talked to me. He was trying to disguise his voice.”

“Okay. What happened next?”

“He tied me up and left me. I tried to get out of the tape but I couldn’t. When he came back he told me that he wouldn’t harm me if I did what he said. Then he brought me down to the living room. Mom was tied to a chair. Gina was…she was on the floor.”

Kevin licked his lips and looked off across the pool.

“What happened then?”

“He made Mom call Mr. Marsh. He said he’d shoot me if she didn’t. He told her what to say and she called him. Then we waited. We heard the front door open. That’s when…when he…”

“You don’t have to say it. I know what happened.”

Kevin nodded. He started to cry again.

“Kevin, what did you see when Mr. Marsh came into the living room?”

“I tried to tell him there was a man behind the drapes. I was trying to warn him when the man stepped out and shot Mr. Marsh. Then there was a shot from the front of the living room and the French windows shattered and everyone was shooting.”

“Did you see who saved Mr. Marsh?”

“When the shooting started I threw myself down on the floor. I was facing toward the French windows. I never looked at the door but I saw a reflection in the glass. It was wavy and there wasn’t much light but I think I saw a black man.”

“How sure are you that he was black?” Amanda asked as she tried to picture Nathan Tuazama as Charlie’s guardian angel.

“I’m pretty sure,” Kevin said hesitantly.

“What happened to the man who killed your mother?”

“He ran away. He got out through the windows.”

“Do you know if he was wounded?”

“No. My face was pressed to the floor. I only saw his sneakers when he ran out.”

Amanda could see that Kevin was exhausted and she decided he’d had enough.

“Thank you for talking to me,” she said.

“Did it help?”

“Yes. You’ve cleared up a few things for me.”

But the truth was that Kevin’s story had only muddied the waters. It made sense for Tuazama to keep Charlie alive so he could get the diamonds. But how had he known Charlie would go to Sally’s house in the middle of the night? She guessed it was possible that Tuazama had Charlie’s hotel staked out but it didn’t really make sense that he would be watching the hotel at two in the morning. Tuazama had to sleep.

And why didn’t the killer murder Kevin? Maybe the killer had planned on murdering Kevin and the person who saved Charlie had forced him to run before he could finish off the last witness to his crime. That made sense, but Amanda could think of another explanation for Kevin’s survival that was equally viable.

CHAPTER 41

Amanda went to see Kate as soon as she returned to the law office.

“How did it go in Denver?” she asked.

“Excellent. Rollins admitted lying at Sally Pope’s trial. He claims Burdett pressured him to say he saw Charlie shoot Pope by threatening to go after him for assaulting the security guard. He told me he never saw who fired the shot. There’s a report on your desk.”

“That’s fantastic news. Rollins’s testimony was the only solid evidence against Charlie. Now that he’s retracted it, Burdett may have to drop the charges.”

Suddenly Amanda smiled wickedly.

“Did you have any trouble with the boy wonder?” she asked.

“Not a bit. He didn’t come on to me once during the trip and he didn’t tell me how fantastic he is or brag about how rich and famous he’s going to be. Actually, he kept pretty much to himself.”

“Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth,” Amanda said.

“Yeah, you’re right. So what have you been doing while I’ve been winning your case for you?” Kate asked. Amanda sobered instantly.

“I was at Sally Pope’s house with Dad. Senior is going to sue for custody of Kevin. Liam O’Connell wants Dad to represent him.”

“Did you get a chance to talk to Kevin about what happened when Charlie was shot?”

“Yeah. The poor kid is a mess. He was so upset I cut our talk short.”

“Could he identify anyone?”

“Kevin can say that a man killed his mother, but it was dark and the murderer wore a mask. There was one interesting thing that came out of the interview. Kevin thinks that the person who saved Charlie was black.”

Kate frowned. “There aren’t any African-Americans involved in this case, are there?”

Amanda decided to keep Charlie’s confidences about Nathan Tuazama to herself.

“No African-Americans I’m aware of,” she answered honestly.

Amanda stood up. “I’ve got to work on my other cases or I’m going to get disbarred.”

“See you later,” Kate said.

Amanda started to turn when Kate remembered something she’d meant to ask her friend.

“Say, did you do something with the photograph of Charlie and his entourage at that Dunthorpe estate seminar?” Kate said.

“What photograph?”

“Someone took a picture of Charlie and his people at the seminar in Dunthorpe; the one where he met Sally Pope.”

“I don’t remember seeing it when I went through the file but Burdett will have the original. We can get a copy if you need it.”

“No, it’s not important. I just can’t find it and it’s bugging me.”

“Sorry.”

“I probably put it in a file with a lot of other stuff and just missed it.”

“I’m sure it will turn up. See you later.”

CHARLIE’S CASE HAD come at Amanda so fast that it had dominated her practice. Unfortunately, her other cases had not disappeared and some of them required immediate attention. Amanda worked on a motion for a schoolteacher accused of possessing cocaine until hunger pangs drove her to a nearby Chinese restaurant for takeout. While she shoveled General Tso’s chicken into her mouth in a distinctly unladylike manner, Amanda read through the discovery in a securities fraud case she was handling for a stockbroker who had initially appeared to be honest and forthright but was now looking decidedly shady.

Amanda finished the discovery just as the last rays of sunlight faded behind the West Hills. She was deciding whether to call it a night or tackle another file when her cell phone rang.

“Is this Amanda Jaffe?” a man asked, slurring his words enough so Amanda had a hard time understanding him.

“Who is this?”

“It’s Karl, Karl Burdett. Thank God I caught you. I know it’s late, but we have to talk.”

Amanda frowned. The DA sounded frightened and she was certain he’d been drinking.

“Is something wrong?”

“I need legal advice. I’m in over my head. I didn’t see it until Cordova called me tonight.”

“The FBI agent?”

“You’ve got to help me.”

“Can you tell me what this is about?”

“Not over the phone. Meet me in the parking lot of the Tillamook Tavern.”

“Why there?”

“That’s where I am now. I’m afraid to go home. I’ll be in my car in the last row in the back. It’s dark. No one will see us.”

“I don’t think I can be your lawyer, Karl. We’re adversaries in Charlie’s case.”

“This concerns Charlie. That’s why I called you. Please, you have to help me.”

“Okay, Karl. Calm down. I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

“Thank you. Hurry.”

AS SHE DROVE to the tavern, Amanda tried to figure out why Karl Burdett would ask her for legal advice. After her father, she was the least likely person Burdett would consult if he had legal problems. Before she’d left her office, it had occurred to her that someone might be using Burdett to lure her into a trap similar to the one that had snared Charlie, so she’d slipped a handgun into her pocket. Amanda had been attacked a few times while working a case and she wasn’t going to this meeting unarmed.

The Tillamook Tavern was a squat, one-story workingman’s bar situated on a side street near an industrial park. On the same street were a rundown twenty-four-hour market with bars on its windows, which sold beer, cigarettes, and junk food, and a vacant, rubble-filled lot. Streetlights cast a pale yellow glow over one side of the bar but the only other light came from the neon sign with the tavern’s name and smaller neon signs in the narrow front windows, advertising brands of beer. There were two pickup trucks and a weather-beaten Chevy scattered around the tavern lot. Karl’s car was alone on the edge of a sea of asphalt in the last slot in the last row. When Amanda was a few rows from the DA’s car, she made out Burdett’s silhouette staring through the windshield into the darkness. Amanda parked a car length away. The DA did not look at her. She got out of her car and closed her hand around the grip of her gun. As she drew closer to Burdett’s car, Amanda noticed that the driver’s-side window was down.

“Karl?”

Burdett didn’t react. Amanda’s gut tightened. Something was wrong. She said the DA’s name again. Then she saw why Burdett hadn’t answered. He was staring straight ahead, slack-jawed, and there was a blood-rimmed bullet hole in his temple.

MIKE GREENE’S BLUE eyes were usually clear but were presently bloodshot, because he’d been awakened from a deep sleep. He parked on the street in front of the Tillamook Tavern, then walked around back, where he talked to the first officer on the scene and the forensic experts who were processing it. When he’d seen enough, he went inside the tavern and found Amanda in a booth in the rear of the bar. Sitting across from her was Billie Brewster, a slim black woman with close-cropped hair, dressed in jeans, a black Tupac Shakur memorial T-shirt, and Mercury running shoes. Billie, one of the top homicide detectives in the Portland Police Bureau, had been the investigating officer in several of Amanda’s cases and they had become good friends.

