“That was Gina.”

“Sally’s kid tried to warn me, but the killer had taped his mouth shut so I didn’t know what he was saying. Then this guy came out from behind the curtains and shot me.”

“You’re certain it was a man?”

“Pretty certain. He was wearing a ski mask and gloves, but he had a man’s physique.”

“Okay, what happened next?”

“Just before I was shot I heard someone behind me, but I was shot before I could turn. There were more shots behind and in front of me and glass breaking. I’m guessing that was the French windows. Then I woke up here.”

“So there were two shooters,” Amanda mused. “That might explain the 911 call.”

“What 911 call?”

“It’s why you didn’t bleed to death. Someone made an anonymous call to 911. Otherwise you wouldn’t have been found in time to save you. When the medics arrived you were almost dead from blood loss. I’m guessing that the person who saved you also made the call.”

The door opened and the police guard stepped in. He didn’t look happy.

“There’s a man out here who insists he’s part of the defense team. He wants to talk to Mr. Marsh.”

“Tell this cop I work with you and I’m entitled to see our client,” Dennis Levy yelled angrily from the corridor.

“Excuse me,” Amanda said to Charlie. She stepped outside and grabbed Levy by the elbow.

“Come with me,” she said as she led Dennis down the hall until they were far enough from the officer so he couldn’t hear them.

“You are not a member of the defense team,” Amanda said. “You are a reporter and you have no legal right to talk to Charlie.”

“Now wait a minute. This story is huge,” Levy said as he bounced in place with excitement.

“Aren’t you the least bit concerned that Charlie was shot?”

“Hey, I’m sorry he was hurt. Really, I am. But you have no idea how big this story is. I mean, no idea!”

“I know how big you think it is because you’ve told me several times. What you haven’t shown me is any compassion toward any of the people involved. Has it gotten through to you that several people were murdered last night? They’re dead, Dennis.”

“Hey, reporters deal with death all the time. If I got emotionally involved I couldn’t do my job.”

“Your lack of emotional involvement is pretty obvious, but I can’t shut off my emotions. I do care about Sally Pope and Gina and Charlie, who are all human beings. Charlie could have died. I bet that would really have messed up your plans. Now go to the waiting room and don’t bother the police officer anymore. I’ll tell you what I can when I come out.”

Amanda waited until Dennis turned the corner, before approaching the guard.

“I apologize for Mr. Levy. He gets overzealous at times.”

The officer nodded but he still looked angry. When Amanda reentered Charlie’s room he was staring at his blanket, deep in thought.

“There’s something I want to tell you,” Charlie said.

“Go ahead.”

“I was lying here thinking about how I almost died and what I’ve done with my life. Before Freddy went nuts and kidnapped those hostages I was nobody, a petty crook. Then I got to be somebody but it was because I lied.”

“It was because you saved the hostages.”

“You know why I threw myself over that guard? I didn’t give a shit about him. I did it for me. I knew I’d be in jail for life if Freddy killed him. That’s the only reason I did it, to save my skin, not his.

“And that inner light bullshit. That’s all it was, bullshit. I didn’t see any lights when I got shot just now and I didn’t see any when I was stabbed. Mickey Keys thought up that gimmick because it would get me on TV. And he was right. Everyone ate it up, but it never happened. Neither did half the stuff I wrote in my book. Or at least it didn’t happen to me. Freddy committed most of those crimes and was in the fights. I’m a coward. I’ve never gotten into a fight I could run from and I never used a gun or…Well, you get the picture. So, I’ve been thinking. I should set the record straight in my new book. I should tell the truth. If I do, what do you think Dennis will say?”

“I don’t know and, frankly, I don’t care. In the end, you have to do what you think is right, no matter what Levy thinks. Right now, however, you should talk to the police so they can catch the person who killed Sally and tried to kill you.”

Amanda left and Charlie thought about what he’d just said. He could tell the truth about some of the things that he’d lied about, but he wouldn’t tell the whole truth about what had happened at the Westmont Country Club the night Arnold Pope Jr. died, unless he had no choice.

CHAPTER 39

The day after Sally Pope’s murder, the PI in Denver called Kate to tell her he’d located Werner Rollins. Until a month ago, Rollins had been serving time in the Colorado State Penitentiary for armed robbery, but he was currently on parole. Kate talked to Henrietta Swift, Rollins’s parole officer, who called back an hour later to tell Kate that Rollins had agreed to meet her.

During the two-and-a-half-hour flight from Portland to Denver, Dennis Levy didn’t hit on Kate once or brag about how great he was, and he never mentioned how famous he was going to be. He seemed preoccupied as he worked on his laptop or stared out the window. Kate wondered why the reporter was so quiet, but she didn’t want to press her luck by asking.

The meeting with Rollins was at a sports bar near Coors Field. They had a late flight back to Portland, so Kate rented a car at the airport and drove into Denver. It was a spectacular summer day and it took a moment for Kate’s eyes to adjust from the bright midday sunlight to the dim light in the bar, but it didn’t take long to pick out Rollins in the crowd of lunch-time patrons. He was the only man sitting alone at a table in a wheelchair.

Rollins’s parole officer had briefed Kate about the high-speed chase that had led to a prison term for armed robbery and cost Rollins his legs, but she hadn’t prepared Kate for the real toll the accident had taken on the gangster. The Werner Rollins of Kate’s imagination was a meaner version of Conan the Barbarian. There was nothing menacing about the man in the stained Denver Broncos T-shirt who was working on his second pitcher of beer. Despair had beaten the life out of Rollins and hard living had changed the sharp planes of his steroid-enhanced physique into flab.

“Mr. Rollins?” Kate asked as they drew close to his table.

Rollins looked away from the ball game airing on one of the large-screen TVs that were scattered around the bar.

“This is Dennis Levy and I’m Kate Ross, an investigator working for Charlie Marsh. Thank you for taking the time to meet with us.”

“Yeah, well, my social secretary was able to find time for you on my busy schedule, and Henrietta said you’d spring for my beer. It was a no-brainer.”

Kate smiled. “May we?” she asked, indicating one of the chairs at the table.

“Be my guest.”

“Dennis is a reporter. He’s covering Charlie’s trial for World News. Do you have a problem with him sitting in on our conversation?”

Rollins shrugged. Kate had the impression that he didn’t care much about anything anymore.

“So how’s old Charlie doing?” Rollins asked.

“He’s had a rough time. I don’t know how closely you’ve been following his case, but there have been two attempts to kill him. He was shot during the second attempt and he’s in the hospital.”

“That’s tough,” Rollins said without much conviction.

“I understand that you were Charlie’s friend,” Kate said.

“You got that wrong. We were never buddy-buddy. I tolerated him because of Freddy.”

“Freddy Clayton?”

Rollins nodded. “They were like Batman and Robin. Freddy took the little punk everywhere. If I didn’t know Freddy real good I woulda thought they were faggots.” Rollins tossed a quick glance at Dennis, smirked, and added, “No offense.”