The Lincoln lawyer - By Michael Connelly Page 0,89

floor. He expired facedown on the floor. The intruder ransacked the office and we are currently at a loss to determine what he was looking for or what he might have taken.”

“Who found him?” I asked.

“A neighbor who found his dog running loose. The intruder must have let the dog out before or after the killing. The neighbor found it wandering around, recognized it and brought it back. She found the front door open, came in and found the body. It didn’t look like much of a watchdog, you ask me. It’s one of those little hair balls.”

“A shih tzu,” I said.

I had seen the dog before and heard Levin talk about it, but I couldn’t remember its name. It was something like Rex or Bronco—a name that belied the dog’s small stature.

Sobel referred to a notebook she was holding before continuing the questioning.

“We haven’t found anything that can lead us to next of kin,” she said. “Do you know if he had any family?”

“I think his mother lives back east. He was born in Detroit. Maybe she’s there. I don’t think they had much of a relationship.”

She nodded.

“We have found his time and hours calendar. He’s got your name on almost every day for the last month. Was he working on a specific case for you?”

I nodded.

“A couple different cases. One mostly.”

“Do you care to tell us about it?” she asked.

“I have a case about to go to trial. Next month. It’s an attempted rape and murder. He was running down the evidence and helping me to get ready.”

“You mean helping you try to backdoor the investigation, huh?” Lankford said.

I realized then that Lankford’s politeness on the phone was merely sweet talk to get me to come to the house. He would be different now. He even seemed to be chewing his gum more aggressively than when he had first entered the room.

“Whatever you want to call it, Detective. Everybody is entitled to a defense.”

“Yeah, sure, and they’re all innocent, only it’s their parents’ fault for taking them off the tit too soon,” Lankford said. “Whatever. This guy Levin was a cop before, right?”

He was back to mispronouncing the name.

“Yes, he was LAPD. He was a detective on a Crimes Against Persons squad but he retired after twelve years on the force. I think it was twelve years. You’ll have to check. And it’s Levin.”

“Right, as in heaven. I guess he couldn’t hack working for the good guys, huh?”

“Depends on how you look at it, I guess.”

“Can we get back to your case?” Sobel asked. “What is the name of the defendant?”

“Louis Ross Roulet. The trial’s in Van Nuys Superior before Judge Fullbright.”

“Is he in custody?”

“No, he’s out on a bond.”

“Any animosity between Roulet and Mr. Levin?”

“Not that I know of.”

I had decided. I was going to deal with Roulet in the way I knew how. I was sticking with the plan I had concocted—with the help of Raul Levin. Drop a depth charge into the case and make sure to get clear. I felt I owed it to my friend Mish. He would have wanted it this way. I wouldn’t farm it out. I would handle it personally.

“Could this have been a gay thing?” Lankford asked.

“What? Why do you say that?”

“Prissy dog and then all around the house, he’s only got pictures of guys and the dog. Everywhere. On the walls, next to the bed, on the piano.”

“Look closely, Detective. It is probably one guy. His partner died a few years ago. I don’t think he’s been with anybody since then.”

“Died of AIDS, I bet.”

I didn’t confirm that for him. I just waited. On the one hand, I was annoyed with Lankford’s manner. On the other hand, I figured that his torch-the-ground method of investigation would preclude him from being able to tag Roulet with this. That was fine with me. I only needed to stall him for five or six weeks and then I wouldn’t care if they put it together or not. I’d be finished with my own play by then.

“Did this guy go out patrolling the gay joints?” Lankford asked.

I shrugged.

“I have no idea. But if it was a gay murder, why was his office ransacked and not the rest of the house?”

Lankford nodded. He seemed to be momentarily taken aback by the logic of my question. But then he hit me with a surprise punch.

“So where were you this morning, Counselor?”

“What?”

“It’s just routine. The scene indicates the victim knew his killer. He let the