The Lincoln Lawyer: A Novel (25 page)

I walked back and was placing the note under the violator’s windshield wiper when I noticed the SUV was a Range Rover. I put
my hand on the hood and it was cool to the touch. I looked up above the garage to the windows of my house that I could see,
but they were dark. I slapped the folded note under the windshield
wiper and started up the stairs to the front deck and door. I half expected Louis Roulet to be sitting in one of the tall
director chairs, taking in the twinkling view of the city, but he was not there.

Instead, I walked to the corner of the porch and looked out on the city. It was this view that had made me buy the place.
Everything about the house once you went through the door was ordinary and outdated. But the front porch and the view right
above Hollywood Boulevard could launch a million dreams. I had used money from the last franchise case for a down payment.
But once I was in and there wasn’t another franchise, I took the equity out in a second mortgage. The truth was I struggled
every month just to pay the nut. I needed to get out from under it but that view off the front deck paralyzed me. I’d probably
be staring out at the city when they came to take the key and foreclose on the place.

I know the question my house prompts. Even with my struggles to stay afloat with it, how fair is it that when a prosecutor
and defense attorney divorce, the defense attorney gets the house on the hill with a million-dollar view while the prosecutor
with the daughter gets the two-bedroom apartment in the Valley. The answer is that Maggie McPherson could buy a house of her
choosing and I would help her to my maximum ability. But she had refused to move while she waited to be tapped for a promotion
to the downtown office. Buying a house in Sherman Oaks or anywhere else would send the wrong message, one of sedentary contentment.
She was not content to be Maggie McFierce of the Van Nuys Division. She was not content to be passed over by John Smithson
or any of his young guns. She was ambitious and wanted to get downtown, where supposedly the best and brightest prosecuted
the most important crimes. She refused to accept the simple truism that the better you were, the bigger threat you were to
those at the top, especially if they are elected. I knew that Maggie would never be invited downtown. She was too damn good.

Every now and then this realization would seep through and she would lash out in unexpected ways. She would make a cutting
remark at a press conference or she would refuse to cooperate with
a downtown investigation. Or she would drunkenly reveal to a criminal defense attorney and ex-husband something about a case
he shouldn’t be told.

The phone started to ring from inside the house. I moved to the front door and fumbled with my keys to unlock it and get inside
in time. My phone numbers and who has them could form a pyramid chart. The number in the yellow pages everybody has or could
have. Next up the pyramid is my cell phone, which has been disseminated to key colleagues, investigators, bondsmen, clients
and other cogs in the machine. My home phone—the land line—was the top of the pyramid. Very few had the number. No clients
and no other lawyers except for one.

I got in and grabbed the phone off the kitchen wall before it went to message. The caller was that one other lawyer with the
number. Maggie McPherson.

“Did you get my messages?”

“I got the one on my cell. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong. I left one on this number a lot earlier.”

“Oh, I’ve been gone all day. I just got in.”

“Where have you been?”

“Well, I’ve been up to San Francisco and back and I just got in from having dinner with Raul Levin. Is all of that all right
with you?”

“I’m just curious. What was in San Francisco?”

“A client.”

“So what you really mean is you were up to San Quentin and back.”

“You were always too smart for me, Maggie. I can never fool you. Is there a reason for this call?”

“I just wanted to see if you got my apology and I also wanted to find out if you were going to do something with Hayley tomorrow.”

“Yes and yes. But Maggie, no apology is necessary and you should know that. I am sorry for the way I acted before I left.
And if my daughter wants to be with me tomorrow, then I want to be
with her. Tell her we can go down to the pier or to a movie if she wants. Whatever she wants.”

“Well, she actually wants to go to the mall.”

She said it as if she were stepping on glass.

“The mall? The mall is fine. I’ll take her. What’s wrong with the mall? Is there something in particular she wants?”

I suddenly noticed a foreign odor in the house. The smell of smoke. While standing in the middle of the kitchen I checked
the oven and the stove. They were off. I was tethered to the kitchen because the phone wasn’t cordless. I stretched it to
the door and flicked on the light to the dining room. It was empty and its light was cast into the next room, the living room
through which I had passed when I had entered. It looked empty as well.

