Fugitive: A Novel Read online

  Burdett didn’t respond to Amanda. Instead, he told the judge that Charlie would have to be booked into the jail so he could be fingerprinted and have a mug shot taken. Then the DA suggested a bail amount that was well within Charlie’s means. Amanda agreed to the sum quickly and the judge told his clerk to prepare the paperwork. As soon as Amanda and Burdett agreed on a trial date, the DA and his assistant left the courtroom, followed by a pack of reporters.

  “Am I free?” Charlie asked, unsure of what had just happened.

  “As soon as we post bail.”

  Charlie grinned. Then the grin faded as he remembered Nathan Tuazama. He scanned the crowd but the African was no longer in the courtroom.

  “Something wrong?” Amanda asked.

  “No, no. I’m just, uh, shocked by how fast everything went.”

  “That makes two of us.”

  “I bet you didn’t see that coming,” Kate said as she and Dennis joined Amanda and Charlie at counsel table.

  “No, I didn’t,” Amanda answered, still confused by Burdett’s concession.

  A sheriff’s deputy walked over to escort Charlie to the courthouse jail for booking.

  “Kate, can you go with Charlie?”

  “No problem.”

  “I’ll get up to the jail as soon as I post your bail,” Amanda told her client. “Do not say anything about your case to anyone, understood?”

  “Mum’s the word.”

  “Good. See you in an hour or so.”

  “I take it that this was unexpected?” Dennis Levy said.

  “Very. I thought Burdett would fight to the death to keep Charlie in custody.”

  “Any idea why he caved?”

  “He didn’t cave, Dennis, and don’t you dare put it that way. I don’t want to make Karl sorry he gave us a break by making him look like a coward.”

  “No, no, you’re right. I’ll write it up as a magnanimous concession.”

  “Good.”

  “So, why did he cave?” Levy asked with a grin.

  “I have no idea. And now, you have to excuse me. I want Charlie out of custody as soon as possible.”

  FIFTY-FIVE MINUTES LATER, Amanda escorted Charlie out of the jail and into the sunlight. He paused in the warm summer air to close his eyes and take a deep breath. Amanda noticed a group of reporters moving toward them. Kate was waiting at the curb to drive Amanda to her car. Amanda grabbed Charlie’s elbow and hustled him toward the street. They were almost there when Kate’s windshield exploded.

  Kate threw an arm across her face. Charlie froze. Amanda slammed a shoulder into his back and drove him to the pavement just before another bullet passed through the space where his head had been, before blasting a chunk of concrete from the courthouse facade.

  A reporter screamed. Others ducked for cover. A cameraman swung around and foolishly looked for the shooter through his lens. Two sheriff’s deputies crouched at the entrance to the courthouse, guns drawn.

  “Keep down,” Amanda shouted as she pushed her client halfway under the car.

  “What happened?” Charlie asked.

  “Someone shot at you. Stay still. The shots came from the other side of the car. The chassis will block you from view.”

  Dennis Levy cowered on the floor in the back of Kate’s car. Kate crawled across the glass littering the front seat. She paused long enough to draw her gun before pushing open the passenger door and rolling to the pavement.

  “Are you okay?” Amanda asked.

  “Yeah.”

  Amanda heard a siren. Kate got to one knee and peeked over the hood. An ambulance was speeding toward them and the cameraman who had tried to locate the shooter was pointing the police toward a row of two-story commercial buildings several blocks away. When Kate was certain they were safe she signaled Amanda and the women helped Charlie to his feet.

  “You saved my life,” Charlie told Amanda.

  “Jaffe, Katz, Lehane and Brindisi is a full-service law firm,” she joked, trying to keep her tone light while she fought the shakes that grew worse as her adrenaline wore off.

  “I’m going to need a statement,” a police officer told Charlie. Charlie looked at Amanda.

  “It’s okay,” she said. “You’re the victim here. Did you see who shot at you?”

  “No. I was looking at the car door. I was going to get in when the window exploded. Then you pushed me to the ground.”

