The Lincoln lawyer - By Michael Connelly Page 0,154

of them. We inventoried what he had in the office and eventually compared it with what’s on the computer. He was missing one ticket. One hard copy. We didn’t know if his killer took it that day or if he had just missed pulling it. So we went and pulled a copy ourselves. It was issued two years ago on the night of April eighth. It was a citation for parking in front of a hydrant in the sixty-seven-hundred block of Blythe Street in Panorama City.”

It all came together for me, like the last bit of sand dropping through the middle of an hourglass. Raul Levin really had found Jesus Menendez’s salvation.

“Martha Renteria was murdered two years ago on April eighth,” I said. “She lived on Blythe in Panorama City.”

“Yes, but we didn’t know that. We didn’t see the connection. You told us that Levin was working separate cases for you. Jesus Menendez and Louis Roulet were separate investigations. Levin had them filed that way, too.”

“It was a discovery issue. He kept the cases separate so I wouldn’t have to turn over anything on Roulet that he came up with on Menendez.”

“One of your lawyer angles. Well, it stopped us from putting it together until that snitch in there mentioned the snake dancer. That connected everything.”

I nodded.

“So whoever killed Raul Levin took the hard copy?”

“We think.”

“Did you check Raul’s phones for a tap? Somehow somebody knew he found the ticket.”

“We did. They were clear. Bugs could have been removed at the time of the murder. Or maybe it was someone else’s phone that was tapped.”

Meaning mine. Meaning it might explain how Roulet knew so many of my moves and was even conveniently waiting for me in my home the night I had come home from seeing Jesus Menendez.

“I will have them checked,” I said. “Does all of this mean I am clear on Raul’s murder?”

“Not necessarily,” Sobel said. “We still want to see what comes back from ballistics. We’re hoping for something today.”

I nodded. I didn’t know how to respond. Sobel lingered, looking like she wanted to tell me or ask me something.

“What?” I said.

“I don’t know. Is there anything you want to tell me?”

“I don’t know. There’s nothing to tell.”

“Really? In the courtroom it seemed like you were trying to tell us a lot.”

I was silent a moment, trying to read between the lines.

“What do you want from me, Detective Sobel?”

“You know what I want. I want Raul Levin’s killer.”

“Well, so do I. But I couldn’t give you Roulet on Levin even if I wanted to. I don’t know how he did it. And that’s off the record.”

“So that still leaves you in the crosshairs.”

She looked down the hall at the elevators, her implication clear. If the ballistics matched, I could still have a problem on Levin. They would use it as leverage. Give up how Roulet did it or go down for it myself. I changed the subject.

“How long do you think before Jesus Menendez gets out?” I asked.

She shrugged.

“Hard to say. Depends on the case they build against Roulet—if they have a case. But I know one thing. They can’t prosecute Roulet as long as another man is in prison for the same crime.”

I turned and walked over to the glass wall. I put my free hand on the railing that ran along the glass. I felt a mixture of elation and dread and that moth still batting around in my chest.

“That’s all I care about,” I said quietly. “Getting him out. That and Raul.”

She came over and stood next to me.

“I don’t know what you are doing,” she said. “But leave the rest for us.”

“I do that and your partner will probably put me in jail for a murder I didn’t commit.”

“You are playing a dangerous game,” she said. “Leave it alone.”

I looked at her and then back down at the plaza.

“Sure,” I said. “I’ll leave it alone now.”

Having heard what she needed to, she made a move to go.

“Good luck,” she said.

I looked at her again.

“Same to you.”

She left then and I stayed. I turned back to the window and looked down into the plaza. I saw Dobbs and Windsor crossing the concrete squares and heading toward the parking garage. Mary Windsor was leaning against her lawyer for support. I doubted they were still headed to lunch at Orso.

FORTY-FIVE

By that night the word had begun to spread. Not the secret details but the public story. The story that I had won the case, gotten a