“They have a place there where you make your own teddy bear and you pick the style and its voice box and you put a little
heart in with the stuffing. It’s all very cute.”

I now wanted to get off the line and explore further into my house.

“Fine. I’ll take her. What time is good?”

“I was thinking about noon. Maybe we could have lunch first.”

“We?”

“Would that bother you?”

“No, Maggie, not at all. How about I come by at noon?”

“Great.”

“See you then.”

I hung the phone up before she could say good-bye. I owned a gun but it was a collector piece that hadn’t been fired in my
lifetime and was stored in a box in my bedroom closet at the rear of the house. So I quietly opened a kitchen drawer and took
out a short but sharp steak knife. I then walked through the living room toward the hallway that led to the rear of the house.
There were three doorways in the hall. They led to my bedroom, a bathroom and another bedroom I had turned into a home office,
the only real office I had.

The desk light was on in the office. It was not visible from the angle I had in the hallway but I could tell it was on. I
had not been
home in two days but I did not remember leaving it on. I approached the open door to the room slowly, aware that this is what
I may have been meant to do. Focus on the light in one room while the intruder is waiting in the darkness of the bedroom or
bathroom.

“Come on back, Mick. It’s just me.”

I knew the voice but it didn’t make me feel at ease. Louis Roulet was waiting in the room. I stepped to the threshold and
stopped. He was sitting in the black leather desk seat. He swiveled it around so that he was facing me and crossed his legs.
His pants rode up on his left leg and I could see the tracking bracelet that Fernando Valenzuela had made him wear. I knew
that if Roulet had come to kill me, at least he would leave a trail. It wasn’t all that comforting, though. I leaned against
the door frame so that I could hold the knife behind my hip without being too obvious about it.

“So this is where you do your great legal work?” Roulet asked.

“Some of it. What are you doing here, Louis?”

“I came to see you. You didn’t return my call and so I wanted to make sure we were still a team, you know?”

“I was out of town. I just got back.”

“What about dinner with Raul? Isn’t that what you said to your caller?”

“He’s a friend. I had dinner on my way in from Burbank Airport. How did you find out where I live, Louis?”

He cleared his throat and smiled.

“I work in real estate, Mick. I can find out where anybody lives. In fact, I used to be a source for the
National Enquirer
. Did you know that? I could tell them where any celebrity lived, no matter what fronts and corporations they hid their purchases
behind. But I gave it up after a while. The money was good but it was so… tawdry. You know what I mean, Mick? Anyway, I stopped.
But I can still find out where anyone lives. I can also find out whether they’ve maxed the mortgage value out and even if
they’re making their payments on time.”

He looked at me with a knowing smile. He was telling me he knew the house was a financial shell, that I had nothing in the
place
and usually ran a month behind on the two mortgages. Fernando Valenzuela probably wouldn’t even accept the place as collateral
on a five-thousand-dollar bond.

“How’d you get in?” I asked.

“Well, that’s the funny thing about this. It turns out I had a key. Back when this place was for sale—what was that, about
eighteen months ago? Anyway, I wanted to see it because I thought I had a client who might be interested because of the view.
So I came and got the key out of the realtor’s combo box. I came in and looked around and knew immediately it wasn’t right
for my client—he wanted something nicer—so I left. And I forgot to put the key back. I have a bad habit of doing that. Isn’t
that strange that all this time later my lawyer would be living in this house? And by the way, I see you haven’t done a thing
with it. You have the view, of course, but you really need to do some updating.”

I knew then that he had been keeping tabs on me since the Menendez case. And that he probably knew I had just been up to San
Quentin visiting him. I thought about the man on the car-rental train.
Bad day?
I had later seen him on the shuttle to Burbank. Had he been following me? Was he working for Roulet? Was he the investigator
Cecil Dobbs had tried to push onto the case? I didn’t know all the answers but I knew that the only reason Roulet would be
in my house waiting for me was because he knew what I knew.