  “I’m afraid I can’t add anything to what Mr. Marsh said. I didn’t see a thing. As soon as the window exploded I knocked him down. After that, the car blocked my view.”

  “I’m going to need you to come inside anyway so the detectives can take a statement,” the officer told Amanda.

  “That’s okay. We’ll just be hounded by the reporters if we stay outside,” Amanda said just as Karl Burdett raced out of the courthouse followed by some of his staff.

  “What happened?” he asked Amanda.

  “A sniper took a shot at Mr. Marsh.” Burdett turned pale. Amanda pointed to the place where the police had gone. “He was probably on one of those buildings.”

  “This is terrible,” Burdett said, more to himself than Amanda. He looked stricken as he walked over to confer with one of the police officers, leaving Amanda confused by the DA’s reaction, which seemed wrong somehow, even given the upsetting event she had just witnessed.

  CHAPTER 32

  Amanda had reserved rooms for Charlie and Dennis in a boutique hotel on the outskirts of downtown Portland. Levy chattered nonstop during the ride to the hotel but Charlie barely uttered a word. Amanda attributed his silence to trauma from the assassination attempt, but Charlie was thinking about Nathan Tuazama.

  Charlie was exhausted when Amanda parked at the hotel. Levy invited them into the bar for a drink, but listening to the reporter drone on about himself was more than they could bear. Amanda begged off for both of them by saying that she had several matters to discuss with her client.

  When the elevator stopped at Charlie’s floor, they walked down the corridor to his room. Charlie was about to slide the key card into the slot when he saw that the door was ajar. His mouth went dry and his pulse accelerated. He should have run but he wasn’t thinking straight and he pushed the door open.

  The room looked like Hurricane Katrina had whipped through it. The mattress was off the bed and a knife had been taken to it. Stuffing from the mattress mixed with the contents of Charlie’s drawers and closet, which were strewn across the floor. The television had been dismantled and the air-conditioner had been ripped from the wall and taken apart.

  Amanda phoned the front desk and told them to call the police. When she hung up she turned to her client.

  “All right, Charlie, what’s going on here and does it have anything to do with the box I just stashed in my new safety-deposit box?”

  “Probably,” Charlie answered nervously.

  “Am I putting myself in danger because I’ve helped you?”

  Before Charlie could answer, Amanda’s cell phone rang. She fished it out of her purse and saw that Mike Greene was the caller. Amanda excused herself and walked into the hall.

  “I just heard about the shooting at the courthouse. Are you okay?” Mike asked.

  Amanda could hear the concern in his voice. This wasn’t the first time Amanda had had a brush with death. Mike had been with her right after her hairbreadth escape from the serial killer the press had nicknamed the Surgeon and shortly after she’d survived a home invasion by professional killers while she was representing Jon Dupre. Amanda was glad he’d called. Knowing that Mike cared for her was as calming as a cup of chamomile tea.

  “I’m fine. I was shaken up right after the shooting but I wasn’t hurt at all.”

  “Do you want me to come over tonight? I can bring Chinese.”

  “I think that’s a great idea. Look, I’m in the middle of something. Let me call you when I’m through and we’ll figure out tonight.”

  Amanda disconnected just as the manager and hotel securit
y stepped out of the elevator. After a brief look around, the manager told Charlie that he would move him to another room. Shortly after that two Portland Police officers walked in. While they were interviewing Amanda there was another knock on the door. Charlie turned. The man standing in the doorway looked familiar. When he saw Charlie was having trouble placing him, he held his hands out at his sides as if the greater exposure would solve Charlie’s problem.

  “It’s me, Charlie,” the man said. “Mickey Keys, your agent.”

  CHARLIE TOOK A good look at his onetime agent and crime partner as he escorted Keys to the end of the hall, where they would have some privacy. Keys was thin; not in a physically fit way but in the way someone looks when they’re not eating well because they can’t afford food. The collar of his shirt was frayed and the elbows of his jacket were shiny. There were lines on his face that hadn’t been there twelve years ago. His skin had a waxy pallor and there were dark circles under his eyes.

