“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?”
Marsh nodded.
“Then why did you come back? You were safe in Batanga.”
Marsh laughed. “Amanda, I’d be safer strapped into an electric chair than I was in that mosquito-infested hellhole.”
“Why don’t you explain that to me?”
“If you don’t mind, I’d rather not.”
“I get that you had a bad experience over there…”
Marsh snorted. “You don’t know the half of it.”
“It could be important for the bail hearing. You fled the country once and Burdett will argue that’s evidence that you’ll be a flight risk if the judge sets bail.”
“Believe me, I am never going back to Africa; not ever. You won’t even catch me watching a Tarzan movie.”
“The judge isn’t going to take your word that you won’t flee, without an explanation.”
Marsh spaced out and Amanda let him think. When he looked at her, his jaw was set.
“I’m going to do this just once, so take good notes and never ask me about Batanga again. But, before I tell you about Batanga, I have something I need you to do for me.”
“What’s that?”
“I brought something with me from Batanga that I want you to hold for me. When we get to Oregon I want you to put it in a safety-deposit box.”
Amanda frowned. “What exactly is this thing?”
“I can’t tell you.”
“We’re not talking drugs here, are we?”
“No. You won’t be breaking any laws, but you will be doing something important for a lot of innocent people. I can’t say any more. Will you do it?”
Amanda hesitated. She needed to gain Marsh’s trust if she was going to be an effective advocate for him. On the other hand, she wasn’t going to aid and abet a criminal enterprise.
“You swear you’re not asking me to commit a crime?” she asked, knowing full well how ridiculous it was to ask that question of a criminal who had earned his living as a con man.
“Yes.”
“All right. Give me the item.”
Charlie went into his bedroom and returned shortly with a box wrapped in brown paper and bound with twine. Amanda put it into her large handbag.
“You ready to talk about Africa?” she asked when the box was out of sight.
Charlie sighed. “Let’s get this over.”
For the next hour, Marsh told his lawyer about his years in exile, concluding with an account of his hairbreadth escape from the makeshift airfield.
“Jesus, Charlie, you’re lucky to be alive.”
“I want you to keep me that way.”
“I’m definitely going to try my best, but tell me, if you didn’t kill Pope, who did?”
“I don’t know.”
“Everyone says the shot was fired near you and the gun was found where you were standing.”
“Look, Amanda, it was dark, what with Werner and Delmar fighting and Pope screaming at me and the citizens shrieking, it was like being in the middle of a three-ring circus.”
“So you’re saying that you don’t have any idea who killed Arnold Pope?”
“None whatsoever.”
AMANDA WAS DOG-TIRED by the time she checked into her hotel. Her cross-country trip and the lengthy interview with Charlie had been exhausting, and Dennis Levy hadn’t made her job any easier. He’d tried to eavesdrop on their conference several times and she’d used a lot of energy fending off his constant attempts to convince her that there would be no real problem if he had better access to her client.