“This is a pretty extreme way of getting a date, Jaffe,” Mike said as he pulled a chair up to the booth and straddled it.

“Hey, bozo, your woman’s shook up,” Brewster said, “so can the gallows humor.”

“How are you doing?” Mike asked, suddenly serious.

“I’m okay. It’s not like I haven’t seen a dead man before. It was just a shock finding him.” Amanda shook her head. “I never liked Karl. He could be a pompous ass. But I’d never wish anything like this on him. If only I’d gotten here sooner, I might have scared off the person who shot him.”

“Or gotten yourself killed,” Brewster said.

“How did you happen to be the one who found him?” Mike asked, and Amanda told him about the phone call.

“And you have no idea what he wanted to tell you?” Greene asked when she was through.

“Only that it had something to do with Charlie Marsh.”

Amanda paused. “There is something.” She hesitated.

“Yes,” Mike prodded.

“Burdett has been acting…” She paused again. “I guess ‘weird’ is a good way to describe his behavior.”

“Weird?” Mike repeated.

Amanda told Mike and Billie about the bail hearing.

“I was really surprised when he didn’t fight Charlie’s bail and I couldn’t understand why he seemed upset when he conceded the issue. If he didn’t want Charlie out on bail all he had to do was contest my motion. What with Charlie skipping the country initially and this being a murder case, Karl would have had a good chance of convincing Judge Berkowitz to deny bail altogether.”

Amanda paused again as she reran Burdett’s actions at the bail hearing through her memory.

“You know, now that I think about it, Karl behaved more like a subordinate who was carrying out an order he didn’t agree with than the district attorney of the county, the man in charge. And there was the way he acted when he learned that a sniper had taken a shot at Charlie. He was much more upset than I would have thought he’d be.”

“I’d be very upset if someone tried to commit murder in front of the Multnomah County courthouse,” Mike said.

“I know. Anyone would. But Karl…I don’t know how to describe it. I just had the feeling that there was more to his reaction than simple anger or sympathy for Charlie.”

Amanda closed her eyes and sighed. “I’m beat, Mike. If you and Billie don’t need me I’d like to go home.”

“I took her statement,” Brewster told Mike as she stood up. “And I know where to find you if I need anything else,” she said to Amanda, “so I’ll leave you lovebirds alone.”

“Do you want me to stay over?” Mike asked as soon as the detective was out of earshot.

“Yeah, that would be nice. I really don’t want to be alone tonight.”

“Okay, let me check with the ME. Then we can head out.”

AMANDA PEELED OFF her clothes as soon as she was in her condo. Then she flossed and brushed her teeth as quickly as possible before staggering into bed. Mike tucked her in and she fell into a deep, dreamless sleep. The prosecutor made a few calls in the living room to check on the progress of the investigation before going back to the bedroom. Mike and Amanda had grown close during the past year and he smiled as he watched her sleep. Then his exhaustion caught up to him and he crawled into bed beside her, falling asleep soon after he closed his eyes.

Shortly after three in the morning, Amanda’s subconscious set off an alarm that jerked her awake. Karl Burdett had said something during his call that Amanda had forgotten to tell Billie Brewster and Mike Greene and she suddenly remembered what it was. She was tempted to wake Mike but he was sleeping so soundly that she crept out of bed, not wanting to disturb him. Her cell phone was in her purse on the kitchen counter along with the card Daniel Cordova had given her. Amanda walked as far from the bedroom as she could and used the light from the phone to read the number on the card.

“Agent Cordova, this is Amanda Jaffe,” she said as soon as the FBI agent answered the phone. “Have you heard what happened tonight?”

“Happened to what?” Cordova answered. He sounded groggy and annoyed, which didn’t surprise Amanda.

“Karl Burdett was shot to death.”

“Dear God!” Cordova said, instantly awake.

“I was working late. Karl called me. He was very upset and he sounded like he’d been drinking. He said he was in over his head. He also said that he hadn’t realized that he was in over his head until he talked to you. Can you think of something you said to Karl that frightened him?”

“No.” Cordova sounded puzzled. “I did talk to him but it was a courtesy call.”

“I don’t understand.”

“We arrested Gary Hass in Sacramento. He was part of the muscle for a large heroin sale and we swept him up when we made the collar. It turns out he was in California when the sniper shot at your client. I called so Burdett wouldn’t waste time on a dead end.”

“And that’s all you talked about?”

“Yes. It was a short conversation.”

Amanda talked to the agent for a few more minutes, then she hung up. It wasn’t obvious at first why Cordova’s information about Hass had shaken up Karl Burdett but the germ of an idea was beginning to form.

MIKE GREENE BEGAN to get suspicious when the aroma of freshly brewed coffee woke him from a sound sleep. His suspicions grew when he wandered into the dining area of Amanda’s loft and found a glass of orange juice waiting at a table setting. A full-blown alarm sounded when Amanda asked him what kind of omelet he wanted for breakfast.

Amanda wasn’t a terrible cook but Mike knew she didn’t like to spend time in the kitchen. When he stayed over, they usually ate out or he fixed breakfast. If she was up early cooking for him, Mike was certain it meant she wanted something he wouldn’t want to give her.

“What’s going on?” he asked.

“Can’t I make you a nice breakfast without you getting suspicious?”

Mike folded his arms across his broad chest and stared at Amanda until she blushed.

“Okay, I do have an ulterior motive, but I also wanted to thank you for being so nice to me last night.”

“Taking care of you was my pleasure. Now, please drop the other shoe.”

Amanda plopped down across from Mike. She looked sexy with her hair mussed, dressed only in a T-shirt and panties.

“You know Karl’s murder is connected to the Marsh case, right?”

“That’s a possibility. But it could be a random killing,” Mike said.

“Was Karl robbed?”

“He had his wallet, rings, and an expensive watch, but you could have scared off the killer when you drove into the lot. The killing could still be coincidental.”

“You don’t really believe that, do you?” Amanda asked.

“I don’t know what to believe. It’s too early in the investigation to draw any conclusions.”

“You should get Karl’s files in Sally Pope’s and Charlie’s case. There may be notations in them that will explain why he called me.”

“I was intending to do just that.”

“Why don’t you let me see them so I can point out things you might not realize are important.”

Mike looked shocked. “You’re kidding, right?”

“I’m dead serious.”

“Is there some reason you want me fired and disbarred?”

“What do you know about Charlie’s case?” Amanda asked.

“Not much. I know it was a big deal up here, and I remember reading about it when I was living in California.”

“I’ve been living this case almost nonstop and my Dad tried Pope. I can spot things in the file you might miss.”

“Amanda, you may be shocked to learn that I’ve actually gotten up to speed on other people’s cases before. And I’ve done it without violating the rules of professional conduct. Do you understand what would happen if anyone discovered that I let you read the files of the attorney who was prosecuting your client? And I wouldn’t be the only person in trouble. You’d be riding the elevator to hell with me.”

Amanda smiled coquettishly. “That’s so literary.”

“Don’t try your womanly wiles on me. Flattery, the batting of eyelashes, and come-hither stares are not going to work. This is too serious.”

Amanda stopped smiling. “Now you’ve got it, Mike. This is damned serious. Someone’s tried to murder Charlie twice and they succeeded in killing Sally Pope, her personal assistant, and her dog. Now they’ve killed the DA prosecuting Charlie’s case. You need all the help you can get and I’m willing to risk my career to get the bastard who’s doing this. If I help nail him, I don’t care what rules of professional conduct I violate.”

CHAPTER 42

Derrick Barclay had not changed much over the years, Frank thought, as Arnold Pope’s personal assistant ushered him into a sitting room at the rear of Pope’s mansion.

“Make yourself comfortable. I’ll tell Mr. Pope you’re here,” Barclay said before shutting the door. The curtains were drawn and the subdued lighting from a small ceiling fixture gave the room a closed-in, musty feel. Most of the furnishings were antiques and Frank would not have been surprised to learn that white sheets had covered them until shortly before his visit. He also thought that he should probably not be here, but his curiosity had gotten the best of him. When Barclay invited him to meet with his employer, Frank had been surprised and suspicious. Barclay claimed to know only that the meeting concerned Kevin Pope and Pope’s lawyer in the custody matter would not be present. When Frank told Barclay that it was improper for him to meet with a represented party without the party’s lawyer, Barclay said that Mr. Pope had prepared a notarized waiver in anticipation of Frank’s objection. Frank had thought that over, then agreed to come. Now he wondered if he would regret his decision.

