Fugitive (8 page)

Of course I' m interested, Amanda said just as Brice's chef appeared with her pancakes. Jennifer Gates was following a few steps behind, carrying Amanda's latte.

The Pope case had made her father's reputation. The trial of Sally Pope and the continuing saga of Charlie Marsh's flight to Africa had dominated the airwaves for more than a year. Amanda was already famous in Oregon and she was known in professional circles outside of the state but she would become a household name in every state in the Union if she defended Satan's Guru.

What's your relationship to Charlie Marsh? Amanda asked as she poured hot maple syrup over the stack.

It's strictly professional.

Then what are you getting out of this? Amanda asked before taking her first bite.

Exclusive access. He's agreed to speak only to World News and to permit us to embed one of our reporters in your defense team during the trial.

Amanda lowered her fork. Whoa, wait a minute. What would this reporter be doing?

His name is Dennis Levy. He's a very competent young man. I think you'll like him.

You haven't answered my question, Mrs. Brice. What do you envision Levy doing during the trial?

I envision him being a fly on the wall. He'll be present in court, of course, but he'll also sit in on strategy meetings, your conferences with Mr. Marsh, interviews with witnesses. Then he'll also do one-on-one interviews with you and your team. We'll have an edge on every other newspaper, magazine, and TV news program.

We may have a problem. I can't have your reporter setting out my strategy in your magazine for everyone in the DA's office to read.

Of course not. Dennis won't do anything to compromise Mr. Marsh's case.

And he's not going to be able to sit in on my meetings with Mr. Marsh. He's not an attorney so he's not covered by the attorney-client privilege. If a third party is present during a conversation I have with Mr. Marsh, the privilege disappears. Your reporter could be called as a prosecution witness and be forced to testify about everything Mr. Marsh said to me in confidence.

What about his First Amendment protections as a member of the press?

I' m not an expert in this area, but I' m pretty certain the courts have held that the First Amendment doesn't protect a reporter in these circumstances.

I'll have my legal staff look into the question. Again, I' m not going to do anything that could hurt Mr. Marsh's chances at an acquittal.

Mr. Levy would have to follow my instructions. I' m going to want to review his articles before they' re published to make sure nothing he writes will tip our hand or reveal a confidence.

I think we can work that out. So, are you on board?

I' m definitely interested, but I may have a conflict. You know that my father Frank Jaffe represented Sally Pope, Mr. Marsh's codefendant?

Brice nodded.

As I said, I was in college when the trial was held, but we' re partners now and I have to make certain that no conflict exists.

Mrs. Pope was acquitted, wasn't she?

The case was dismissed with prejudice, in the middle of the trial. The legal effect is the same.

So where's the problem?

There may not be one, but I have to make certain. If there is none, I'll definitely take the case. That is, if Mr. Marsh wants me as his lawyer. You understand that you won't be my client, he will. If he wants me, I' m in.

Good.

Where is Mr. Marsh now?

En route to New York. He'll stay in an apartment World News owns.

You' re not going to announce his return, are you? I don't want the district attorney to know where he is. He'd have him arrested.

I have no intention of letting anyone know that Mr. Marsh is back in the States until you tell me it's okay.

Good. The first thing I'll do, as soon as I' m certain I can take the case, is to arrange Mr. Marsh's voluntary surrender. This will give me time to set up a bail hearing. I don't want him in jail while we' re preparing for trial if I can prevent it.

Brice reached into her hobo bag and pulled out an envelope. She handed it to Amanda.

This is your retainer and a list of phone numbers that will reach me. Let me know as soon as possible about the conflict problem.

I'll want to speak to Mr. Marsh immediately, once I' m on board.

I'll send the jet for you and you can meet in New York, if you'd like.

Amanda ran her hand over the leather-upholstered seat. I might just take you up on that if you throw in another free breakfast. These pancakes are delicious.

A manda could barely contain her excitement as she drove to her office. She'd been involved in some big cases that had gained national attention, like Cardoni the serial killer case and the Dupre matter, which had involved the murder of a United States senator. But the attention State v. Charles Marsh would garner would be on a whole different plane. Her life would be turned upside down, but it would be worth it for the chance to be part of history.

Then there was the personal reason for taking the case. What a coup it would be if she cleared Marsh's name the same way her father had cleared Sally Pope' s.

Amanda parked in her lot and walked through the waves of rolling heat to the Stockman Building, a fourteen-story office building in the heart of downtown Portland. Jaffe, Katz, Lehane and Brindisi leased the entire eighth floor. As soon as Amanda checked for messages at the front desk, she went to her father's office.

Frank Jaffe was a big man in his late fifties, with a ruddy complexion and curly hair that was starting to show more gray than black. His nose had been broken twice in his youth during brawls, and he looked more like a criminal than a doctor of jurisprudence. Frank's spacious corner office was decorated with antiques and dominated by a huge desk he'd bought at an auction soon after opening his practice. Over the years, the desk top had been scarred by cigarette burns, paper-clip scratches, and coffee stains that were hard to spot, because almost every inch was covered by law books, stacks of paper, or files.

Amanda announced herself by tapping on Frank's doorjamb. He looked up from the draft of the legal memo on which he was working.

What's the reason for the smile that's plastered across your puss? Frank asked.

Amanda plopped herself down on one of the two client chairs that stood on the other side of Frank's desk.

Why do you think I was given this? Amanda asked, tossing the retainer check toward Frank. He stared at the check for a moment. Then he whistled. Amanda's smile widened.

Did you win the lottery? he asked.

Sort of. I've just been hired to defend the case of the century.