  “What are you doing here?” Charlie asked.

  “What do you mean, Charlie?” Keys said, flashing a tense smile that made him look desperate. “I’m your agent, your business manager. As soon as I heard you were back in the States, I got on the first plane West. I figured you’d need someone to set up appearances, handle your contracts. You know, like the old days.”

  “I’ve already got a contract for a new book. If I’m not on death row, my publisher will handle the bookings.”

  “You can’t cut me out, Charlie. We have a contract, too,” Mickey said, pulling a wrinkled and stained sheaf of papers out of his jacket pocket. “This is a copy, in case you lost yours. It makes me your agent.”

  “Our agreement ended when you cut a deal with the feds.”

  Keys pushed the papers at Charlie. “There’s nothing in our contract that lets you out of our arrangement. I’m entitled to fifteen percent of everything.”

  Charlie held his hand in the air, refusing to touch the contract. “You’re not getting a penny. You sold me out.”

  “I had to. They were going to make me do hard time if I didn’t come clean about the Inner Light scam and the second set of books. You were in Batanga, protected. I was out on a limb, all by myself.”

  “A business relationship requires trust, Mickey. How can I trust you after what you did?”

  “What I did was three years in a federal lockup while you were getting blow jobs on a tropical beach.”

  “Hey, man, I’m sorry you went to jail, but Batanga was no cakewalk. I’d have traded places with you in a nanosecond if I’d known what I was getting myself into. Why do you think I’m here facing a death sentence?”

  Keys dropped the tough posture and his shoulders sagged.

  “Look, Charlie, I’ll level with you. I’m desperate. The feds took everything. I’ve been working as a telemarketer, because no one will hire an ex-con to do anything else. I live in a hotel room with roaches. You’ve still got the money in your Swiss account and all this new dough. I had to give my money back as part of the plea bargain. I’ve got nothing.”

  “I can give you a few bucks, if that’s why you’re here.”

  Keys reddened. “I don’t want a handout. I want back in the game. I want to be a player, again.”

  “Then I can’t help you.”

  “I’ll hire a lawyer. I’ll sue and I’ll win.”

  “Do what you gotta do,” Charlie said before walking back to the chaos in his room.

  Keys leaned back against the wall. When he had pulled himself together, he started walking to the elevator, his head down, looking utterly defeated.

  “Mr. Keys.”

  Mickey looked up and found Charlie’s lawyer blocking the way.

  “Can I talk to you?” Amanda asked.

  “We’ll do our talking in court when I sue your client for breach of contract,” Keys answered, trying to sound like the tough negotiator he’d been before his fall.

  “I don’t know anything about your business problems with Mr. Marsh. I’m his criminal attorney.”

  “Then what do you want?”

  “You were at the Westmont when Congressman Pope was shot, weren’t you?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Would you be willing to talk to my investigator?”

  “About what?”

  “Anything you saw that will help us get a handle on what happened.”

  Keys looked incredulous. “You want me to help that ungrateful prick after what he just did to me?”

  “We just want to hear your version of what happened.”

  “My version, huh.” Keys stopped talking and Amanda could almost see the wheels turning inside his skull. “Well, let’s talk about that. My memory is a bit hazy right now. But I might be able to remember more clearly if my financial situation cleared up. So, why don’t you have a word with Charlie. When you get back to me—depending on the news—I’ll either be talking to your investigator or the DA.”

  CHAPTER 33

  The morning after the sniper attack, Amanda slept late and didn’t get to the offices of Jaffe, Katz, Lehane and Brindisi until nine. When she opened the door to the reception area, Dennis Levy was talking excitedly on his cell phone. He broke off his call as soon as he saw Amanda and sprang out of his chair, almost knocking the latte she was holding out of her hand when he thrust a copy of World News at her.

  “What do you think?” he asked proudly.

  “Not much until I’ve had my coffee,” Amanda answered, taking a step back from the keyed-up journalist.

