Phillip Margolin - Fugitive

“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.

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.