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“I’ve been through the discovery in Pope,” Cross said. “You busy or do you want to go through it now?”

Frank rubbed his eyes and leaned back in his chair. He pointed at the paperwork that covered his desk.

“This has to be the most boring case I’ve ever worked on. I can use the break.”

“Pope isn’t boring,” the investigator assured him. “I’ve got everything spread out in the conference room.”

Frank brought his coffee across the hall to a long table covered with photographs, police reports, and files.

“Give me the Reader’s Digest condensed version,” Frank said as he took a sip from his mug. “I’ll go through everything myself, later.”

“Okay, well, Burdett has Charlie Marsh pegged as the shooter.”

“Because?”

“They found a fancy, ivory-handled.357 Magnum at the scene. It’s a custom job, very distinctive, and it belongs to Marsh. A waiter at Marsh’s hotel saw him playing with it earlier in the evening and his agent, Mickey Keys, saw the gun in the limo that took Marsh and his entourage to the Westmont.”

“Was Marsh carrying it?”

“No, Keys told the police that Marsh’s bodyguard, Delmar Epps, liked the gun and carried it in his waistband when Marsh was in public. Epps was playing with it in the limo but Keys doesn’t know what happened to the gun once Epps got out of the car.”

“And the Magnum is definitely the murder weapon?”

Cross nodded. “The lab made a positive match. The bullet that killed the congressman was fired from Marsh’s gun.”

“Are Marsh’s prints on the weapon?”

Cross shook his head. “Someone wiped it down.”

“Did someone see Marsh shoot the gun at Pope?”

“They have a witness.” Cross handed Frank a crime scene photo. “Marsh was standing in a group on the other side of this turnaround.”

Frank wasn’t a member of the Westmont but he’d been there several times. He guessed that the police photographer had been standing under the portico at the main entrance and had shot across the turnaround toward the pro shop. Even though it was a night shot, Frank could see the side of the turnaround closest to the entrance with enough definition to make out a section of a flower bed that had been trampled underfoot. But the light from the club entrance faded out midway across the turnaround, leaving the far side in shadow. The pro shop, which was about twenty-five yards back from the road on the side away from the club, was almost impossible to see.

“Where was Marsh supposed to be standing?” Frank asked.

“See the road leading from the main street?” Cross asked, pointing at the far side of the turnaround.

Frank nodded.

“He was a little bit in from where the road bends toward the parking lot, sort of a straight line to the edge of the pro shop.”

“Okay, I’ve got it.”

Frank studied the picture. “There’s not a lot of light on that spot. How do they put Marsh with the gun?”

“Several witnesses will testify that they saw a muzzle flash from the area where Marsh was standing, but the key witness for the state is Werner Rollins. He’s an ex-con and Burdett is holding him on an outstanding warrant. Rollins is an acquaintance of Marsh who was at the seminar with another ex-con, named Gary Hass. A fight broke out after the congressman hit Marsh. Rollins got into it with a security guard. He ended up in the group on the other side of the turnaround. Then he took off when Pope was shot. The police picked him up a few hours later. He’s cut a deal with Burdett and he’s going to testify that he saw Marsh shoot Pope.”

“What does his buddy, Hass, say?”

“He’s not in custody but they do have Delmar Epps. It looks like Epps drove Marsh from the scene. He was also involved in the fight. Word is they’re cutting a deal with him, too.”

“What does he say happened to the gun?”

“He says Hass opened the limo door when the car stopped. When Epps realized the limo driver wasn’t opening the door he thought there might be trouble-a fan, paparazzi-so he says he got out to deal with Hass and left the gun on the seat.”

“So we have Marsh in the car with the gun.”

Cross nodded.

“Where’s Marsh now?”

“My latest information is that he’s sought asylum in Batanga, which doesn’t have an extradition treaty with the United States.”

“Doesn’t a cannibal run that country?”

“So they say.”

“Okay, so we have Marsh as the shooter. Why does Burdett think Mrs. Pope is involved?”

Cross pointed at a Xerox copy of a group of photographs. “The day before he was shot, someone sent these pictures and an anonymous note to the congressman’s office. The pictures show our client and Charlie Marsh in compromising positions in her house and they show Mrs. Pope at night going into and out of the elevator that went to Marsh’s penthouse hotel suite. The note said that Sally Pope and Marsh were going to be at the Westmont on the following evening. The note was made by pasting letters cut from magazine ads onto a sheet of white paper. Sally Pope’s fingerprints are all over the paper and on some of the pasted letters. Mrs. Pope subscribes to the magazine from which the letters were cut. I think Burdett is going to argue that our client lured her husband to the club from DC so Charlie Marsh could shoot him.”

“Do we know where the paper is from?”

“Similar paper was found during a search of the Pope residence.”

Frank studied the pictures of Marsh and his client in flagrante. He looked troubled for a moment. Then he brightened.

“Someone took the pictures of Marsh and our client making out. Find the photographer, Herb. He’s the key to this case.”

“Do you have any idea who might have hired the photographer if it wasn’t our client?”

“I’ll ask her for ideas, but the obvious suspect is Arnold Pope Sr.”

Frank told his investigator about Senior’s relationship with Junior and his daughter-in-law.

“Do you know-off the top of your head-what law firm Senior uses for his legal work?” Cross asked.

“I think it’s Reed, Briggs. Why?”

“Investigators who do surveillance work are a special breed. They’re usually loners who earn a living by spending eight to twelve hours a day with their camera staking out workmen’s comp claimants or plaintiffs in personal injury cases to see if they can catch them malingering. They’re frequently social misfits who can’t take regular office work. They don’t like routines or bosses looking over their shoulder. Firms don’t carry these guys on their payroll like they do in-house investigators, but they have a list of people they’ll contract with for odd jobs when the need arises. If Arnold Sr. hired the photographer he may have gotten the name from someone at Reed, Briggs.”

“Get on it, then. If we can prove that Senior hired the person who took the photos we’ll tear a huge hole in the state’s case. Have you found anything else that could cause us problems?”

“I’m not certain. There are two witnesses listed on the indictment who don’t match up with a police report.”

“Who are they?”

“Otto Jarvis and Anthony Rose.”

Frank frowned. “I don’t recognize Rose. I’ll ask Mrs. Pope if she knows him. Jarvis is a lawyer.”

“Is he with a big firm?”

“No, he’s a bottom-feeder. He does court-appointed criminal cases, but nothing big. Misdemeanors, shoplifts, drunk drives. I’ve heard that he does a lot of divorce work. If I’m not mistaken, he’s had a few problems with the bar, so check to see if he’s had ethics complaints filed against him.”