Staring at the camera, as if trying to convince it of something. Sniff.
“I was to find out, subsequently, that I had been defrauded by both Mr. Lowell and Mr. Trafficant, in that Command: Shed the Light had been written not by Mr. Lowell but by Mr. Trafficant and passed off by Mr. Lowell to the artistic and literary community, and to the public at large, as an original work. I learned this in conversation with Mr. Trafficant, who showed me his original handwritten notes for the book and gave them to me for safekeeping in exchange for a sum of money. I remain in possession of said notes and am willing to offer them as evidence in the prosecution of Mr. Lowell for the murder of Mr. Trafficant, a crime I have personal knowledge of because Mr. Lowell confessed it to me, several days after the deed, when I confronted him with the evidence of his plagiarism and fraud.”
Deep breath.
“That’s all I have to say at this time.”
MacIlhenny smiled. Bleichert frowned.
Leah said, “So you want to trade Lowell for everything you’ve done.”
App folded the paper.
“All we’ve got on Lowell,” said Leah, “is your word for it.”
“And the notes,” said MacIlhenny.
“If they’re authentic. And even if they are, all they prove is fraud. On a dead victim. So big deal.”
“A murdered victim.”
“I haven’t heard any evidence of murder except Mr. App’s say-so.”
“Would a body help?”
“Depending on whose it is.”
“Tsk, tsk, young lady. Let’s not be coy.”
Bleichert said, “Whose corpus, Land?”
“Speaking theoretically? Let’s say Mr. Trafficant’s.”
“Where is it?”
MacIlhenny smiled and shook his head.
“Withholding information on a homicide case, Land?”
MacIlhenny looked down at his chest rolls. His breasts were as big as a stripper’s. “I have no personal information, Stan. All my conversations with Mr. App have remained on a strictly theoretical basis.”
“Is this body theoretical, too?” said Leah.
MacIlhenny winked but ignored her. “I’m offering you a gift, Stan. Wrapped and ribboned. This could be your biggest case: internationally acclaimed author, major fraud, plagiarism, bloodshed. We’re talking Time magazine cover and you write the true crime book.”
Leah said, “As opposed to your client the piker, with multiple homicides and enough dope to stuff half the noses in Hollywood.”
“My client never won the Pulitzer.”
“Your client murdered more than one person.”
“Tsk, tsk.” MacIlhenny laughed softly. “Slander and libel. Where’s your proof?”
“I’ve got eyewitness testimony.”
“Tainted witness. Long history of drug abuse, and your own case against him for attempted murder gives him an obvious motive to lie. His word against my client’s?”
“Biggest case of the year,” said Leah. “Does Mr. App get to buy the film option?”
MacIlhenny gave her a pitying look. “Mr. App will no longer be engaged in the motion picture business. When the dust clears, Mr. App will be retiring.”
“When the dust clears?” she said. “I see dust storms on the horizon. Tornadoes.”
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.”