“Well, I don’t,” Pope said. “And even if I did, you’re the only person who can link me to Sally’s murder and the attempts on Marsh.”

Suddenly, Tony realized that the drop cloth was covering the floor so his blood wouldn’t stain Pope’s precious hardwood. That flash of insight occurred simultaneously with the flash from the muzzle of the gun Derrick Barclay had aimed at his brain while Senior was distracting him.

“Get rid of his car and get this garbage out of my sight, Derrick,” Pope said without a trace of emotion.

DERRICK BARCLAY WAS much stronger than he looked but it was still a strain to drag the drop cloth-wrapped corpse through the house and out the back door where an old Cadillac was waiting. He was sweating profusely by the time Rose was loaded into the trunk and he took several deep breaths before getting into the driver’s seat.

A timber baron had a terrific advantage in a situation like this. Pope owned vast acres of forest land where a corpse could be buried with little chance of discovery. There had been other occasions when Barclay had disposed of unwanted items like Tony Rose, and he had found a lovely spot in the middle of an old-growth forest for the dearly departed. If there was life after death, Barclay hoped that Mr. Pope’s victims appreciated his choice of a final resting place.

As soon as he had taken care of Rose, Barclay planned to use the dead man’s credit card to buy a one-way ticket to Germany. Then he would leave Rose’s car in the long-term parking lot at the Portland airport and take public transportation into town. With luck, the police would think that Rose had panicked and fled the country.

Two hours after leaving Washington County, Barclay turned off a two-lane state highway onto a dirt logging road that had not been used for many years. Twenty minutes later, he stopped the car near a narrow trail that would be invisible to someone who didn’t know it existed. Barclay walked around to the trunk. He flexed his knees, took hold of the body through the drop cloth, and hauled Rose out of the car. Then he hoisted the corpse over his shoulders in a fireman’s carry, grabbed the shovel he’d leaned against the side of the car, and tramped into the woods.

Barclay had walked a short way when he heard a rustling in the underbrush. Rose’s dead weight hurt his shoulders and legs but he paused to listen for any indication that someone was stalking him. When he didn’t hear anything, he decided an animal had caused the sound. Shortly before he reached his destination, Barclay thought he heard a twig snap. Was someone following him? No, that was impossible. He would have seen a car on the sparsely traveled country roads. His shoulders ached and he hurried the rest of the way so he could unload his burden. As soon as the body was on the ground, he flexed his back and shoulders. Then he paused to listen again, still spooked by the sounds he thought he’d heard. Except for the wind and the leaves it rustled, all was quiet.

Digging a grave was hard work and it required focus. That’s why Barclay didn’t hear Quentin Randolph and his partner, Nathan Rask, until they were almost on him. The sheriff’s deputies were responding to a 911 call relayed to them by their dispatcher. The caller had a funny accent but he had given very specific directions to a site where he claimed a man was burying a body. Quentin thought the report might be a prank, but it was a quiet evening and checking out the call gave him something to do.

CHAPTER 47

Wanda Simmons, the acting district attorney for Washington County, was a severe-looking career prosecutor with frizzy red hair and a perpetually harried expression. Simmons, who had no life away from her cases, always wore identical rumpled navy blue skirts and jackets over identical wrinkled white blouses. Amanda suspected that Simmons put up with the time it took to get dressed only because she wouldn’t be allowed in court if she was naked.

“Who wants to tell me why we’re having this secret meeting?” Marshall Berkowitz asked as he looked back and forth between Simmons and Amanda.

“I’m going to dismiss the case against Mr. Marsh,” the DA told the judge. “Neither party wanted a media circus.”

Berkowitz raised his eyebrows in surprise as Amanda nodded her assent. Charlie Marsh, whom Amanda had ordered to speak only when she told him to, sat quietly at his lawyer’s side.

“Care to tell me why you’re dismissing?” the judge asked.

“You know that Derrick Barclay, Arnold Pope Sr.’s assistant, was arrested while he was burying Tony Rose on forest land owned by one of Pope’s companies.”

The judge nodded. The arrest of Arnold Pope and Derrick Barclay was the talk of the county.

“Barclay has been cooperating since his arrest and he’s told us a lot we didn’t know about Senior’s involvement in this case. Twelve years ago, Senior pressured Karl to prosecute Mr. Marsh and his daughter-in-law. Karl had no intention of charging Mrs. Pope until Senior turned the screws. Barclay also says that Pope wanted Rose murdered because he believed that Rose killed his son.

“I’ve had a chance to study our evidence and I see a number of serious problems with the case. I had no idea how weak it was until I went through the file after Karl was murdered. Our biggest problem is that Werner Rollins has retracted his statement that he saw Mr. Marsh shoot Congressman Pope. Rollins was the only witness who put the murder weapon in Mr. Marsh’s hand. Rollins tells us that he said he saw Mr. Marsh shoot the congressman because Karl threatened to prosecute him for the assault on the security guard if he didn’t. Without Rollins’s testimony, we don’t have a case. Any number of people, including Tony Rose, could have shot the congressman. Now that Rose is dead we’ll never know if he’s guilty, but he’s now as viable a suspect as Mr. Marsh and several other people who were standing near Mr. Marsh when the fatal shot was fired.

“Then there’s the problem of the note and the photographs. Twelve years ago, when Sally Pope was prosecuted, it was the state’s theory that Mrs. Pope and Mr. Marsh lured the congressman to the Westmont by sending him several scandalous photographs showing the two of them in situations that suggested that they were lovers, and an anonymous note saying that Mr. Marsh and the congressman’s wife would be at the Westmont for one of Mr. Marsh’s seminars. Frank Jaffe developed proof that Senior was behind the photographs and the anonymous note that lured Junior to the Westmont.”

“I never knew that,” Judge Berkowitz said.

“It’s not public knowledge. In fact, the evidence and the transcript of the hearing where the information was revealed were sealed. Amanda told me about the evidence soon after I was given Mr. Marsh’s case.

“I’ve given this matter a lot of thought and I’ve decided that I would have a reasonable doubt about Mr. Marsh’s guilt if I was on his jury. I can’t go forward in good conscience feeling that way.”

“AM I FREE?” Charlie asked as soon as he and Amanda were alone in her car.

“It’s over, Charlie. Of course, there’s no statute of limitations on a murder charge. Theoretically you could be indicted again if new evidence implicating you turned up. But I doubt that will ever happen, since we both know what really took place at the Westmont.”

“What’s going to happen now?” Charlie asked.

“Whenever you’re ready, Brice’s corporate jet will fly you and Levy to New York so you can work on the book.”

“Levy is going to be pissed when he hears the case is over,” Charlie said with a smile. “He was counting on my trial and dramatic acquittal for the last chapter.”

CHARLIE’S EUPHORIA LASTED as long as it took for Nathan Tuazama to slip into the elevator when it arrived in the hotel lobby.