Frank waited for his host in a comfortable armchair across from a small marble fireplace. After a while, he glanced at his watch and realized that only five minutes had passed. There was a narrow, floor-to-ceiling bookshelf next to the fireplace. Frank was about to inspect Pope’s library when the door opened and Pope hobbled in.

“Thank you for coming, Mr. Jaffe.”

Frank noted the tremor in the older man’s voice and the difficulty he had navigating across the room to the armchair opposite Frank. When he lowered himself onto the chair, he grimaced.

“Why am I here, Mr. Pope?”

Senior stared at Frank, irritated that his guest had taken control by skipping the usual pleasantries that preceded a business meeting.

“I see you like to get right to the point.”

“Which is?”

“You are ideally situated to perform a service for me, which will bring me great satisfaction and will bring you a substantial reward.”

“Go on.”

“I understand you’re representing Liam O’Connell in the guardianship contest.”

Frank nodded. Pope shook his head slowly.

“What a sad affair. Poor Sally. We definitely had our differences, some quite vehement, but she was a fighter and I admired her spunk. She probably didn’t know that.”

Frank didn’t respond. If Pope was trying to convince him that he was sorry that Sally was dead, he was failing. Frank knew how Pope really felt about his daughter-in-law and no phony show of sympathy was going to change his mind.

“I regret very much that Sally saw fit to cut herself off from me after my son’s tragic death,” Pope continued.

“If I remember correctly, Mr. Pope, you had something to do with that.”

“You’re completely correct, Mr. Jaffe. My son’s death was a crushing experience. I was not rational at times after he passed and my grief interfered with my judgment. When Sally was indicted for Arnold’s death I focused my hatred on her and I saw the dismissal of the charges against her as a personal affront.

“After the dismissal-after I had gotten my emotions in check-I hired a team of investigators to review the case. They concluded that there was a strong possibility that Sally had been unjustly accused.”

Frank noted that Pope had conveniently managed to forget his involvement in the false accusations and the manufactured evidence that had led to Sally’s indictment. He was tempted to remind him about the photographs and the note that had lured his son to his death, as well as the strong evidence that Otto Jarvis had been bribed to lie at Sally’s trial, but he decided to hold his tongue.

“I made numerous attempts over the years to apologize and I made many offers to renew our friendship, all of which, to my sorrow, she rebuffed.” Pope lowered his eyes and made a show of contrition. “I can’t say I blame her.”

“Where is all of this breast-beating leading, Mr. Pope?”

A flash of anger was Frank’s reward for his blunt question, but Pope mastered his emotions quickly.

“I am very concerned about my grandson. Sally kept us apart as punishment for the way I treated her, but I love Arnie very much…”

“Sally’s son is named Kevin,” Frank interrupted, eliciting another flash of anger from Pope.

“Yes, Mr. Jaffe. His legal name is Kevin. My son wanted to name him Arnold Pope III but Sally named him Kevin to spite me. I bear her no grudge for that but he will always be Arnie to me.”

“You were getting to the point of our meeting,” Frank prodded.

“Sally designated Liam O’Connell as Kevin’s guardian in her will, but he has no right to be the boy’s guardian. He and Sally never married, he’s not kin.”

“Kevin looks up to Mr. O’Connell and he’s very fond of Kevin. From what I’ve seen, Mrs. Pope made a good choice.”

“Kevin may be fond of this Irishman, but he has my blood in his veins.”

“If I remember correctly, you and I discussed the possibility of you becoming Kevin’s guardian shortly after Mrs. Pope’s trial. Have you forgotten why your attorney advised you to drop your plans for a custody battle?”

Senior flashed a malevolent smile. “You mean your contention that I bribed Otto Jarvis and had something to do with that Rodriguez person, who took the pictures of Sally and her convict friend? Maybe you haven’t heard, but Otto Jarvis passed away, a heart attack, I believe. And Mr. Rodriguez was shot to death in an alley. Something to do with a drug deal gone bad. So you would no longer be able to produce witnesses to support your allegations. But why bring up Sally’s trial? It’s old news.”

“I still don’t understand why I’m here.”

“You’re representing Mr. O’Connell, so you are in an excellent position to influence him. I want to adopt Kevin. He would be my heir. Surely you see the advantage to the boy in that. I want you to convince your client to turn down the guardianship and support my claim to be the boy’s adoptive father.”

“Why would I do that?”

“I have occasional need for an attorney with your talents, Mr. Jaffe. Obviously, I couldn’t retain you or your firm while you’re representing Mr. O’Connell in this matter, because of the conflict of interest that would create. However, if this business is concluded swiftly and favorably, the conflict would cease and I would be able to put your firm on a very healthy retainer.”

Frank stared directly at Senior. Senior didn’t blink.

“You don’t see anything wrong in the offer you just made?”

“None whatsoever.”

“Some people might interpret it as a bribe.”

“Nonsense. It’s to my advantage to have the very best legal talent at my disposal.”

Frank smiled. “I appreciate the compliment, Mr. Pope, but I’m going to turn you down.”

“That might not be wise. If you don’t assist me I may have to contact the bar with some disturbing information I’ve had in my possession for some time. I would be very upset if I was unable to retain you because you were no longer permitted to practice law.”

All of Frank’s tolerance for Pope’s clumsy attempt to corrupt him disappeared instantly, and Frank fixed his host with an icy stare.

“Why wouldn’t I be able to practice law, Mr. Pope?”

Senior pulled a photograph of Frank and Sally Pope going into her home at night out of his inside jacket pocket.

“The bar frowns on affairs between a lawyer and his client. I have numerous pictures of you and Arnie’s wife together during and after her trial and investigators who will swear before a disciplinary panel that you left my daughter-in-law’s house in the small hours of the morning on many occasions.”

Frank stood up. “You’re going to have a hard time convincing the bar that I wasn’t conferring with Mrs. Pope about her legal affairs, but do your worst. I’ve never sold out a client and this definitely will not be the case where I start.”

“You’re making a big mistake.”

“No, Mr. Pope, you are. If you come after me, do not think for one moment that I won’t come right back at you.”

CHAPTER 43

I can’t believe I’m doing this,” Mike Greene said as he carried two duffel bags loaded with Karl Burdett’s files in the Pope and Marsh cases into Amanda’s condo shortly after seven in the evening. Amanda gave him a big kiss on the cheek.

“You’re a prince,” she said as she picked up one of the bags and carried it into the living room. Amanda’s romance with Mike Greene had been rocky at times, but that had always been her fault, especially when she’d been traumatized by the events in the Cardoni case. What made her love Mike was his consistency. He was always there for her and he never judged her, even when she was at her worst.

“I would have been over earlier but I had to wait until everyone left, so no one would see me smuggling this stuff out,” he told Amanda as he hauled his bag to the couch and opened it.

“I’ll go through these files and you go through yours,” Amanda said as she sat on the floor. “Then let’s switch.”

“I assume you made coffee,” Mike said as he started pulling folders out of his bag, “because we have to get through this tonight so I can get the files back to the office in the morning before anyone gets in.”

“Fresh coffee and doughnuts are on the counter. I even bought some maple bars,” she added, naming Mike’s favorite guilty pleasure.

“It’s going to take more than a maple bar to get back in my good graces,” he grumbled.

“I’ll see what I can do, if we’re not too tired,” Amanda promised as she stacked manila folders in front of her.

IT WAS TEN o’clock and several cups of coffee later when Amanda and Mike got ready to swap.

“Did you find anything in your files or Burdett’s notes that was helpful?” Mike asked.

“No,” she said, disappointed, “though I did find something that I don’t understand.”

Amanda carried a folder to the couch and sat next to Mike. He opened it.

“This looks like a master file,” Mike said. “It has copies of the pleadings, correspondence.”

“That’s what I figured, but what’s this?” she said, pointing to a line on a log sheet that was stapled to the left inside cover. “A lot of the entries were made twelve years ago, but look at this entry.” Amanda pointed at the numbers and letter: 1253X. “It was made yesterday. Do you know what it means?”

“Sure. Washington County wanted to have a copy of the file to work on while we were looking at Karl’s original file. That’s a record of the number of pages that were copied. The file is a little more than twelve hundred pages long.”

