The Lincoln lawyer - By Michael Connelly Page 0,87
system the CIA and FBI might be able to learn something from. Vogel said he’d handle it. Then he said the ten grand he gave me the month before on the side of the road near Vasquez Rocks was a worthy investment.
“I appreciate that, Ted,” I said. “Keep me in mind next time you need an attorney.”
“Will do, Counselor.”
He clicked off and I clicked off. I then grabbed my first baseman’s glove out of the hallway closet and headed out the front door.
Having given Earl the day off with pay, I drove myself toward downtown and Dodger Stadium. Traffic was light until I got close. The home opener is always a sell-out, even though it is a day game on a weekday. The start of baseball season is a rite of spring that draws downtown workers by the thousands. It’s the only sporting event in laid-back L.A. where you see men all in stiff white shirts and ties. They’re all playing hooky. There is nothing like the start of a season, before all the one-run losses, pitching breakdowns and missed opportunities. Before reality sets in.
I was the first one to the seats. We were three rows from the field in seats added to the stadium during the off-season. Levin must have busted a nut buying the tickets from one of the local brokers. At least it was probably deductible as a business entertainment expense.
The plan was for Levin to get there early as well. He had called the night before and said he wanted some private time with me. Besides watching batting practice and checking out all the improvements the new owner had made to the stadium, we would discuss my visit with Gloria Dayton and Raul would give me the latest update on his various investigations relating to Louis Roulet.
But Levin never made it for BP. The other four lawyers showed up—three of them in ties, having come from court—and we missed our chance to talk privately.
I knew the other four from some of the boat cases we had tried together. In fact, the tradition of defense pros taking in Dodgers games together started with the boat cases. Under a wide-ranging mandate to stop drug flow to the United States, the U.S. Coast Guard had taken to stopping suspect vessels anywhere on the oceans. When they struck gold—or, that is, cocaine—they seized the vessels and crews. Many of the prosecutions were funneled to the U.S. District Court in Los Angeles. This resulted in prosecutions of sometimes twelve or more defendants at a time. Every defendant got his own lawyer, most of them appointed by the court and paid by Uncle Sugar. The cases were lucrative and steady and we had fun. Somebody had the idea of having case meetings at Dodger Stadium. One time we all pitched in and bought a private suite for a Cubs game. We actually did talk about the case for a few minutes during the seventh-inning stretch.
The pre-game ceremonies started and there was no sign of Levin. Hundreds of doves were released from baskets on the field and they formed up, circled the stadium to loud cheering and then flew up and away. Shortly after, a B-2 stealth bomber buzzed the stadium to even louder applause. That was L.A. Something for everyone and a little irony to boot.
The game started and still no Levin. I turned my cell phone on and tried to call him, even though it was hard to hear. The crowd was loud and boisterous, hopeful of a season that would not end in disappointment again. The call went to a message.
“Mish, where you at, man? We’re at the game and the seats are fantastic, but we got one empty one. We’re waiting on you.”
I closed the phone, looked at the others and shrugged.
“I don’t know,” I said. “He didn’t answer his cell.”
I left my phone on and put it back on my belt.
Before the first inning was over I was regretting what I had said to Lorna about not caring if the Giants drilled us 20-zip. They built a 5-0 lead before the Dodgers even got their first bats of the season and the crowd grew frustrated early. I heard people complaining about the prices, the renovation and the overcommercialization of the stadium. One of the lawyers, Roger Mills, surveyed the surfaces of the stadium and remarked that the place was more crowded with corporate logos than a NASCAR race car.