Phillip Margolin - Fugitive

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?”