“Charlie and I never discussed murdering my husband.”

“Then you know Marsh?”

Sally paused. “I’m not a good person, Mr. Jaffe. I’ve cheated on my husband many times. I was cheating on him with Charlie Marsh. But I loved Arnie. I know that sounds contradictory but our relationship was complicated, and Senior is responsible for that.”

“Why don’t you explain what was going on.”

“I’m what people of breeding call trailer trash.” Sally laughed bitterly. “The description is pretty accurate. A good part of my early years was spent in trailer parks. My father was someone passing through town, so I have no idea who he is. My mother was a drunk, but in a dark tavern, after a guy had downed a few, she was an attractive enough drunk to catch a few men before they realized how bad a bargain they’d made. Then she’d be out in the cold again, looking for shelter and the next bottle.

“I grew up fast. I know now that I’ve got a pretty good mind, but while I was growing up the boys were never interested in that part of my anatomy.” Sally laughed again, self-consciously. “My mother was my role model. I was the high school slut and a high school dropout, and I used sex to get what I wanted. The one thing I did right was waiting to get knocked up until I met someone with money. And that’s where Arnie comes in.

“Senior convinced him to enlist after college because being a Marine would look good when Arnie ran for office-something Senior started working for on the day Arnie was born. But Senior screwed up. When Arnie went into the Marines it was the first time in his life that he was out from under his father’s thumb.

“Arnie was at Camp Pendleton completing his Marine Infantry Training. I was working in a restaurant near the base. He came in a few times on leave and we started dating. Freud might say that our courtship was Arnie’s way of rebelling against his father. I was a waitress with no education to speak of, someone he knew his father would loathe.”

Sally looked very sad. “I told you I’m not a good person. Our marriage is proof of that. As soon as I found out who Arnie was and how much money he had I tricked him into getting me pregnant. It wasn’t hard. He said he loved me. I think he did. When I told him I was pregnant he seemed happy. He’s the one who said we should get married. I don’t think he thought about the consequences.”

“Did you tell his father?”

Sally shook her head. “We went to Las Vegas over a weekend. Senior didn’t know until it was too late.”

“How did he react?”

“Not well. He tried to get the marriage annulled but Arnie stood up to him. It was probably the only time in his life that he showed any backbone. That’s when I fell in love with him.” She shook her head. “I have to admit, it took me by surprise. I went into the marriage for the money, but Arnie was this big, sweet kid, and I really started looking forward to having a baby.”

“Did Arnold Sr. mellow when the baby was born?”

“Not one degree. Senior is relentless when he wants to get his way. When Arnie wouldn’t file for divorce, he poisoned him against me by spreading rumors that I was sleeping around; rumors that had no basis until Senior got to me.”

“How did he do that?”

“By beating down Arnie until I came to despise both of them. Senior couldn’t control me. I was too tough for him. So he wrecked our marriage by constantly making Arnie choose between us. Arnie was so whipped he sided with his father rather than face him like a man. That’s when I started sleeping around. I just wanted to wake him up and that was the only way I could think to do it. I never enjoyed the affairs. They were just a way of fighting back. I wanted him to stand up to someone, even if it was me, but he didn’t have the guts.”

A tear rolled down Sally’s cheek. “Until the night he died, that is. That was the first time in a long time that he acted like a man.”

Frank’s client looked down at her lap, where her clenched fists lay.

“I know I hurt him-and there were times when I despised him-but I really loved him.”

Her voice was barely above a whisper. Her suffering brought back the pain Frank had felt when Samantha died.

“Do you want some water?” he asked.

Sally shook her head but she still couldn’t speak. Frank waited patiently. When she was calmer he asked a question he hoped would take her mind off her husband.

“Does anyone know where Marsh is?”

“There are rumors that he’s somewhere in Africa-a country that doesn’t have an extradition treaty with the U.S.-but the rumors haven’t been confirmed as far as I know.”

Frank made some notes. “I think this is enough for today,” he said when he was through. “I guess I don’t have to tell you that you shouldn’t discuss your case with anyone but me or my investigator-and I mean anyone. No one but me, or someone who works for me, can use the attorney-client privilege to prevent being compelled to testify against you. If a reporter, detective, anyone, approaches you about the case, just tell them your attorney has directed you to refrain from commenting. That’s it. Just cut them off.

“Meanwhile, I’m going to let Karl Burdett know that I’m your lawyer and you’re off-limits. I’m also going to try to find out what the evidence is that has him believing he can convince a jury beyond a reasonable doubt that you’re guilty of murder.”

A week after Sally Pope hired Frank, she was charged with murder and conspiracy to commit murder. Two days after Sally’s arraignment and release on bail, Frank was cross-referencing phone calls made by a heroin dealer in a federal narcotics case when Herb Cross stuck his head in the door. A few years back, Cross, a slender, bookish African-American, had been mistakenly identified as a robber by a white convenience-store clerk. He told Frank he had an alibi but Frank’s investigator was new and inept and had failed to locate any of the people Cross swore could clear him. Frustrated by the investigator’s incompetence, Cross went off on his own and located the men. After the DA dismissed the case, Frank refunded Cross’s retainer, fired his investigator, and offered Cross the job.

“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.”