“Okay, that’s what I figured. But look at this entry,” Amanda said, pointing to an earlier, recent entry that read 1209X.

“That probably refers to another copy of the file,” Mike said.

“Yeah, but see the date and time the copies were made? That’s the afternoon of the day I visited Hillsboro and told Burdett that Charlie was returning to Oregon to face the charges against him.”

“I don’t see where you’re going. I usually make a copy of my file so I can break it up when I make files for individual witnesses.”

“If the office had a duplicate file when you asked them to make a copy, why did they need another one?”

Mike’s brow furrowed.

“On the day I told him Charlie was returning to face trial, I think Karl made a copy of his complete file for someone who is not in the DA’s office.”

“Who would want something like that?”

“Remember I told you how upset Burdett was when the sniper took his shot at Charlie?”

“Yeah.”

“I think Burdett might have been killed because he put two and two together and came up with Arnold Pope as the man behind the assassination attempt on Charlie and the murders at Sally Pope’s house.”

“That’s some stretch, Amanda.”

“With Gary Hass out of the picture, who other than Senior would want Charlie dead? Revenge is an obvious motive for the attack at the courthouse. Arnold Pope Sr. could order Burdett to make a copy of the case file and expect to be obeyed. He could order Burdett to set free the man he held responsible for his son’s murder so he would be out of jail, where an assassin could take a shot at him.”

Mike frowned.

“I’m certain Sally Pope was used to lure Charlie out of his hotel so he could be killed after the first attempt at the courthouse failed,” Amanda went on. “If Charlie’s mysterious savior hadn’t appeared on the scene, Sally and Charlie would have died. Pope is the only person I can think of who would want both of them dead.”

As she spoke, an image of Nathan Tuazama flashed through her brain, but she decided to keep that information confidential. Besides, Tuazama wouldn’t kill Charlie before he had the diamonds.

“It’s a stretch, Amanda, and you haven’t given me any hard evidence to work with.”

“You’re right about the proof part but you have to admit my idea makes sense. When Agent Cordova told Burdett that Gary Hass couldn’t have been the sniper, I think Burdett realized that Pope was behind the attempt on Charlie at the courthouse. What if he confronted Pope? What if Pope became worried that Burdett would tell someone his theory? Pope could have had the same person who murdered Sally take care of Burdett.”

“That’s a lot of what ifs.”

“What about Kevin?”

“Sally’s son?”

“Why isn’t he dead, Mike? Arnold Pope Sr. is obsessed with getting custody of his grandson. The person who killed Sally also killed her personal assistant and her dog but he never hurt Kevin. I think Kevin is alive because Arnold Pope ordered the killer to make certain that he survived unharmed.”

“You’ve given me a lot to think about,” Mike said.

Amanda thought of something else, the photograph of Karl Burdett and Tony Rose carrying hunting rifles that she’d seen in the DA’s office.

“Are you ready to switch files?” Mike asked.

“Yeah,” she answered, still distracted by her epiphany. She decided that she would keep this idea to herself until she talked it over with Kate.

“Why don’t we just trade places?” Mike said.

“Good idea.”

Mike sat on the floor and Amanda went to the couch. At 11:25, she was going through a stack of photographs when she came across the original of the photograph of Charlie Marsh and his entourage at the Dunthorpe mansion, which Kate had told her was missing. She picked it up and studied it. She had met Mickey Keys and Charlie but it was interesting to see what Delmar Epps looked like. As she studied Epps, her eyes strayed to his waist. The bodyguard was wearing a loose jacket. He was in mid-stride and the movement of his body had brought the fabric out and back. Amanda brought the photo to eye level. Yes, she could make out the butt of a revolver. Then she saw something else in the photograph. Her breath caught in her chest and she knew why the photograph was missing and who had taken it. When Mike wasn’t looking, Amanda slipped the photograph under the cushion on the couch.

CHAPTER 44

Mike and Amanda got to bed a little before one, too exhausted for the second night in a row to do anything but sleep. The couple kept changes of clothes at each other’s condos and Mike was showered and shaved at five in the morning so he could get into his office with the files without being seen.

Amanda tried to go back to sleep after Mike left but questions raised by last night’s revelations bombarded her. Was Arnold Pope the mastermind behind these murders? Was Tony Rose the sniper? And there was the photograph from the Dunthorpe seminar. Charlie could help her there, so Amanda showered, dressed, and headed for the hospital.

When she arrived, Charlie was sitting up in bed.

“Have you heard about Karl Burdett?”

“It was on the news but they didn’t say anything except that he’d been shot and you found him. How did that happen?”

Amanda told Charlie about the phone call.

“Do you have any idea why Burdett wanted to see you?” Charlie asked when Amanda finished her recap of the night’s events.

“He didn’t say.”

“But he said it was about me, about the case?”

Amanda nodded.

“What’s going to happen now that Burdett is dead?”

“You’re still under indictment. An interim DA will be appointed-probably Wanda Simmons, the chief criminal deputy-and someone will be assigned to prosecute the case.”

“They’ll still go after me after all that’s happened?”

“Werner Rollins did retract his testimony, so they don’t have any direct evidence that you shot Pope. I’ll try to convince the DA that enough questions have been raised to warrant a dismissal.”

“What about all these people who’ve been trying to kill me? Shouldn’t that make them think they’ve got the wrong man?”

“You’re on trial for a murder that happened twelve years ago. There’s no hard evidence that the current rash of murders has anything to do with the congressman’s murder.”

“Come on. It’s obvious.”

“The only thing that’s obvious is that someone is after you. That could be because they think you murdered Arnold Pope Jr. and they want revenge.”

“You mean Arnie’s father?”

Amanda nodded. “I think there’s a good possibility that he hired someone to kill you.”

“Who?”

“I don’t want to say right now, but I’ve seen the list of witnesses Pope is calling at the guardianship contest, so I might know more after the hearing.”

“You think there’s a tie-in between Senior’s attempt to get custody of Kevin, Junior’s murder, and the attempts on my life?”

“I think it’s possible, but I’m open to suggestions. Besides Senior, can you think of someone else who might want you dead?”

Charlie looked nervous. “No. I mean there’s Tuazama, but-like I said-I don’t think he’d kill me until he got the diamonds.”

“So, you can’t think of anyone else?”

“No.”

Amanda opened her attaché case and took out a manila envelope. Inside the envelope was the photograph she’d stolen from Karl Burdett’s file. She took it out and laid it on top of the blanket on Charlie’s bed.

CHAPTER 45

The Honorable Maria Gomez took the bench and the parties in the case of In re Kevin Pope stood until she was seated. Judge Gomez was in her mid-forties. The wiry six-foot jurist had played on the LPGA tour until she gave up golf for law school. Then she’d brought her competitive drive to the legal profession, where she’d been one of the top domestic-relations lawyers in Oregon before the current governor elevated her to the bench. She was a no-nonsense judge who liked to move cases along and she disliked lawyers who were unprepared or wasted her time.

Sitting at one counsel table next to Arnold Pope Sr. was Andrew Curry, a stoop-shouldered, balding attorney with a skeletal build. Curry was nicknamed “the Vampire” because of the ruthless way he practiced law and a bloodless complexion that was the result of long hours spent indoors working on ways to win divorce and custody battles for his clients. Curry wore the nickname with pride. Nobody liked him but everybody recommended him to a spouse who wanted an ex destroyed, destitute, and demoralized.

Frank Jaffe sat across the aisle from Pope and Curry, and Amanda sat next to her father so they could confer. Liam O’Connell was next to Amanda. Kevin was not present, because custody hearings were often wars of character assassination and the accusations of biased witnesses were best left unheard by the child who would have to live with one of the maligned parties.

“Let me see if I understand the background of this case, Mr. Jaffe,” Judge Gomez said. “Sally Pope was Kevin Pope’s mother and Arnold Pope Jr. was his father. Mr. Pope passed away twelve years ago and Mrs. Pope raised her son until her recent death. Mr. O’Connell lived with Mrs. Pope and Kevin for approximately five years before her death. In her will, Mrs. Pope named Mr. O’Connell as Kevin’s guardian and Mr. O’Connell filed a petition requesting me to appoint him Kevin’s guardian.”

