The Lincoln lawyer - By Michael Connelly Page 0,50
he knew it or not. With this deal I had saved him from that.
“Good morning,” the judge said. “I am glad you could make it today, Mr. Haller.”
“I apologize, Your Honor. I got held up in Judge Flynn’s court in Compton.”
That was all I had to say. The judge knew about Flynn. Everybody did.
“And on St. Patrick’s Day, no less,” she said.
“Yes, Your Honor.”
“I understand we have a disposition in the Tsunami Svengali matter.”
She immediately looked over at her court reporter.
“Michelle, strike that.”
She looked back at the lawyers.
“I understand we have a disposition in the Scales case. Is that correct?”
“That is correct,” I said. “We’re ready to go on that.”
“Good.”
Bernasconi half read, half repeated from memory the legalese needed to take a plea from the defendant. Scales waived his rights and pleaded guilty to the charges. He said nothing other than the word. The judge accepted the disposition agreement and sentenced him accordingly.
“You’re a lucky man, Mr. Scales,” she said when it was over. “I believe Mr. Bernasconi was quite generous with you. I would not have been.”
“I don’t feel so lucky, Judge,” Scales said.
Deputy Frey tapped him on the shoulder from behind. Scales stood up and turned to me.
“I guess this is it,” he said.
“Good luck, Sam,” I said.
He was led off through the steel door and I watched it close behind them. I had not shaken his hand.
THIRTEEN
The Van Nuys Civic Center is a long concrete plaza enclosed by government buildings. Anchoring one end is the Van Nuys Division of the LAPD. Along one side are two courthouses sitting opposite a public library and a city administration building. At the end of the concrete and glass channel is a federal administration building and post office. I waited for Louis Roulet in the plaza on one of the concrete benches near the library. The plaza was largely deserted despite the great weather. Not like the day before, when the place was overrun with cameras and the media and the gadflies, all crowding around Robert Blake and his lawyers as they tried to spin a not-guilty verdict into innocence.
It was a nice, quiet afternoon and I usually liked being outside. Most of my work is done in windowless courtrooms or the backseat of my Town Car, so I take it outside whenever I can. But I wasn’t feeling the breeze or noticing the fresh air this time. I was annoyed because Louis Roulet was late and because what Sam Scales had said to me about being a street-legal con was festering like cancer in my mind. When finally I saw Roulet crossing the plaza toward me I got up to meet him.
“Where’ve you been?” I said abruptly.
“I told you I’d get here as soon as I could. I was in the middle of a showing when you called.”
“Let’s walk.”
I headed toward the federal building because it would give us the longest stretch before we would have to turn around to cross back. I had my meeting with Minton, the new prosecutor assigned to his case, in twenty-five minutes in the older of the two courthouses. I realized that we didn’t look like a lawyer and his client discussing a case. Maybe a lawyer and his realtor discussing a land grab. I was in my Hugo Boss and Roulet was in a tan suit over a green turtleneck. He had on loafers with small silver buckles.
“There won’t be any showings up in Pelican Bay,” I said to him.
“What’s that supposed to mean? Where’s that?”
“It’s a pretty name for a super max prison where they send violent sex offenders. You’re going to fit in there pretty good in your turtleneck and loafers.”
“Look, what’s the matter? What’s this about?”
“It’s about a lawyer who can’t have a client who lies to him. In twenty minutes I’m about to go up to see the guy who wants to send you to Pelican Bay. I need everything I can get my hands on to try to keep you out of there and it doesn’t help when I find out you’re lying to me.”
Roulet stopped and turned to me. He raised his hands out, palms open.
“I haven’t lied to you! I did not do this thing. I don’t know what that woman wants but I —”
“Let me ask you something, Louis. You and Dobbs said you took a year of law at UCLA, right? Did they teach you anything at all about the lawyer-client bond of trust?”
“I don’t know. I don’t remember. I wasn’t there long enough.”