The Fifth Witness - Michael Connelly [153]
Cisco calmly bent down, pulled Driscoll up and walked him right back to the couch. I stepped over to the door and closed it, just in case the wall banging brought out a curious neighbor. I then came back to the living room.
“You can’t run from this, Donald,” I said. “You tell us what you know and what you did and we can help you.”
“Help me get killed, you assholes. And I think you fucking broke my shoulder.”
He started working his arm and shoulder like he was warming up to pitch nine innings. He grimaced.
“How’s it feel?” I said.
“I told you, it feels broken. I felt something give.”
“You wouldn’t be able to move it,” Cisco said.
Cisco’s voice had a threatening tone to it, as if there would be further consequences if the shoulder actually was broken. When I spoke, my voice was calm and welcoming.
“What do you know, Donald? What would make you a danger to Opparizio?”
“I don’t know anything and I didn’t say that name—you did.”
“You have to understand something. You have been served with a valid subpoena. You show up and you testify or you stay in jail until you do. But think about this, Donald. If you testify about what you know about ALOFT and what you did, then you’re protected. Nobody will make a move against you because it would be obvious where it came from. It’s your only move here.”
He shook his head.
“Yeah, obvious if they did it now. What about in ten years when nobody remembers your stupid-ass trial and they can still hide behind all the money in the world?”
I didn’t really have an answer to that one.
“Look, I’ve got a client on trial for what amounts to her life. She’s got a little boy and they’re trying to take everything away from her. I’m not going to—”
“Fuck off, man, she probably did it. We’re talking about two different things here. I can’t help her. I have no evidence. I’ve got nothing. Just leave me the hell alone, would you? What about my life? I want to have a life, too.”
I looked at him and sadly shook my head.
“I can’t leave you alone. I’m putting you on the stand tomorrow. You can refuse to answer questions. You can even take the Fifth if you’ve committed crimes. But you’ll be there and they’ll be there. They’ll know they’ve got a continuing problem with you. Your best bet is to spill it all, Donald. Put it out there and be protected. Five years, ten years, they’ll never be able to do a damn thing to you because there will be a record.”
Driscoll was staring at an ashtray full of coins on the coffee table, but he was seeing something else.
“Maybe I should get an attorney,” he said.
I gave Cisco a look. This was exactly what I didn’t want to have happen. A witness with his own attorney was never a good thing.
“Sure, fine, if you’ve got a lawyer, bring him. But a lawyer is not going to stop the forward progress of this trial. That subpoena is bulletproof, Donald. A lawyer will charge you a grand to try to knock it down but it won’t work. It will only make the judge mad at you for making him take time out of the trial.”
My phone started to buzz in my pocket. It was early enough on a Sunday to be unusual. I pulled it out to check the display. Maggie McPherson.
“Think about what I said, Donald. I have to take this but I’ll be quick.”
As I answered I walked into the kitchen.
“Maggie? Everything all right?”
“Sure, why not?”
“I don’t know. It’s kind of early for a Sunday. Is Hayley still asleep?”
Sunday was always my daughter’s catch-up day. She could easily sleep past noon if not roused.
“Of course. I’m just calling because we didn’t hear from you yesterday so I guess that makes today movie day.”
“Uh…”
I vaguely remembered promising a movie outing when I had been in Maggie’s office Friday afternoon.
“You’re busy.”
The Tone had entered her voice. The judgmental you-are-full-of-shit Tone.
“I am at the moment. I’m down in Long Beach talking to a wit.”
“So, no movie? Is