“That’s correct, Your Honor,” Frank Jaffe said. “I also want to make sure that you know that it was Mrs. Pope’s specific wish-which she spelled out in her will-that Arnold Pope Sr. never be allowed to be Kevin’s guardian. She was adamant while alive, and in her will, that Mr. Pope Sr. should never have contact with her son.”

“I’m aware of that and I will consider Mrs. Pope’s wishes very seriously when I make my decision. But I’m not bound by them. My main concern is the best interests of the child, Kevin Pope.”

The judge turned her attention to Senior and his attorney. “Mr. Curry, your client filed objections to Mr. O’Connell’s petition seeking guardianship and today I’m going to decide who will be appointed Kevin’s temporary guardian until a full-fledged hearing can be held. Is that correct?”

“Yes, Your Honor.”

“Then it seems to me that Mr. Pope has the burden of proof, since the will asks the court to appoint Mr. O’Connell as Kevin’s guardian.”

Curry stood so rapidly that Judge Gomez had the impression that she had missed part of the transition from seat to feet. It was like watching a film from which several of the frames had been removed.

“Your Honor, I respectfully disagree with your holding. We believe that Mr. O’Connell should bear the burden of convincing this court that he should be appointed Kevin’s guardian. Oregon law recognizes that grandparents have substantial interests in their grandchildren. A sexual partner with no blood ties to the child should not be granted superior rights to a grandparent.

“Furthermore, we take issue with Mr. Jaffe’s position that Mrs. Pope’s rabid and unjustified dislike of my client should play any part in the court’s decision.”

“I appreciate your position, Mr. Curry. I may be wrong on the issue of who bears the burden. If I am, the appellate court will straighten me out. But you brought this petition challenging the will, so I’m holding that you have the burden of convincing me that Mr. O’Connell should not be appointed Kevin’s temporary guardian. Are you ready with your first witness?”

BEFORE THE NOON recess, a child psychiatrist, who had been hired by Senior, testified that he would make an excellent guardian for Kevin. Then Curry called several prominent Oregonians, including one of Oregon’s United States senators, who testified to their belief that Arnold Pope Sr. loved his late son and his grandson and would make an excellent guardian for Kevin. During cross-examination, Frank Jaffe established that each witness was biased by a financial or personal relationship with Senior. He also got them to admit that they knew nothing about Liam O’Connell’s fitness to raise the boy.

As soon as court reconvened after lunch, Judge Gomez told Curry to call his next witness. Tony Rose straightened the jacket of his charcoal black pinstripe suit, adjusted his maroon silk tie, and walked to the witness stand looking every bit the successful business executive.

“Mr. Rose, what is your profession?” Curry asked after the witness was sworn.

“I’m the president of Mercury Enterprises. We manufacture sporting equipment.”

“Your company also sponsors the Mercury training program for our Olympic athletes, does it not?”

“Yes, sir. There are several American athletes who have earned Olympic medals after taking advantage of our training facilities.”

“Can you please tell the judge a little about the activities of Mercury worldwide?”

“That won’t be necessary, Mr. Curry,” Judge Gomez said. “I’m well aware of who Mr. Rose is and what Mercury does. I doubt that there’s a person in Oregon, or the United States for that matter, who can’t identify the Mercury logo.”

“Very well, Your Honor. Mr. Rose, are you acquainted with Arnold Pope Sr.?”

“I am.”

“How long have you known him?”

“More than ten years.”

“What is Mr. Pope’s reputation in the business community of this state?”

“Well, if I might, I think ‘state’ is too narrow. I would say that his reputation for integrity is something people across the nation are aware of.”

“Have you ever had occasion to discuss Arnold Pope Jr. with him?”

“Yes, sir. He was devastated by the loss of his son. He still is.”

“Has he ever discussed his grandson, Kevin Pope, with you?”

“Yes, sir. I am hard pressed to say what has affected him more, the death of his son or Sally Pope’s decision to cut off all contact between Mr. Pope and his grandson.”

“Do you think Mr. Pope would make a suitable guardian for his grandson?”

“Unquestionably. He loves the boy very much and would be able to give him all the advantages of his name and position.”

“Your witness, Mr. Jaffe,” Curry said.

“Your Honor, my co-counsel will handle the cross-examination of this witness.”

“Very well, Miss Jaffe,” Judge Gomez said.

“Thank you, Your Honor,” Amanda replied before turning her attention to Tony Rose.

“Mr. Rose, your company’s brochure, television commercials, and magazine and Internet ads portray you as a sportsman. Is that accurate?”

“Yes.”

“You were a top high school tennis player before you joined the army?”

“Yes.”

“And you were good enough to reach the quarterfinals of the NCAA Division I championships as a senior at Ohio State?”

“That’s true.”

“Then you played professionally for two years before becoming the club pro at the Westmont Country Club?”

“Also true.”

“There are television commercials for Mercury Enterprises that show you volleying with Wimbledon and U.S. Open champion Gary Posner.”

“Yes, but I don’t do nearly as well when the cameras aren’t rolling,” Rose answered. Judge Gomez smiled and several spectators laughed.

“Don’t other commercials show you hunting and fishing in the forests of Oregon?”

“That’s true.”

“Do you enjoy those sports?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Are tennis, hunting, and fishing types of activities that interest adolescent boys?”

“Some boys enjoy them,” Rose answered cautiously, sensing a trap.

“Mr. Pope isn’t capable of playing tennis, is he?”

Rose hesitated. Then he said, “No.”

“He can’t hunt or fish or engage in any type of strenuous activity because he’s in his seventies and has a number of physical infirmities?”

“Objection,” Curry shouted. “Mr. Rose is not a doctor.”

“I’m asking Mr. Rose to testify about what he’s seen,” Amanda argued. “A layman can tell if someone limps or is blind.”

“Overruled,” the judge said. “You can answer, Mr. Rose.”

“Mr. Pope is not as spry as he was when I first met him.”

“When was that? When did you first meet Mr. Pope?”

Rose frowned. “I’m not sure of the exact date.”

“It was after his son was murdered, wasn’t it?”

“Yes, I think that’s right.”

“And before you started Mercury?”

“Yes.”

“That’s about twelve years ago, right after his son was murdered?”

“Yes.”

“Is it fair to say that twelve years ago Mr. Pope was a captain of industry and you were an unemployed tennis instructor?”

“That’s fair,” Rose agreed.

“Then how did you meet? You didn’t exactly run in the same social circles.”

“I…It’s been a while. I don’t actually remember.”

“You must have hit it off pretty well, because Mr. Pope gave you the start-up money for Mercury.”

“I can’t really discuss that. We’re a privately held corporation and our books are not open to the public.”

“They are now, Mr. Rose. You’re under oath in a court of law and I asked the question to show possible bias on your part in favor of the party who called you to the stand.”

“Objection,” Curry started.

“No, Mr. Curry,” the judge ruled. “Miss Jaffe is entitled to show bias on the part of the witness you called. Please answer the question, Mr. Rose.”

Rose looked very uncomfortable. He shot a quick glance at Senior, but the old man looked right through him.

“Mr. Pope did help me start Mercury.”

“Does he hold a controlling interest in the company?”

“Yes.”

“So you serve as its president at his will? He could fire you if he wanted to?”

“The company is doing very well and I’m its spokesman, so there would be no reason for him to do that.”

“But he could if he wanted to?”

“I guess he could.”

“Was Mr. Pope’s initial investment in Mercury substantial?” Amanda asked.

“Yes.”

“Without giving a specific figure, would it be correct to say that Mr. Pope’s initial investment was in the seven-figure range?”

“Yes. That sounds correct.”

“Why would Mr. Pope give you so much money?”

“He liked my idea for a sporting goods company. He was farsighted and was able to see the company’s potential.”

“I didn’t make myself clear, Mr. Rose. I meant, wasn’t it strange, if he truly loved his son, that he would give so much money to the man who was sleeping with his son’s wife?”

Rose colored but kept his composure. “I’m not proud of that and I told Mr. Pope I wasn’t. But I also told him that Mrs. Pope had asked me to kill his son and I refused. I believe Mr. Pope appreciated that.”

“We only have your word that Sally Pope asked you to kill her husband, don’t we?”

“Objection, Your Honor,” Curry said. “The question has no relevance to a custody proceeding.”

“I’ll tie it up, Your Honor,” Amanda promised.

“I’ll let you go on a little more,” the judge ruled.

“Didn’t Mr. Pope hate his daughter-in-law?”

