Phillip Margolin - Fugitive

Samantha was twenty when she died giving birth to Amanda. How did a man raise a baby-and a girl baby at that-when he didn’t even know how to change a diaper? That was just one of a thousand questions Frank had asked himself during the grief-filled days that followed his wife’s death and his sudden plunge into fatherhood. Frank had to answer these questions quickly. When a baby is screaming there’s not much time for in-depth research.

Frank was a great father, even during the insane years when he was attending law school at night, working all day, and thanking God that his parents were overjoyed to babysit Amanda. When he started Jaffe, Katz, Lehane and Brindisi with some classmates from law school, he had nothing in his life except work and his daughter. Frank never remarried, because he’d never had the time for a serious relationship and he’d rarely found anyone who could measure up to Samantha. On the one occasion he’d come close, his devotion to his work and his child had created a rift that could not be mended.

Frank had written off romance by the time he entered the fourth decade of his life. Then his secretary ushered Sally Pope into his office and Frank felt like a virginal teenager who has just been introduced to the head cheerleader.

“I assume you know who I am,” Sally said as soon as they were alone.

Frank smiled. “Anyone who watches television or reads a newspaper knows who you are, Mrs. Pope. You are notorious.”

Sally laughed and Frank heard church bells chime. Her eyes laughed, too. Her caramel-colored hair shimmered.

“I guess I am notorious,” Sally said. “The papers talk about me as if I’m one of those femme fatales from the old black-and-white films.”

“Mary Astor in The Maltese Falcon or Barbara Stanwyck in Double Indemnity,” Frank agreed.

Sally looked directly into Frank’s eyes. “There is one difference between me and those ladies of the cinema, Mr. Jaffe. I am not a murderer.”

“Does someone think you are?”

“My father-in-law, Arnold Pope Sr., is doing everything in his power to see that I’m charged with murdering my husband. And-before we go any further-I need to know if that’s a problem.”

Frank was confused. “If what’s a problem?”

“If you take my case, you’ll have to go up against Senior. He’s a formidable opponent. I know that from experience. He also owns a lot of people. I need to know if he owns you or if you’re afraid of him.”

“I barely know Mr. Pope.” Frank smiled. “We don’t exactly run in the same circles. And, from what I’ve heard, I doubt I’d like him very much if I did get to know him.”

“Then you’ll take my case?”

“Is there a case? Have you been charged?”

“Not yet. But I have friends who have friends and I’ve been warned that Karl Burdett has convened a grand jury with me as its target.”

“Have the police or a prosecutor tried to speak to you?” Frank asked.

“I was interviewed at the club when Arnie was shot. It never entered my head that I’d need a lawyer, then. A detective came to my house yesterday but I’d been alerted to the investigation so I refused to talk to him. That’s when I asked around and got your name.”

“Before we go any further, we need to discuss the business side of my representation. Are you aware of the expense involved in defending a murder case?”

“I don’t care about the expense.”

“I’ll need a $100,000 retainer for my fees, investigation, and expert witnesses,” Frank said. “The case could get even more expensive.”

“That won’t be a problem. I’ll bring in a cashier’s check tomorrow.”

“Okay. Now that you’re officially my client, it’s time for me to give you my lawyer speech. I give it to every client and you shouldn’t take anything I say personally. But you should take what I say to heart because misunderstanding our relationship as attorney and client can land you in a lot of trouble.

“Now, anything you tell me is confidential with only a few exceptions which we can talk about later. So, if you tell me you did kill your husband…”

“Which I did not.”

Frank nodded. “But if you did and you confessed to me, I would never tell anyone what you told me. On the other hand, I’m an officer of the court, so I can’t let you commit perjury. If you tell me you did kill Congressman Pope I can’t let you get on the stand and swear you were in Idaho at the time of the shooting. I wouldn’t tell on you, but-if you refused to recant-I’d be forced to drop your case and I will keep your retainer.”

“Mr. Jaffe, let’s get this out of the way once and for all. I did not kill my husband or have anything to do with his death. Anyone who says I did is lying. If any evidence implicates me, you can be certain it’s been fabricated. I am completely, one hundred percent innocent.”

“Then why is Karl Burdett convening a grand jury?”

“I honestly don’t know. All the newspapers say that Charlie Marsh shot Arnie.”

“Maybe Burdett is working on a conspiracy or aiding-and-abetting theory. If Charlie Marsh fired the shot that killed your husband but you assisted him in his plan, the law considers you to be as guilty as the person who fired the shot.”

“Charlie and I never discussed murdering my husband.”

“Then you know Marsh?”

Sally paused. “I’m not a good person, Mr. Jaffe. I’ve cheated on my husband many times. I was cheating on him with Charlie Marsh. But I loved Arnie. I know that sounds contradictory but our relationship was complicated, and Senior is responsible for that.”

“Why don’t you explain what was going on.”

“I’m what people of breeding call trailer trash.” Sally laughed bitterly. “The description is pretty accurate. A good part of my early years was spent in trailer parks. My father was someone passing through town, so I have no idea who he is. My mother was a drunk, but in a dark tavern, after a guy had downed a few, she was an attractive enough drunk to catch a few men before they realized how bad a bargain they’d made. Then she’d be out in the cold again, looking for shelter and the next bottle.

“I grew up fast. I know now that I’ve got a pretty good mind, but while I was growing up the boys were never interested in that part of my anatomy.” Sally laughed again, self-consciously. “My mother was my role model. I was the high school slut and a high school dropout, and I used sex to get what I wanted. The one thing I did right was waiting to get knocked up until I met someone with money. And that’s where Arnie comes in.

“Senior convinced him to enlist after college because being a Marine would look good when Arnie ran for office-something Senior started working for on the day Arnie was born. But Senior screwed up. When Arnie went into the Marines it was the first time in his life that he was out from under his father’s thumb.

“Arnie was at Camp Pendleton completing his Marine Infantry Training. I was working in a restaurant near the base. He came in a few times on leave and we started dating. Freud might say that our courtship was Arnie’s way of rebelling against his father. I was a waitress with no education to speak of, someone he knew his father would loathe.”

Sally looked very sad. “I told you I’m not a good person. Our marriage is proof of that. As soon as I found out who Arnie was and how much money he had I tricked him into getting me pregnant. It wasn’t hard. He said he loved me. I think he did. When I told him I was pregnant he seemed happy. He’s the one who said we should get married. I don’t think he thought about the consequences.”

“Did you tell his father?”

Sally shook her head. “We went to Las Vegas over a weekend. Senior didn’t know until it was too late.”