Phillip Margolin - Fugitive

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?

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.”