“They didn’t get along.”

“He wanted her executed for his son’s murder, didn’t he?”

“I don’t know anything about that.”

“Your testimony was the strongest and most dramatic evidence directly tying Mrs. Pope to her husband’s murder, wasn’t it?”

“I’m not sure. I don’t know all of the evidence the district attorney had.”

“Was the start-up money for Mercury a payoff for lying at Sally Pope’s trial?”

“No! Absolutely not.”

“You would certainly have benefited if Sally Pope had been found guilty, wouldn’t you?”

“I don’t see how.”

“That would have closed the case, as far as the police were concerned. The authorities would peg Charlie Marsh as the shooter and Mrs. Pope as his coconspirator and they wouldn’t look any further.”

“I’m not following you.”

“Permission to approach the witness,” Amanda said.

“You may,” Judge Gomez said.

A good cross-examiner changes the direction of her questions frequently to keep the witness off balance. Amanda handed Rose the photograph of him and Karl Burdett holding their hunting rifles that she’d seen hanging in Burdett’s office.

“Do you recognize this photograph?”

“Yes. It shows me hunting with Karl Burdett.”

“You’re quite a good shot, aren’t you?”

“I’m okay,” Rose answered nervously.

“Don’t be modest, Mr. Rose. You were given the grade of marksman in the army, were you not?”

“Yes.”

“So you know how to hit a target with a sniper rifle from a long distance?”

“Well, I did, many years ago.”

“Are you rusty?”

“I don’t think I can make some of the shots I made in the military.”

“Is that why you missed Charlie Marsh when you tried to kill him at the courthouse?”

Rose looked shocked. “I did no such thing!”

“Objection,” Curry bellowed so he could be heard over the din in the courtroom.

“You’re on very thin ice here, Miss Jaffe,” Judge Gomez said. “These are very serious accusations.”

“I will tie this up, Your Honor,” Amanda promised.

“I’ll let you continue, but I will cut you off if I conclude you’re fishing.”

“Your Honor, Mr. Rose can cut me off by pleading the Fifth,” Amanda shot back.

Judge Gomez considered what Amanda had just said. Then she turned to the witness.

“Miss Jaffe is correct, Mr. Rose. If at any time you believe that your answer to Miss Jaffe’s question would be an admission of criminal wrongdoing, you are permitted to assert your Fifth Amendment right not to incriminate yourself. Do you understand that?”

“I do,” Rose answered as he sat up straight in the witness box and smoothed out his suit jacket. “But I have nothing to hide, Your Honor.”

“Very well. You may continue, Miss Jaffe.”

“Did Mr. Pope order you to kill Charlie Marsh when Mr. Marsh left the courthouse after his bail hearing?”

“No.”

“Did he threaten to kick you out of your position at Mercury Enterprises if you didn’t murder Charlie Marsh and Sally Pope?”

“No.”

“But he was briefing you about Mr. Marsh’s case?”

“No, he wasn’t.”

“Do you remember being interviewed by Kate Ross, my investigator, the day before Mr. Marsh flew back to Portland?”

“Yes.”

“Toward the end of the interview she asked you if you were still mad at Mr. Marsh.”

“Yes.”

“And you said that was water under the bridge and you asked her to tell Mr. Marsh that you had no hard feelings when she saw him the next day.”

“So?”

“How did you know Mr. Marsh was flying into Portland the next day?”

“I…I don’t know.” Rose eyes shifted nervously. “I must have heard it on the news.”

“Mr. Marsh flew to Portland on a private jet. His arrival time was a tightly held secret. The media knew nothing about the flight until the day after Ms. Ross interviewed you. That’s when a reporter for World News tipped them off. Mr. Marsh was in New York before he flew to Portland. I can produce everyone in New York who knew Mr. Marsh’s flight plans. They will swear under oath that they did not reveal this information to you.

“Aside from my father, Kate Ross, and me, Karl Burdett was the only Oregonian who knew when Mr. Marsh would arrive. If you knew the date, the information could only have come from Mr. Burdett or from someone he told, like his biggest contributor, Arnold Pope Sr., a man with a burning interest in the case of the man who allegedly killed his son. So, I ask you again, did Arnold Pope brief you about Mr. Marsh’s case?”

“Objection,” Curry shouted. “This line of questioning is totally irrelevant to these proceedings. Miss Jaffe doesn’t have a shred of evidence to support her accusations.”

“I might have an eyewitness,” Amanda said, “if Mr. Pope thought that Mr. Rose killed his son.”

“What!” Rose shouted.

“You told Kate Ross that you were at your car in the parking lot of the Westmont when Arnold Pope Jr. was shot, but Ralph Day will testify that you were in the crowd watching Delmar Epps fight with one of the security guards. The gun that was used to shoot the congressman was large and unwieldy and Mr. Epps usually kept it in his waistband. If Mr. Epps was carrying the gun and the gun fell out when Mr. Epps was fighting, you could have grabbed it.”

“Why would I want to kill Arnold Pope Jr.? I’d never met the man.”

“What if you didn’t mean to kill him? What if you meant to kill his wife, Sally Pope, who had dumped you and refused to talk to you shortly before the shooting? What if you aimed at Sally Pope and killed her husband by mistake? If that happened, you could have tossed the gun away after you killed the congressman. Then you could have lied to Mr. Pope and told him that you refused Sally Pope’s request to kill her husband and you could have agreed to testify against the woman Mr. Pope hated. If Mrs. Pope went to prison the police would stop looking for the congressman’s killer. If Mr. Pope gained custody of his grandson a very wealthy man would be in your debt.”

“Objection!” Curry shouted. “This is pure speculation. Miss Jaffe is making a jury argument in a criminal case. She’s supposed to be asking questions in a custody matter. Her entire line of questioning is irrelevant.”

While Curry was talking, Rose stole a look at Arnold Pope. The old man was leaning forward, his eyes riveted on the witness. Beads of sweat formed on Rose’s brow.

“I’m inclined to agree, Miss Jaffe,” Judge Gomez said. “Your allegations are very serious and I won’t let you pursue them unless you can assure me that you have very strong evidence to support them.”

“May we have a minute, Your Honor?” Frank asked.

“Go ahead,” the judge said.

Frank leaned close to his daughter so no one would hear what he said.

“Amanda, do you have a shred of evidence that Rose killed Junior?”

“I never accused him of killing Pope. I just asked a lot of questions beginning with ‘what if.’”

“You can’t just toss around accusations of murder like that. I think you should drop this line of questioning.”

“Don’t worry, Dad. I’ve accomplished what I wanted to achieve.”

Amanda stood up. “I don’t have any further questions of Mr. Rose,” she told the judge.

“I think this would be a good time to recess for the day,” Judge Gomez said.

Amanda sat down and watched Tony Rose hurry out of the courtroom. Then she shifted her gaze to Arnold Pope, whose eyes were following Rose’s retreating back with a look of pure hatred. Several rows behind Senior, a black man stood up and worked his way toward the door to the courtroom. Amanda’s heartbeat accelerated. Then she calmed down. She’d thought the man was Nathan Tuazama but Tuazama did not wear tortoiseshell glasses.

“Do you really think Rose murdered Sally?” Liam O’Connell asked as the courtroom emptied out. He looked stunned.

“Someone wanted Charlie and Sally dead and that person went to great lengths to have them killed. The only person I can think of who would hate them that much is Senior. He couldn’t do the job himself but he could have forced Rose to do it. If Rose were kicked out of Mercury Enterprises he would lose a fortune, and he’s skilled enough as a marksman to have made the attempt on Charlie at the courthouse.

“The day I told Karl Burdett that Charlie was returning to Oregon, he copied his file. No one in the DA’s office knows anything about that copy, so who did he give it to? The only person who would be that interested would be Senior.”

“And you think Pope told Rose when Marsh was flying in?” O’Connell asked.

“Who else would Burdett have spoken to?”

“Will the police arrest Rose?”

“Not unless they dig up more evidence,” Amanda said as she packed the last of her papers in her attaché case and headed out of the courtroom. “You can’t get an indictment with guesses.”

“That was straight out of Perry Mason,” Dennis Levy said as soon as Amanda stepped into the hall.

“Except Rose didn’t break down and confess. In real life, Dennis, witnesses deny, deny, deny, no matter how much evidence you throw at them.”

“Then why did you cross-examine him like that?”

