MacIlhenny turned away from her and back to Bleichert. App remained silent and motionless.
"You're offering squat, Land," said Bleichert.
"On the contrary, I'm offering you fame and fortune and the chance to put an icon on trial in return for dropping all charges on a couple of diddly cases you don't stand a chance of proving."
"If you think we're so weak, why bargain?"
MacIlhenny pulled shirt fabric out of a fold of flesh. "In the interests of justice and efficiency. Mr. App is no youngster. Every day spent away from hearth and home wears on him severely. He recognizes he has certain… personal problems due to chemical dependency. He is willing to undergo medical and psychiatric treatment for these problems as well as to offer his considerable talents to the community in exchange for no jail time, beyond what's been served, and no full-court attempt to employ the confiscatory powers of the RICO statutes."
"Betty Ford and community service for multiple murder and dope laundering?" said Leah. "When do you take this act to Vegas?"
Bleichert said nothing. She tried not to look at him, but failed.
MacIlhenny was looking at him, too.
"There has to be some time served," said Bleichert. "But I can conceive of its being at Lompoc or somewhere like that. As far as RICO, you know that's not our bailiwick."
"I've already talked to the DEA, Stan, and they're willing to go along with partial confiscation in return for some valuable information about foreign narcotics commerce currently in my client's possession. The hang-up's these alleged homicides. They don't want to be put in an awkward position."
"Like going easy on a multiple murderer?" said Leah.
Bleichert raised an eyebrow at her. She crossed her legs and looked away. MacIlhenny allowed himself a tiny smile.
Bleichert said, "Some jail time. I mean it, Land."
MacIlhenny glanced at App. "I suppose we can live with that. At a federal facility, protective custody."
"So what happens on Mellors and Barnard?" said Leah, looking at MacIlhenny but adressing Bleichert. "Talk about being in an awkward position. Especially when Lowell's case hits the fan. We'll never be able to keep it quiet. The minute his attorney finds out about the deal and squawks, we'll come across softer on crime than the ACLU."
"Tsk, tsk-"
"She's got a point," said Bleichert.
"Come on, Stan," said MacIlhenny. "What kind of crime are we talking about? A scumbag private eye blackmailer and the scumbag motel manager who killed him? Weigh that against the chance to try Lowell."
"Afro-American scumbag motel manager," said Leah. "Trading black life for white life? Can't you just see the NAACP having fun with that? And let's not forget, Lowell's victim was no choirboy, either. Is anyone going to care what an old man did twenty years ago?"
"There's a substantial difference, young lady."
"Sure, someone else's client'll be facing the heat."
Bleichert chewed his lip. App looked at him. First interest he'd shown in the proceedings.
Bleichert said, "I hear everything you're saying, Land, but she raises a valid consideration."
Talking about Leah as if she wasn't there.
MacIlhenny thought for a while. "There could be other evidence, Stan. Theoretically."
"Like what?"
"Audiotapes. Terrence Trafficant telling his story."
Leah said, "Theoretical." She looked disgusted.
MacIlhenny shrugged. Pounds of flesh shivered. "It's been a long time. Memories fade. Clean out an attic, no telling what you'll find."
"Malibu attic?" said Leah. "Or the one in Holmby Hills?"
"Here's my offer," said Bleichert, "take it or leave it. Mr. App confesses to his involvement in Karen Best, Felix Barnard, and Denton Mellors. Involuntary manslaughter on Best, conspiracy-second on Barnard because Mellors was the shooter, and straight second degree on Mellors, all sentences to run concurrently. If we avoid a trial-"
"Stan, Stan."
"Hold on, Land. If we avoid a trial and if Lowell is convicted of first degree because of information provided by Mr. App, Mr. App's sentences are suspended."
Leah's huge eyes were hot skillets.
MacIlhenny pretended to deliberate.
"Just one thing, Stan," said Leah. "By all accounts, Barnard was premeditated. We could go for Conspiracy One and by the same token, straight One on-"
Bleichert shushed her with a short, angry hand movement.
MacIlhenny said, "What do you mean by confession?"
"Written, sworn, all the details, no evasion of questions, full acknowledgment of complicity."
"Like in church," said App softly.
MacIlhenny's eyebrows sank. "What about the dope?"
"If you can work it out with the feds, total walk," said Bleichert. "But only if he admits guilt in writing and only if his information leads directly to Lowell's conviction. And no own-recognizance, he stays put. What I said before about Lompoc stands, and I'll grant you the protective custody- hell, I'll put him on a cellblock with ex-senators."
Leah cracked her knuckles.
Bleichert said, "Why don't you go get all the files, Lee? So we know what to ask Mr. App."
She stomped out of the room and walked right past me.
Just as the door to the hall slammed, MacIlhenny said, "Pretty girl."
App and MacIlhenny conferred with the sound off and App started dictating to the lawyer.
During the break, Bleichert returned to his office and Leah Schwartz to hers.
Before she left she said, "Going to wait here?"
"Till Milo gets here."
"Well, be careful. Hang around here too long, you'll need to be disinfected."
She slammed the door and App heard it through the glass and jumped. His fear had always been there, hiding just beneath the cashmere.
MacIlhenny patted his shoulder and App resumed dictating.
Twenty minutes later, Milo still hadn't come back from accompanying Lucy and I wondered why.
A half hour after that, MacIlhenny stopped writing.
Bleichert ran his finger down the center of the page. Speed-reading. Then a slower perusal.
He put it down.
"It says nothing in here about who shot Mr. Mellors."
"A guy named Jeffries," said App, as if it didn't matter. "Leopold Jeffries. He got killed himself, five years ago- check the police files."
"What did you have to do with Mr. Jeffries's death?"
App smiled. "Nothing at all. The police shot him, in the middle of a robbery. Leopold Earl Jeffries- check it out."
Calm again.
Bleichert read the confession again. "This is okay, for a start." Putting it in his pocket. "Now fill me in on Trafficant."
App looked at MacIlhenny. The fat lawyer sucked his cheeks.
"There are tapes," said App. "At my house in Lake Arrowhead. Feel free to get them without a warrant. They're in the basement, behind one of the refrigerators."
"One of them?" said Bleichert, writing.
"I have two basement refrigerators at Arrowhead. For parties. Two Sub-Zeros. Behind the one on the right is a wall safe. The tapes are in there, I'll get you the combination. They've got Terry Trafficant telling me everything. I taped him because I thought one day it might be historically significant. Terry got fed up with Lowell's manipulation and looked to me as someone he could trust. I paid him every penny of his option money. I also paid him for a screenplay he did. Every penny."
"In return for all his future royalties?" said Leah.
"That, too," said App. "He got the better end of the deal. I haven't earned a thing in years."
"What kind of screenplay?" said Bleichert.
"Not really a full script, just a summary of some horror flick- Friday the Thirteenth type of thing, women getting chopped up by a maniac."
"Title?"
"The Bride."