“What do you really want, Louis? Are you trying to scare me?”

“No, no, I’m the one who should be scared. I assume you have a weapon of some sort behind your back there. What is it, a gun?”

I gripped the knife tighter but did not display it.

“What is it you want?” I repeated.

“I want to make you an offer. Not on the house. On your services.”

“You already have my services.”

He swiveled back and forth in the chair before responding. My eyes scanned the desk, checking if anything was missing. I noticed
he had used a little pottery dish my daughter had made for me as an ashtray. It was supposed to be for paperclips.

“I was thinking about our fee arrangement and the difficulties the case presents,” he said. “Frankly, Mick, I think you are
underpaid. So I want to set up a new fee schedule. You will be paid the amount already agreed upon and you will be paid in
full before the trial begins. But I am now going to add a performance bonus. When I am found by a jury of my peers to be not
guilty of this ugly crime, your fee automatically doubles. I will write the check in your Lincoln as we drive away from the
courthouse.”

“That’s nice, Louis, but the California bar refuses to allow defense attorneys to accept bonuses based on results. I couldn’t
accept it. It’s more than generous but I can’t.”

“But the California bar isn’t here, Mick. And we don’t have to treat it as a performance bonus. It’s just part of the fee
schedule. Because, after all, you will be successful in defending me, won’t you?”

He looked intently at me and I read the threat.

“There are no guarantees in the courtroom. Things can always go badly. But I still think it looks good.”

Roulet’s face slowly broke into a smile.

“What can I do to make it look even better?”

I thought about Reggie Campo. Still alive and ready to go to trial. She had no idea whom she would be testifying against.

“Nothing,” I answered. “Just sit tight and wait it out. Don’t get any ideas. Don’t do anything. The case is coming together
and we’ll be all right.”

He didn’t respond. I wanted to get him away from thoughts about the threat Reggie Campo presented.

“There is one thing that has come up, though,” I said.

“Really? What’s that?”

“I don’t have the details. What I know I only know from a source who can’t tell me any more. But it looks like the DA has
a snitch from the jail. You didn’t talk to anybody about the case when you were in there, did you? Remember, I told you not
to talk to anybody.”

“And I didn’t. Whoever they have, he is a liar.”

“Most of them are. I just wanted to be sure. I’ll deal with it if it comes up.”

“Good.”

“One other thing. Have you talked to your mother about testifying about the attack in the empty house? We need it to set up
the defense of you carrying the knife.”

Roulet pursed his lips but didn’t answer.

“I need you to work on her,” I said. “It could be very important to establish that solidly with the jury. Besides that, it
could swing sympathy toward you.”

Roulet nodded. He saw the light.

“Can you please ask her?” I asked.

“I will. But she’ll be tough. She never reported it. She never told anyone but Cecil.”

“We need her to testify and then we can get Cecil to testify and back her up. It’s not as good as a police report but it will
work. We need her, Louis. I think if she testifies, she can convince them. Juries like old ladies.”

“Okay.”

“Did she ever tell you what the guy looked like or how old he was, anything like that?”

He shook his head.

“She couldn’t tell. He wore a ski mask and goggles. He jumped on her as soon as she came in the door. He had been hiding behind
it. It was very quick and very brutal.”

His voice quavered as he described it. I became puzzled.

“I thought you said the attacker was a prospective buyer she was supposed to meet there,” I said. “He was already in the house?”

He brought his eyes up to mine.

“Yes. Somehow he had already gotten in and was waiting for her. It was terrible.”

I nodded. I didn’t want to go further with him at the moment. I wanted him out of my house.

“Listen, thank you for your offer, Louis. Now if you would excuse me, I want to go to bed. It’s been a long day.”

I gestured with my free hand toward the hallway leading to the front of the house. Roulet got up from the desk chair and came
toward me. I backed into the hallway and then into the open door of my bedroom. I kept the knife behind me and ready. But
Roulet passed by without incident.