“To create doubt in the judge’s mind about Senior’s suitability as a guardian and to drive a wedge between Senior and Rose that might be useful at Charlie’s trial.”

“Would you give me an exclusive interview about the custody case? If I write this up now I can get my story in this week’s edition of World News.”

“Sure, Dennis,” Amanda said as soon as Liam and Frank were out of earshot. “I wanted to talk to you about the photograph from the Dunthorpe seminar, anyway.”

Dennis turned pale. “What photograph?”

“Please don’t play games with me. Kate saw it when she went through the file but it wasn’t there after you went through the file. I know what it shows. I’ve seen the original. If you return it to me with any copies you’ve made I’ll let you stay on the inside in Charlie’s case. Keep the photograph and I will do everything in my power to make sure that someone else writes Charlie’s book. So, what will it be?”

“You can’t intimidate me,” Dennis said, but the quiver in his voice contradicted his words.

“Blackmail is a felony, Dennis.”

“What are you talking about?”

Amanda stared hard at Levy. Sweat formed on the reporter’s brow.

“I’m going to my office. When you know what you’re going to do, let’s talk. You’ve been telling everyone what this book will do for your career, the notoriety you’ll achieve, the money you’ll make. Achieve your fame and fortune honestly, Dennis. Give back the photo.”

Amanda turned and walked away. Dennis watched her leave. He suddenly realized that he was shaking. There was a bench a few feet away. He needed to sit down. Then he needed to decide what he was going to do.

CHAPTER 46

Tony Rose was desperate to talk to Arnold Pope but reporters mobbed him when he left the courthouse and hounded him all the way to his car. Rose barely avoided destroying a reporter’s handheld microphone when he slammed the door of his Ferrari. He was wondering if he could back out of his parking space without running over someone when the reporters suddenly disappeared. Rose looked out of his back window and saw the mob rushing toward the courthouse to ambush Pope and Derrick Barclay.

Rose had no idea what was going on in Pope’s twisted mind, but he knew that he had to convince Senior that Jaffe’s accusations were crazy. He closed his eyes and followed the deep-breathing routine he’d used to calm himself during tense moments in his tennis matches.

Pope’s limousine stopped in front of the courthouse and Barclay helped his employer into the backseat. They were probably going to Pope’s estate. Rose was debating the wisdom of following the limo when his cell phone rang.

“Mr. Pope wants you at the house at ten o’clock tonight,” Derrick Barclay said in that imperious tone that set Rose’s teeth on edge.

“He doesn’t think…?” Rose started, but Barclay had already hung up.

Rose swallowed hard and reversed out of his space. He was so intent on his problems that he didn’t notice Pierre Girard’s nondescript brown Toyota follow him out of the lot.

AT EXACTLY TEN o’clock, Tony Rose parked his Ferrari in front of Arnold Pope’s mansion. He was still shaken by the summons. Rose made a lot of money but he’d spent plenty over the years. His cars and his houses cost a fortune to keep up and he was always inches away from bankruptcy. Only his king-size salary and overly generous bonuses kept the wolf from his door. That’s why he’d agreed to kill Charlie Marsh and Sally Pope. Senior had known he was a marksman when he suggested the hits to Rose. When Rose balked, Senior used the threat of firing him from Mercury as the stick and a seven-figure payoff disguised as a bonus for his work as Mercury’s president as the carrot.

Now Rose felt helpless. Who knew what Senior was thinking after hearing the ravings of O’Connell’s lunatic attorney? If Pope believed everything Jaffe said he might kick him out of Mercury and he’d be back where he was when the Westmont fired him. And he had nothing with which to bargain. He couldn’t threaten to implicate Pope without implicating himself. Besides, the police would only have his word that Senior was involved.

When he could put it off no longer, Rose got out of the car and walked to the front door.

“What does he want?” Rose asked Derrick Barclay as Pope’s lackey led him to the back of the house.

“You’ll have to ask Mr. Pope.”

The first thing Rose noticed when Barclay opened the door to the den was that the heavy curtains were drawn and the only light came from the low-wattage bulb in Senior’s desk lamp, leaving Pope’s features cloaked in shadow.

“Come in,” Pope ordered from his seat behind his desk. Tony had taken a few steps into the room when he heard the door close behind him. He started to turn but his feet tangled in the drop cloth that Barclay had spread over the floor at Pope’s request. Tony looked down and realized that every square inch of the beautiful hardwood flooring was covered.

“You killed my boy,” Pope said.

Rose’s head jerked up. “No, Mr. Pope. You can’t believe what that lawyer said. She was just trying to prejudice the judge. That was nonsense. Why would I hurt Junior?”

“As soon as she said it I knew it was the truth. I sent those photographs to Junior so he’d show some spine and get rid of that bitch, but she couldn’t have planned to kill Arnie, because she didn’t know he was coming to the Westmont. And my investigators told me that Marsh is a coward. But the gun was found where he was standing and he’d been fighting with Junior and he ran away. All these years I was certain that Marsh killed Arnie. Now I know I was wrong.”

“It wasn’t me. I swear it wasn’t me.”

“Were you in the crowd like Jaffe said?”

“That’s true.”

“Then why did you lie to Jaffe’s investigator and say you were at your car?”

Rose broke out in a sweat. “I didn’t want her to know I was anywhere near Arnie.”

“Did you think you were the only witness Jaffe would have interviewed? Didn’t it dawn on you that someone else could have seen you?”

“I was under a lot of stress when Jaffe’s investigator talked to me. That was the day before Marsh returned to Oregon. I was thinking about the best way to take care of him, just like you wanted. I wasn’t thinking clearly.”

“Is that your excuse for shooting my boy?”

“I didn’t. I saw Epps fighting and I saw him kick that guard. If he had that gun it must have dropped out earlier, because I never saw a gun come out of his waistband and I never saw a gun on the ground near where Epps was fighting. You have to believe me.”

“Well, I don’t,” Pope said. “And even if I did, you’re the only person who can link me to Sally’s murder and the attempts on Marsh.”

Suddenly, Tony realized that the drop cloth was covering the floor so his blood wouldn’t stain Pope’s precious hardwood. That flash of insight occurred simultaneously with the flash from the muzzle of the gun Derrick Barclay had aimed at his brain while Senior was distracting him.

“Get rid of his car and get this garbage out of my sight, Derrick,” Pope said without a trace of emotion.

DERRICK BARCLAY WAS much stronger than he looked but it was still a strain to drag the drop cloth-wrapped corpse through the house and out the back door where an old Cadillac was waiting. He was sweating profusely by the time Rose was loaded into the trunk and he took several deep breaths before getting into the driver’s seat.

A timber baron had a terrific advantage in a situation like this. Pope owned vast acres of forest land where a corpse could be buried with little chance of discovery. There had been other occasions when Barclay had disposed of unwanted items like Tony Rose, and he had found a lovely spot in the middle of an old-growth forest for the dearly departed. If there was life after death, Barclay hoped that Mr. Pope’s victims appreciated his choice of a final resting place.

As soon as he had taken care of Rose, Barclay planned to use the dead man’s credit card to buy a one-way ticket to Germany. Then he would leave Rose’s car in the long-term parking lot at the Portland airport and take public transportation into town. With luck, the police would think that Rose had panicked and fled the country.

Two hours after leaving Washington County, Barclay turned off a two-lane state highway onto a dirt logging road that had not been used for many years. Twenty minutes later, he stopped the car near a narrow trail that would be invisible to someone who didn’t know it existed. Barclay walked around to the trunk. He flexed his knees, took hold of the body through the drop cloth, and hauled Rose out of the car. Then he hoisted the corpse over his shoulders in a fireman’s carry, grabbed the shovel he’d leaned against the side of the car, and tramped into the woods.

Barclay had walked a short way when he heard a rustling in the underbrush. Rose’s dead weight hurt his shoulders and legs but he paused to listen for any indication that someone was stalking him. When he didn’t hear anything, he decided an animal had caused the sound. Shortly before he reached his destination, Barclay thought he heard a twig snap. Was someone following him? No, that was impossible. He would have seen a car on the sparsely traveled country roads. His shoulders ached and he hurried the rest of the way so he could unload his burden. As soon as the body was on the ground, he flexed his back and shoulders. Then he paused to listen again, still spooked by the sounds he thought he’d heard. Except for the wind and the leaves it rustled, all was quiet.

