The Lincoln lawyer - By Michael Connelly Page 0,72
you to tell me about that night at The Cobra Room.”
He shrugged.
“The girl was there and I talked. She tol’ me to follow her home.”
He shrugged again.
“I went to her place, man, but I didn’t kill her like that.”
“Go back to the club. You told me that you had to impress the girl, that you had to show her the money and you spent more than you wanted to. You remember?”
“Is right.”
“You said there was another guy trying to get with her. You remember that?”
“Si, he was there talking. She went to him but she came back to me.”
“You had to pay her more, right?”
“Like that.”
“Okay, do you remember that guy? If you saw a picture of him, would you remember him?”
“The guy who talked big? I think I ’member.”
“Okay.”
I opened my briefcase and took out the spread of mug shots. There were six photos and they included the booking photo of Louis Ross Roulet and five other men whose mug shots I had culled out of my archive boxes. I stood up and one by one started holding them up on the glass. I thought that by spreading my fingers I would be able to hold all six against the glass. Menendez stood up to look closely at the photos.
Almost immediately a voice boomed from an overhead speaker.
“Step back from the glass. Both of you step back from the glass and remain seated or the interview will be terminated.”
I shook my head and cursed. I gathered the photos together and sat down. Menendez sat back down as well.
“Guard!” I said loudly.
I looked at Menendez and waited. The guard didn’t enter the room.
“Guard!” I called again, louder.
Finally, the door opened and the guard stepped into my side of the interview room.
“You done?”
“No. I need him to look at these photos.”
I held up the stack.
“Show him through the glass. He’s not allowed to receive anything from you.”
“But I’m going to take them right back.”
“Doesn’t matter. You can’t give him anything.”
“But if you don’t let him come to the glass, how is he going to see them?”
“It’s not my problem.”
I waved in surrender.
“All right, okay. Then can you stay here for a minute?”
“What for?”
“I want you to watch this. I’m going to show him the photos and if he makes an ID, I want you to witness it.”
“Don’t drag me into your bullshit.”
He walked to the door and left.
“Goddamn it,” I said.
I looked at Menendez.
“All right, Jesus, I’m going to show you, anyway. See if you recognize any of them from where you are sitting.”
One by one I held the photos up about a foot from the glass. Menendez leaned forward. As I showed each of the first five he looked, thought about it and then shook his head no. But on the sixth photo I saw his eyes flare. It seemed as though there was some life in them after all.
“That one,” he said. “Is him.”
I turned the photo toward me to be sure. It was Roulet.
“I ’member,” Menendez said. “He’s the one.”
“And you’re sure?”
Menendez nodded.
“What makes you so sure?”
“Because I know. In here I think on that night all of my time.”
I nodded.
“Who is the man?” he asked.
“I can’t tell you right now. Just know that I am trying to get you out of here.”
“What do I do?”
“What you have been doing. Sit tight, be careful and stay safe.”
“Safe?”
“I know. But as soon as I have something, you will know about it. I’m trying to get you out of here, Jesus, but it might take a little while.”
“You were the one who tol’ me to come here.”
“At the time I didn’t think there was a choice.”
“How come you never ask me, did you murder this girl? You my lawyer, man. You din’t care. You din’t listen.”
I stood up and loudly called for the guard. Then I answered his question.
“To legally defend you I didn’t need to know the answer to that question. If I asked my clients if they were guilty of the crimes they were charged with, very few would tell me the truth. And if they did, I might not be able to defend them to the best of my ability.”
The guard opened the door and looked in at me.
“I’m ready to go,” I said.
I checked my watch and figured that if I was lucky in traffic I might be able to catch the five o’clock shuttle back to Burbank. The six o’clock at the latest. I dropped the photos into my briefcase and closed it. I looked