The Lincoln lawyer - By Michael Connelly Page 0,152
ways and saw Sobel down by the elevators. She was on her cell phone and it seemed as though she was waiting for an elevator but it didn’t look like the down button was lit.
“Michael, can you join us for lunch?” Dobbs said upon seeing me. “We are going to celebrate!”
I noticed that he was now calling me by my given name. Victory made everybody friendly.
“Uh . . . ,” I said, still looking down at Sobel. “I don’t think I can make it.”
“Why not? You obviously don’t have court in the afternoon.”
I finally looked at Dobbs. I felt like saying that I couldn’t have lunch because I never wanted to see him or Mary Windsor or Louis Roulet again.
“I think I’m going to stick around and talk to the jurors when they come back at one.”
“Why?” Roulet asked.
“Because it will help me to know what they were thinking and where we stood.”
Dobbs gave me a clap on the upper arm.
“Always learning, always getting better for the next one. I don’t blame you.”
He looked delighted that I would not be joining them. And for good reason. He probably wanted me out of the way now so he could work on repairing his relationship with Mary Windsor. He wanted that franchise account just to himself again.
I heard the muted bong of the elevator and looked back down the hall. Sobel was standing in front of the opening elevator. She was leaving.
But then Lankford, Kurlen and Booker stepped out of the elevator and joined Sobel. They turned and started walking toward us.
“Then we’ll leave you to it,” Dobbs said, his back to the approaching detectives. “We have a reservation at Orso and I’m afraid we’re already going to be late getting back over the hill.”
“Okay,” I said, still looking down the hall.
Dobbs, Windsor and Roulet turned to walk away just as the four detectives got to us.
“Louis Roulet,” Kurlen announced. “You are under arrest. Turn around, please, and place your hands behind your back.”
“No!” Mary Windsor shrieked. “You can’t —”
“What is this?” Dobbs cried out.
Kurlen didn’t answer or wait for Roulet to comply. He stepped forward and roughly turned Roulet around. As he made the forced turn, Roulet’s eyes came to mine.
“What’s going on, Mick?” he said in a calm voice. “This shouldn’t be happening.”
Mary Windsor moved toward her son.
“Take your hands off of my son!”
She grabbed Kurlen from behind but Booker and Lankford quickly moved in and detached her, handling her gently but strongly.
“Ma’am, step back,” Booker commanded. “Or I will put you in jail.”
Kurlen started giving Roulet the Miranda warning. Windsor stayed back but was not silent.
“How dare you? You cannot do this!”
Her body moved in place and she looked as though unseen hands were keeping her from charging at Kurlen again.
“Mother,” Roulet said in a tone that carried more weight and control than any of the detectives.
Windsor’s body relented. She gave up. But Dobbs didn’t.
“You’re arresting him for what?” he demanded.
“Suspicion of murder,” Kurlen said. “The murder of Martha Renteria.”
“That’s impossible!” Dobbs cried. “Everything that witness Corliss said in there was proven to be a lie. Are you crazy? The judge dismissed the case because of his lies.”
Kurlen broke from his recital of Roulet’s rights and looked at Dobbs.
“If it was all a lie, how’d you know he was talking about Martha Renteria?”
Dobbs realized his mistake and took a step back from the gathering. Kurlen smiled.
“Yeah, I thought so,” he said.
He grabbed Roulet by an elbow and turned him back around.
“Let’s go,” he said.
“Mick?” Roulet said.
“Detective Kurlen,” I said. “Can I talk to my client for a moment?”
Kurlen looked at me, seemed to measure something in me and then nodded.
“One minute. Tell him to behave himself and it will all go a lot easier for him.”
He shoved Roulet toward me. I took him by one arm and walked him a few paces away from the others so we would have privacy if we kept our voices down. I stepped close to him and began in a whisper.
“This is it, Louis. This is good-bye. I got you off. Now you’re on your own. Get yourself a new lawyer.”
The shock showed in his eyes. Then his face clouded over with a tightly focused anger. It was pure rage and I realized it was the same rage Regina Campo and Martha Renteria must have seen.
“I won’t need a lawyer,” he said to me. “You think they can make a case off of what you somehow fed to that lying snitch in there?