The Lincoln Lawyer - Michael Connelly [8]
“It won’t be a problem for me,” I said without hesitation. “She’s the one who’ll have the problem.”
The defendant has the right to his choice of counsel. If there is a conflict of interest between the defense lawyer and the prosecutor, then it is the prosecutor who must bow out. I knew Maggie would hold me personally responsible for her losing the reins on what might be a big case but I couldn’t help that. It had happened before. In my laptop I still had a motion to disqualify from the last case in which we had crossed paths. If necessary, I would just have to change the name of the defendant and print it out. I’d be good to go and she’d be as good as gone.
The two motorcycles had now moved in front of us. I turned and looked out the back window. There were three more Harleys behind us.
“You know what that means, though,” I said.
“No, what?”
“She’ll go for no bail. She always does with crimes against women.”
“Shit, can she get it? I’m looking at a nice chunk of change on this, man.”
“I don’t know. You said the guy’s got family and C. C. Dobbs. I can make something out of that. We’ll see.”
“Shit.”
Valenzuela was seeing his major payday disappear.
“I’ll see you there, Val.”
I closed the phone and looked over the seat at Earl.
“How long have we had the escort?” I asked.
“Just came up on us,” Earl said. “You want me to do something?”
“Let’s see what they—”
I didn’t have to wait until the end of my sentence. One of the riders from the rear came up alongside the Lincoln and signaled us toward the upcoming exit for the Vasquez Rocks County Park. I recognized him as Teddy Vogel, a former client and the highest-ranked Road Saint not incarcerated. He might have been the largest Saint as well. He went at least 350 pounds and he gave the impression of a fat kid riding his little brother’s bike.
“Pull off, Earl,” I said. “Let’s see what he’s got.”
We pulled into the parking lot next to the jagged rock formation named after an outlaw who had hid in them a century before. I saw two people sitting and having a picnic on the edge of one of the highest ledges. I didn’t think I would feel comfortable eating a sandwich in such a dangerous spot and position.
I lowered my window as Teddy Vogel approached on foot. The other four Saints had killed their engines but remained on their bikes. Vogel leaned down to the window and put one of his giant forearms on the sill. I could feel the car tilt down a few inches.
“Counselor, how’s it hanging?” he said.
“Just fine, Ted,” I said, not wanting to call him by his obvious gang sobriquet of Teddy Bear. “What’s up with you?”
“What happened to the ponytail?”
“Some people objected to it, so I cut it off.”
“A jury, huh? Must’ve been a collection of stiffs from up this way.”
“What’s up, Ted?”
“I got a call from Hard Case over there in the Lancaster pen. He said I might catch you heading south. Said you were stalling his case till you got some green. That right, Counselor?”
It was said as routine conversation. No threat in his voice or words. And I didn’t feel threatened. Two years ago I got an abduction and aggravated assault case against Vogel knocked down to a disturbing the peace. He ran a Saints-owned strip club on Sepulveda in Van Nuys. His arrest came after he learned that one of his most productive dancers had quit and crossed the street to work at a competing club. Vogel had crossed the street after her, grabbed her off the stage and carried her back to his club. She was naked. A passing motorist called the police. Knocking the case down was one of my better plays and Vogel knew this. He had a soft spot for me.
“He’s pretty much got it right,” I said. “I work for a living. If he wants me to work for him he’s gotta pay me.”
“We gave you five grand in December,” Vogel said.
“That’s long gone, Ted. More than half went to the expert who is going to blow the case up. The rest went to me and I already worked off those hours. If I’m going to take it to trial, then I need to refill the tank.”
“You want another five?”
“No, I need ten and I told Hard Case