Self-Defence

company in which I am a substantial shareholder, and whom I believed, at the time, to be a major talent and of excellent personal character. Likewise, a writer, Denton Mellors, whose true name I have since learned was Darnel Mullins, an African-American novelist, for whom I found employment in the business affairs office of my motion picture production company and, when he proved to lack skills in that area, as a manager of several motor inns that I own.'

Throat clearing. 'I might add that I am also a substantial contributor to the United Negro College Fund.'

MacIlhenny arched an eyebrow and handed him a glass of water.

He drank and read. 'Another individual I met through Lowell was a writer named Terrence Trafficant. Trafficant had spent time in prison and wrote about his experiences in a prison diary entitled From Hunger to Rage. Lowell took Trafficant in, as a protege, helped him get paroled, and aided in getting the diary published. It became a best-seller. At Lowell's urging, I read said book and optioned it for development into a motion picture, advancing money to Terrence Trafficant.'

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.'

'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.'