“I know but I want to know if it’s okay with you. Know what I mean?”
I looked out the window and thought a moment before answering. Then I looked back at him in the mirror.
“Yes, it’s all right with me. But I’ll tell you something, Cisco. She’s one of the four most important people in my life. You have maybe seventy-five pounds on me – and granted, all of them in muscle. But if you hurt her, I’m going to find a way to hurt you back. That okay with you?”
He looked away from the mirror to the road ahead. We were in the exit line, moving slowly. The striking writers were massing out on the sidewalk and delaying the people trying to leave the studio.
“Yeah, Mick, I’m okay with that.”
We were silent for a while after that as we inched along. Cisco kept glancing at me in the mirror.
“What?” I finally asked.
“Well, I got your daughter. That makes one. And then Lorna. I was wondering who the other two were.”
Before I could answer, the electronic version of the William Tell Overture started to play in my hand. I looked down at my phone. It said PRIVATE CALLER on the screen. I opened it up.
“Haller.”
“Please hold for Walter Elliot,” Mrs. Albrecht said.
Not much time went by before I heard the familiar voice.
“Mr. Haller?”
“I’m here. What can I do for you?”
I felt the stirring of anxiety in my gut. He had decided.
“Have you noticed something about my case, Mr. Haller?”
The question caught me off guard.
“How do you mean?”
“One lawyer. I have one lawyer, Mr. Haller. You see, I not only must win this case in court but I must also win it in the court of public opinion.”
“I see,” I said, though I didn’t quite understand the point.
“In the last ten years I’ve picked a lot of winners. I’m talking about films in which I invested my money. I picked winners because I believe I have an accurate sense of public opinion and taste. I know what people like because I know what they are thinking.”
“I’m sure you do, sir.”
“And I think that the public believes that the more guilty you are, the more lawyers you need.”
He wasn’t wrong about that.
“So the first thing I said to Mr. Vincent when I hired him was, no dream team, just you. We had a second lawyer on board early on but that was temporary. She served a purpose and was gone. One lawyer, Mr. Haller. That’s how I want it. The best one lawyer I can get.”
“I under-”
“I’ve decided, Mr. Haller. You impressed me when you were in here. I would like to engage your services for trial. You will be my one lawyer.”
I had to calm my voice before answering.
“I’m glad to hear that. Call me Mickey.”
“And you can call me Walter. But I insist on one condition before we agree to this arrangement.”
“What is that?”
“No delay. We go to trial on schedule. I want to hear you say it.”
I hesitated. I wanted a delay. But I wanted the case more.
“We won’t delay,” I said. “We’ll be ready to go next Thursday.”
“Then, welcome aboard. What do we do next?”
“Well, I’m still on the lot. I could turn around and come back.”
“I’m afraid I have meetings until seven and then a screening of our film for the awards season.”
I thought that his trial and freedom would have trumped his meetings and movies but I let it go. I would educate Walter Elliot and bring him to reality the next time I saw him.
“Okay, then, for now you give me a fax number and I’ll have my assistant send over a contract. It will have the same fee structure as you had with Jerry Vincent.”
There was silence and I waited. If he was going to try to knock down the fee, this is when he would do it. But instead he repeated a fax number I could hear Mrs. Albrecht giving him. I wrote it down on the outside of one of the files.
“What’s tomorrow look like, Walter?”
“Tomorrow?”
“Yes, if not tonight, then tomorrow. We need to get started. You don’t want a delay; I want to be even more prepared than I am now. We need to talk and go over things. There are a few gaps in the defense case and I think you can help me fill them in. I could come back to the studio or meet you anywhere else in the afternoon.”
I heard muffled voices as he conferred with Mrs. Albrecht.
“I have a four o’clock open,” he finally said. “Here at the bungalow.”
“Okay, I’ll be there. And cancel whatever you have at five. We’re going to need at least a couple hours to start.”
Elliot agreed to the two hours and we were about to end the conversation, when I thought of something else.
“Walter, I want to see the crime scene. Can I get into the house in Malibu tomorrow sometime before we meet?”
Again there was a pause.
“When?”
“You tell me what will work.”
Again he covered the phone and I heard his muffled conversation with Mrs. Albrecht. Then he came back on the line with me.
“How about eleven? I’ll have someone meet you there to let you in.”
“That’ll work. See you tomorrow, Walter.”
I closed the phone and looked at Cisco in the mirror.
“We got him.”
Cisco hit the Lincoln’s horn in celebration. It was a long blast that made the driver in front of us hold up a fist and send us back the finger. Out in the street the striking writers took the blast as a sign of support from inside the hated studio. I heard a loud cheer go up from the masses.
Fifteen
Bosch arrived early the next morning. He was alone. His peace offering was the extra cup of coffee he carried and handed over to me. I don’t drink coffee anymore – trying to avoid any addiction in my life – but I took it from him anyway, thinking that maybe the smell of caffeine would get me going. It was only 7:45 but I had been in Jerry Vincent’s office for more than two hours already.
I led Bosch back into the file room. He looked more tired than I felt and I was pretty sure he was in the same suit he’d been wearing when I saw him the day before.
“Long night?” I asked.
“Oh, yeah.”
“Chasing leads or chasing tail?”
It was a question I had once heard one detective ask another in a courthouse hallway. I guess it was a question reserved for brothers of the badge because it didn’t go over so well with Bosch. He made some sort of guttural noise and didn’t answer.
In the file room I told him to have a seat at the small table. There was a yellow legal tablet on the table, but no files. I took the other seat and put my coffee down.
“So,” I said, picking up the legal pad.
“So,” Bosch said when I offered nothing else.
“So I met with Judge Holder in chambers yesterday and worked out a plan by which we can give you what you need from the files without actually giving you the files.”
Bosch shook his head.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“You should’ve told me this yesterday at Parker Center,” he said. “I wouldn’t have wasted my time.”
“I thought you’d appreciate this.”
“It’s not going to work.”
“How do you know that? How can you be sure?”
“How many homicides have you investigated, Haller? And how many have you cleared?”
“All right, point taken. You’re the homicide guy. But I am certainly capable of reviewing files and discerning what constituted a legitimate threat to Jerry Vincent. Possibly because of my experience as a criminal defense attorney I could even perceive a threat that you would miss in your capacity as a detective.”
“So you say.”
“Yeah, I say.”
“Look, all I’m pointing out here is the obvious. I’m the detective. I’m the one who should look through the files because I know what I am looking for. No offense, but you are an amateur at this. So I’m in a position here where I have to take what an amateur is giving me and trust that I’m getting everything there is to get from the files. It doesn’t work that way. I don’t trust the evidence unless I find it myself.”