The Lincoln Lawyer - Michael Connelly [123]
“It is hardly a bother, Mr. Haller. We’ve invested a lot of time on this case. The jury, the prosecution, all of us. I am hoping that it is not going to be for naught. I don’t want to do this again. My calendar is already overflowing.”
“Excuse me, Judge Fullbright,” Minton said. “Could I just ask what—”
“No, you may not,” she said, cutting him off. “What we are talking about does not concern the trial other than the timing of it. If Mr. Haller is assuring me that we don’t have a problem, then I will take him at his word. You need no further explanation than that.”
She looked pointedly at me.
“Do I have your word on this, Mr. Haller?”
I hesitated before nodding. What she was telling me was that there would be hell to pay if I broke my word and the Glendale investigation caused a disruption or mistrial in the Roulet case.
“You’ve got my word,” I said.
She immediately stood up and turned toward the hat rack in the corner. Her black robe hung there on a hanger.
“Okay, then, gentlemen, let’s get to it. We’ve got a jury waiting.”
Minton and I left the chambers and entered the courtroom through the clerk’s station. Roulet was seated in the defendant’s chair and waiting.
“What the hell was that all about?” Minton whispered to me.
He was playing dumb. He had to have heard the same rumors my ex-wife had picked up in the halls of the DA’s office.
“Nothing, Ted. Just some bullshit involving another case of mine. You going to wrap it up today?”
“Depends on you. The longer you take, the longer I take cleaning up the bullshit you sling.”
“Bullshit, huh? You’re bleeding to death and don’t even know it.”
He smiled confidently at me.
“I don’t think so.”
“Call it death by a thousand razor blades, Ted. One doesn’t do it. They all do it. Welcome to felony practice.”
I separated from him and went to the defense table. As soon as I sat down, Roulet was in my ear.
“What was that about with the judge?” he whispered.
“Nothing. She was just warning me about how I handle the victim on cross.”
“Who, the woman? She actually called her a victim?”
“Louis, first of all, keep your voice down. And second, she is the victim in this thing. You may have that rare ability to convince yourself of almost anything, but we still—no, make that I—still need to convince the jury.”
He took the rebuke like I was blowing bubbles in his face and moved on.
“Well, what did she say?”
“She said she isn’t going to allow me a lot of freedom in cross-examination. She reminded me that Regina Campo is a victim.”
“I’m counting on you to rip her to shreds, to borrow a quote from you on the day we met.”
“Yeah, well, things are a lot different than on the day we met, aren’t they? And your little scheme with my gun is about to blow up in my face. And I’m telling you right now, I’m not going down for it. If I have to drive people to the airport the rest of my life, I will do that and do it gladly if it’s my only way out from this. You understand, Louis?”
“I understand, Mick,” he said glibly. “I’m sure you’ll figure something out. You’re a smart man.”
I turned and looked at him. Luckily, I didn’t have to say anything further. The bailiff called the court to order and Judge Fullbright took the bench.
Minton’s first witness of the day was LAPD Detective Martin Booker. He was a solid witness for the prosecution. A rock. His answers were clear and concise and given without hesitation. Booker introduced the key piece of evidence, the knife with my client’s initials on it, and under Minton’s questioning he took the jury through his entire investigation of the attack on Regina Campo.
He testified that on the night of March 6 he had been working night duty out of Valley Bureau in Van Nuys. He was called to Regina Campo’s apartment by the West Valley Division watch commander, who believed, after being briefed by his patrol officers, that the attack on Campo merited immediate attention from an investigator. Booker explained that the six detective