that the policeman would see through her the moment he looked at her.
“Officer, I’m Leroy Ganett, Mr. Morelli’s doctor. This is Ami Vergano, an attorney who’s been hired to represent Mr. Morelli. She’d like to talk to him.”
The policeman asked Ami for her bar card and picture ID. Ami handed him the card and her driver’s license. While she waited for him to ask the incisive questions that would expose her, the policeman checked her face against her photograph.
“You’ll have to leave your purse out here,” the policeman said as he handed back her ID. “Don’t give the prisoner anything. Okay?”
Ami nodded, finding it hard to believe how easy it had been to get in to see Morelli.
“Do you want me to come in with you?” Dr. Ganett asked.
“I have to see him alone. Attorney-client confidentiality, you know,” Ami answered, successfully hiding her nervousness.
“Then I’ll get back to my work,” Ganett said as the officer opened the door to Morelli’s room.
“Thank you for the help.”
The doctor smiled. “No problem.”
“Knock when you’re through,” the policeman told Ami before closing the door after her.
The hospital room was spartan. Two plain metal chairs and a squat metal chest of drawers stood against the wall. There were bars on the windows. Morelli’s bed had been cranked up so that he was partially sitting. He stared at Ami without expression. His complexion was pale and his cheeks were hollow, but his gaze was intense. A nasogastric tube, leading from his stomach to his nose, was taped to the side of his left nostril, and a bottle containing a clear solution was suspended over the bed. It dripped its contents into another tube that had been inserted into Morelli’s left forearm. Ami walked over to the bed and looked down at the injured man.
“Hello, Dan. How are you feeling?”
“Not great, but better than I did a few days ago.”
“Dr. Ganett says you’re doing well.”
“Did he say what’s going to happen to me?”
“You’ll stay in the security ward of the county hospital until you’re well enough to be transferred to the jail.”
“That’s not good,” Morelli said, more to himself than to Ami.
“Have you been locked up before?”
“In ’Nam,” he answered softly, his mind far away from the reality of the hospital.
“Were you a soldier? Is that where you learned how to fight like that?”
The question snapped Morelli back to reality. “How did you get in to see me?” he asked, suddenly suspicious.
“What do you mean?”
“You’re the only visitor I’ve had except for a detective and some guy from the DA’s office. Why would they let you in?”
Ami reddened. “I told them I was your lawyer.”
Morelli’s eyes widened and he became agitated. “That’s no good. You shouldn’t have done that. Go out and tell them you’re not.”
“Why?”
“Just take my word. You need to stay away from me. It won’t be good for you or Ryan if our friendship becomes general knowledge.”
“It’s too late for that,” Ami answered bitterly. “The fact that we know you has been splashed all over the papers and TV. The media can’t get enough of the story of the Little League game that turned into a bloodbath. They’ve made my life and Ryan’s miserable.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know. I haven’t seen a television or read a paper since…”
Morelli’s voice trailed off. He looked very worried.
“Ryan misses you,” Ami said.
“Did he see what happened?”
“Of course. You were lying there in a pool of blood. He thought you were dead.”
Morelli’s features softened and he hung his head. “I never wanted those kids to see that.”
“Then why did you do it?”
The prisoner shook his head slowly. “I don’t know. It just happened so fast. If I could, I’d take it back.”
Morelli looked at Ami. He was distraught. “You have to go. I appreciate that you came, but don’t come back, please. And tell Ryan that I’m okay. I don’t want him worrying about me.”
“I’ll tell him, but I do have something I need to talk over with you before I go.”
“What’s that?”
“I really am your lawyer in a way. A woman hired me to represent you, this morning. She says that she can help you. I told her I couldn’t handle your case. I don’t know anything about criminal law. But I did agree to give you a message.”
“Who is she?”
“Her name is Vanessa Kohler.” Morelli looked stricken. “She says she knew you in high school and that you met again in the mid-eighties. She’s staying at the Hilton in room 709. I have her phone number.”
“No! You tell Vanessa I’m not going to see her. Tell her to stay away from me. Tell her to go home.”
“But she thinks she knows a way to help you.”
Morelli’s features tightened. “Do as I say, Ami. Tell her to go home. And I don’t want you coming around either. It’s not safe to be around me.”
“But Dan…”
“Get out,” he yelled. “Get out now. I don’t want to talk to you anymore.”
Ami was upset when she left the hospital. She’d never imagined that Morelli would reject her assistance so forcefully. During the ride back Ami tried looking at the situation from his point of view, and her anger cooled. Dan was seriously wounded and facing incarceration. He was a man who loved the outdoors and he would probably end up in prison. His future was very bleak. As Dr. Ganett had said, it would be normal to be depressed in Dan’s situation, and it was selfish to expect Morelli to be pleasant and grateful for her visit.
Morelli’s reaction to finding out that Vanessa Kohler was in town was also understandable. He hadn’t seen the woman since the mid-1980s. Ami had no idea what their relationship had been like twenty years ago. Vanessa was definitely odd. Maybe Morelli had never liked her and did not want her sticking her nose into his business.
In any event, Ami thought as she opened the door to the reception area, her work on Morelli’s case was over. He’d made that crystal-clear. She would call Vanessa Kohler and tell her that Morelli did not want her to represent him and did not want to talk to either of them.
“Mrs. Vergano,” the receptionist said, the moment Ami stepped into the waiting room, “these gentlemen are here to see you.”
Two men in business suits stood up and studied her in a way that made Ami very uncomfortable. They both looked like take-charge types. The taller of the two was handsome in a male model sort of way. His sharp features would photograph well from any angle, but they were so perfect that they looked a little off, like a really good attempt at computer animation. The other man was shorter and bulkier. His hair was not blow-dried like the model’s and his clothes were less expensive. Ami thought his nose had probably been broken. He had the look of someone who did not believe anyone, ever.
“Ami Vergano?” the taller man asked unpleasantly.
“Yes.”
“I’m Brendan Kirkpatrick of the Multnomah County District Attorney’s office. This is Howard Walsh, a detective with the Portland Police. We’d like a word with you.”
“Sure,” Ami said, forcing a smile. She knew this had to be about Morelli’s case, and she felt like a kid who’d been caught with her hand in the cookie jar. “Come on back to my office.”
As soon as they were in the office, Kirkpatrick and Walsh took seats without being asked.
“What’s this about?” Ami asked, hoping that she sounded pristinely innocent.
Kirkpatrick fixed Ami with a look that told her he wasn’t buying anything she had to sell.
“I just received a very disturbing call. You know Dr. Leroy Ganett, don’t you?”
