Phillip Margolin - Fugitive

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.”

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.