  “Look,” Levy said, pointing just below the picture of Charlie Marsh that graced the magazine cover, where bright red block letters proclaimed, THE GURU RETURNS. Following the title was the byline, DENNIS LEVY.

  “That’s my story,” Levy declared.

  “Congratulations,” Amanda told him, impressed despite her dislike for the reporter.

  Levy flipped the magazine open to his story and directed Amanda to a column on the second page. “I told you you’d get a lot of publicity out of this,” he said.

  Amanda read the column. Sure enough, she was prominently featured as the lawyer Charlie had chosen to defend him.

  “Mrs. Brice overnighted this copy to me. It is literally hot off the press.”

  Amanda forced a smile. “It looks like you’re on your way, Dennis.”

  “So, what are we doing this morning?”

  “I’m not sure,” Amanda lied. “I do have other cases. Why don’t you wait out here while I get some caffeine in me and try to figure out my schedule? All that excitement at the courthouse threw it off.”

  “Sure thing,” Dennis said.

  As Amanda walked toward Kate’s office, she chanced a quick glance over her shoulder. Levy was smiling like the Cheshire Cat as he reread his magazine article. She couldn’t blame him for being proud.

  Amanda knocked on Kate’s doorjamb. “I have a problem,” she told her investigator. “I’m interviewing Sally Pope and I do not want Jimmy Olsen’s evil twin tagging along.”

  “Levy wants to look at the Pope file. I can set him up in the conference room and you can sneak out while he’s going through it.”

  “You’re brilliant.”

  “That’s why I get the big bucks.”

  “Just make sure he understands that he has to leave the file the way he found it. I haven’t had a chance to go through it yet.”

  “Will do. I’ll also take him with me when I interview Ralph Day.”

  “Who?”

  “He was Junior’s challenger in his last election.”

  “Right. That should keep him out of my hair.”

  WHILE HE WAITED for the receptionist to bring him coffee, Dennis studied the mountain of information spread across the conference table. The task of going through it was daunting but Levy loved research. He believed that it was his attention to detail that made him superior to the other reporters at World News.

  Kate’s trial book made it easier for Dennis to work through the material. She had explained how sh
e had organized everything from the file into piles relating to different topics. The first items Levy looked at were the autopsy report and photos, because he’d never covered any crime stories and he was curious. He flipped through them with only the tiniest emotional reaction and was pleased with himself. When he was through with the material concerning the cause of death, he pulled over another stack.

  An hour later, Dennis squared off a group of reports and stood up. As he stretched, he noticed something sticking out of a pile of witness interviews. He pulled it out and gave it a cursory inspection. He was about to put it back when something caught his eye. He pulled it closer and squinted. Then his eyes grew wide and his heart began to beat rapidly.

  “SO, WHAT’S IT like working for the Jaffes?” Dennis Levy asked as he and Kate drove to Ralph Day’s office. The reporter had been talking nonstop since he’d gotten in Kate’s car and he couldn’t sit still. The constant chatter and twitching was getting on Kate’s nerves.

  “Most of the time it’s just routine stuff. You know, witness interviews, like today. Internet searches.”

  “It must be pretty exciting when you’re investigating a big case, like Charlie’s.”

  “The job has its moments,” Kate answered ambiguously, choosing to keep to herself the details of the harrowing situations in which she’d been involved since going to work for Jaffe, Katz, Lehane and Brindisi.

  “Any background you can give me on Amanda? Things that aren’t public knowledge that might spice up my stories.”

  “You mean like her affair with Brad Pitt or the identity of the father of her secret love child?” Kate answered, keeping her eyes on the road ahead.

  Levy’s laugh sounded forced. “That’s good. Yeah, that would help sell magazines.”

  “I’m afraid Amanda doesn’t have a lot of secrets and—if she did—she’d have to be the person to tell them to you.”

  “Oh, come on. There’s got to be something.”

  “What makes you think I’d dish dirt about a good friend?”