Digging a grave was hard work and it required focus. That’s why Barclay didn’t hear Quentin Randolph and his partner, Nathan Rask, until they were almost on him. The sheriff’s deputies were responding to a 911 call relayed to them by their dispatcher. The caller had a funny accent but he had given very specific directions to a site where he claimed a man was burying a body. Quentin thought the report might be a prank, but it was a quiet evening and checking out the call gave him something to do.

CHAPTER 47

Wanda Simmons, the acting district attorney for Washington County, was a severe-looking career prosecutor with frizzy red hair and a perpetually harried expression. Simmons, who had no life away from her cases, always wore identical rumpled navy blue skirts and jackets over identical wrinkled white blouses. Amanda suspected that Simmons put up with the time it took to get dressed only because she wouldn’t be allowed in court if she was naked.

“Who wants to tell me why we’re having this secret meeting?” Marshall Berkowitz asked as he looked back and forth between Simmons and Amanda.

“I’m going to dismiss the case against Mr. Marsh,” the DA told the judge. “Neither party wanted a media circus.”

Berkowitz raised his eyebrows in surprise as Amanda nodded her assent. Charlie Marsh, whom Amanda had ordered to speak only when she told him to, sat quietly at his lawyer’s side.

“Care to tell me why you’re dismissing?” the judge asked.

“You know that Derrick Barclay, Arnold Pope Sr.’s assistant, was arrested while he was burying Tony Rose on forest land owned by one of Pope’s companies.”

The judge nodded. The arrest of Arnold Pope and Derrick Barclay was the talk of the county.

“Barclay has been cooperating since his arrest and he’s told us a lot we didn’t know about Senior’s involvement in this case. Twelve years ago, Senior pressured Karl to prosecute Mr. Marsh and his daughter-in-law. Karl had no intention of charging Mrs. Pope until Senior turned the screws. Barclay also says that Pope wanted Rose murdered because he believed that Rose killed his son.

“I’ve had a chance to study our evidence and I see a number of serious problems with the case. I had no idea how weak it was until I went through the file after Karl was murdered. Our biggest problem is that Werner Rollins has retracted his statement that he saw Mr. Marsh shoot Congressman Pope. Rollins was the only witness who put the murder weapon in Mr. Marsh’s hand. Rollins tells us that he said he saw Mr. Marsh shoot the congressman because Karl threatened to prosecute him for the assault on the security guard if he didn’t. Without Rollins’s testimony, we don’t have a case. Any number of people, including Tony Rose, could have shot the congressman. Now that Rose is dead we’ll never know if he’s guilty, but he’s now as viable a suspect as Mr. Marsh and several other people who were standing near Mr. Marsh when the fatal shot was fired.

“Then there’s the problem of the note and the photographs. Twelve years ago, when Sally Pope was prosecuted, it was the state’s theory that Mrs. Pope and Mr. Marsh lured the congressman to the Westmont by sending him several scandalous photographs showing the two of them in situations that suggested that they were lovers, and an anonymous note saying that Mr. Marsh and the congressman’s wife would be at the Westmont for one of Mr. Marsh’s seminars. Frank Jaffe developed proof that Senior was behind the photographs and the anonymous note that lured Junior to the Westmont.”

“I never knew that,” Judge Berkowitz said.

“It’s not public knowledge. In fact, the evidence and the transcript of the hearing where the information was revealed were sealed. Amanda told me about the evidence soon after I was given Mr. Marsh’s case.

“I’ve given this matter a lot of thought and I’ve decided that I would have a reasonable doubt about Mr. Marsh’s guilt if I was on his jury. I can’t go forward in good conscience feeling that way.”

“AM I FREE?” Charlie asked as soon as he and Amanda were alone in her car.

“It’s over, Charlie. Of course, there’s no statute of limitations on a murder charge. Theoretically you could be indicted again if new evidence implicating you turned up. But I doubt that will ever happen, since we both know what really took place at the Westmont.”

“What’s going to happen now?” Charlie asked.

“Whenever you’re ready, Brice’s corporate jet will fly you and Levy to New York so you can work on the book.”

“Levy is going to be pissed when he hears the case is over,” Charlie said with a smile. “He was counting on my trial and dramatic acquittal for the last chapter.”

CHARLIE’S EUPHORIA LASTED as long as it took for Nathan Tuazama to slip into the elevator when it arrived in the hotel lobby.

“Good evening, Charlie,” Tuazama said as the steel doors sealed Marsh in with the assassin.

Charlie’s heart rocketed into his throat. He had been so distracted by the day’s events that he’d forgotten the Batangan. With Tuazama a knife blade away, Charlie was too frightened to speak. Tuazama sensed his terror and smiled as he pressed a button that stopped the car between floors.

“Did you think I’d forgotten you?”

“What do you want?”

“I want the diamonds. You will give them to me now.”

“Why should I?” Charlie asked with unconvincing bravado.

“If you choose to keep them, Charlie, I will kill you. I assume that argument is very convincing. I will call you tomorrow to tell you where to bring the stones.”

Tuazama started the car again. The door opened on the floor below Charlie’s.

“Wait,” Charlie said.

“The time for waiting is over,” Tuazama said as the doors closed and he disappeared from view.

Charlie was shaking when he locked the door to his room. As soon as he settled down, he called Amanda and asked her to bring the diamonds to her office in the morning. She asked no questions, assuming that Charlie wanted to have the stones with him in New York and she was perfectly happy to have them out of her possession.

As soon as Charlie hung up on Amanda, he made a second call.

CHAPTER 48

Amanda handed over the diamonds an hour after Tuazama called Charlie with instructions. As soon as he had them, Charlie returned to his hotel and waited for midnight.

Washington Park, 130 acres of forest featuring attractions like the Oregon Zoo and the Japanese and Rose Gardens, overlooks downtown Portland from the West Hills. During the day, it is a feast of colors and a place for thousands of visitors to play. At night, it is deserted: a place for drugs to be dealt, lovers to meet, and the occasional act of violence. At midnight, it is no place for a law-abiding citizen but it is a perfect place to transfer diamonds worth several million dollars to a trained assassin without being seen.

Charlie had no idea where Tuazama was lurking when he parked his car in the deserted lot near the Rose Garden and walked along a shadow-shrouded path to the amphitheater, but he was certain that the Batangan was close enough to protect his property from the predators who roamed the park at night.

During the summer, concerts and plays were performed in a meadow surrounded by trees and shrubbery. Tonight, the only light illuminating the grassy field was from a half moon. Char lie stepped onto the platform that served as a stage, as he had been told to do. His heart was thudding in his chest. He closed his eyes for a moment in an attempt to control his breathing. When he opened them, Nathan Tuazama was standing a few steps away.

“I brought them,” Charlie said, his voice shaking.

“I knew you would,” Tuazama answered confidently as he started toward Charlie. He’d taken two steps when a man stepped out of the space between two trees. His first shot caught Tuazama in the chest. The Batangan stumbled backward and reached under his jacket for his gun. More shots hit him from behind as two other men materialized out of the shadows. The rebels had used silencers and the shots had been mere whispers in the night. Tuazama tumbled onto the grass and the three men surrounded him. Charlie joined them.

“Hello, Nathan,” Pierre Girard said. Tuazama stared at him but didn’t reply. Blood trickled from his lips. “Do you recognize me? I’m Bernadette’s brother and I’m sorry I don’t have time to make you suffer the way Bernadette must have suffered.”

Pierre turned to Charlie. “Would you like to finish him?” he asked.

Charlie shook his head. Pierre turned back to Tuazama and shot him between the eyes. Charlie shuddered. He was relieved that Tuazama was dead but he didn’t feel any sense of satisfaction. Killing Tuazama hadn’t brought Bernadette to life.

“Did you bring the diamonds?” Pierre asked.

Charlie handed him the box.

“Thank you,” Pierre said. “We will always be grateful to you for the risks you took for us.”

“I’m the one who should be thanking you for saving my life here and at Sally Pope’s mansion,” Charlie said.

“We had to protect you until you could bring us the diamonds. We need them to buy the weapons that will bring Baptiste down.”

“Good luck in Batanga.”

“Thank you, Charlie. We will escort you to your car, then we must go,” Pierre said. “I will always remember what you’ve done for us.”

A lump formed in Charlie’s throat and tears filled his eyes. “I did this for your sister, Pierre. I did this for Bernadette.”