The Lincoln lawyer - By Michael Connelly Page 0,82
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.