Enough already, Frank said, unable to contain a grin. Out with it. What case is big enough to warrant this type of retainer?

Charlie Marsh is returning home to stand trial for the murder of Arnold Pope Jr.

Frank stopped smiling. You' re kidding!

I' m dead serious. He's on his way back to the States from Africa as we speak. World News magazine is going to put him up in New York until I can arrange for his surrender.

How is he paying you?

Amanda told her father about the book deal and Martha Brice's expectations regarding World News' exclusive coverage of the case. When his daughter finished, Frank frowned.

I don't like this business with the reporter.

Me either, but I can control him, and Brice agreed to my restrictions.

Or said she did. From what you've told me, she's the type who will promise the world and not mean a word of it. She'll count on you not being able to give up a half million dollars once it's in your account. When she has you involved she'll push the envelope.

Or try to. I made it clear that Charlie is my client, not she. And I hope you know I can handle the Martha Brices of this world.

That I do, but it won't be easy, and you've never been involved in a media circus like the one you' re about to encounter. It can be intoxicating. How many world-class lawyers have you seen turn into fools as soon as they were given a chance to pontificate on national television?

Point taken, but you forget that I'll have a wise old mentor to guide me while I' m on my journey along the yellow brick road. I' m sure I can count on you to pour a bucket of cold water on me if I start acting like a jackass.

Frank smiled. He'd have the bucket ready, but knowing his daughter as he did he doubted he'd ever have to use it.

I have two requests, Dad, Amanda said. Can you fill me in on the Pope case? I read the papers and saw some of it while you were trying it, and we talked a little, but that was twelve years ago and I could do with a refresher course.

You want me to do that now?

Give it a shot.

I don't know if I can, off the top of my head. Look, I do have to finish this memo. So why don't we order in and talk in the conference room at lunch? I'll have the file brought up from storage. That will give me time to think.

Fair enough.

You said you had two requests. What the second?

It dawned on me that we might have a conflict problem. I haven't talked to the bar yet, but I'll be representing a codefendant of someone you represented. She can't be charged again, but I can still imagine problems. So, I wondered if you would get Sally Pope to sign a waiver.

That shouldn't be a problem, Frank said, his face displaying none of the emotions that the thought of seeing Sally Pope evoked.

Frank and Amanda talked for a while more. Then Frank told her that he needed to get back to his memo and she went to her office. Frank did have to finish the memo but he really wanted time alone to deal with the possibility that he would have to see Sally Pope again. She'd been out of his life for a long time but there were still scars.

Frank leaned back in his chair and stared out of his window at the green hills that towered over downtown Portland. The sky was clear and blue and dotted with white clouds; a tranquil scene that was at odds with the emotions boiling up inside him. Thinking about Sally Pope was painful, so Frank turned his attention to Charlie Marsh. Frank's client may have been Sally Pope but the trial had always been about Marsh, and Charlie's story began with the prison standoff.

State of Oregon v. Sally Pope 1996 1997

M inutes before Crazy Freddy Clayton started his hare-brained attempt to escape from the state prison, he and Charlie Marsh were working on a writ of habeas corpus at a table in the rickety wooden stacks that held the prison library's woefully inadequate collection of legal texts. The cellmates were best friends and a truly odd couple. They were dressed in identical prison Levi's and blue work shirts, and they were both a shade under six feet but that was where the similarities ended.

Charlie had blond hair and no tattoos. Freddy had shaved his head and resembled an art gallery when naked. Charlie was looking at parole in a few weeks on a three-year sentence for credit card fraud. Crazy Freddy was serving consecutive twenty-year terms for attempted murder and armed robbery and would be using a walker by the time he left the prison. Charlie had pumped a little iron since beginning his incarceration but the muscle he'd added to his slender frame was difficult to discern. During his many incarcerations, Freddy had developed bulging, well-defined lats, abs, pecs, and biceps by following a workout regime that bordered on the psychotic. Crazy Freddy was psychotic so the effort hadn't cost him much.

While Freddy lived for violence, Charlie was a pacifist for practical reasons; he was a coward who had lost almost every fight in which he'd been involved. In fact, if it weren't for Freddy, Charlie would have been one of the most picked-on boys in school and someone's bitch in the prison. But Freddy had grown up next door to Charlie and they'd been best friends since elementary school. Charlie hid Freddy in his house whenever Clayton's drunken father went on a rampage, and he'd helped Freddy who was not too bright with his schoolwork from day one. Freddy reciprocated by beating the crap out of anyone who dared to pick on his friend. It was amazing, but Freddy a true paranoid trusted Charlie. When he found out Charlie was headed for his lockup, he'd made certain that the inmates knew that his pal was off-limits and he had arranged to bunk with him.

Like most sociopaths, Freddy was convinced that he was highly intelligent and he was constantly coming up with brilliant ideas for overturning his convictions. These were the kind of ideas that never held up under close scrutiny, but Freddy rarely had his ideas scrutinized, because no one had the courage to argue with him. Debate was useless anyway, since Freddy would pound his critic into pulp when Freddy grew frustrated over his inability to understand the critic's logic. Charlie never suggested directly that his friend's ideas were stupid. Freddy had never touched him in anger during all the years they'd been pals, but it was always better to play it safe where Freddy was concerned.

I' m not finding anything, Charlie said. He'd been reading cases in which the courts overturned convictions because of incompetence of counsel.

Look harder. There's gotta be something about it in them books.

I don't know, Freddy, Charlie said cautiously. I just don't see the Supreme Court overturning your conviction because the guy peed a lot.