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  “He’s connected in the community. And has never been arrested.”

  I studied her reaction, not having had the time to make sure Roulet’s denial of ever being previously arrested was the truth. It’s always amazing how many clients lie about previous engagements with the machine, when it is a lie that has no hope of going the distance.

  But Maggie gave no indication that she knew otherwise. Maybe it was true. Maybe I had an honest-to-goodness first-time offender for a client.

  “It doesn’t matter whether he’s done anything before,” Maggie said. “What matters is what he did last night.”

  She opened the file and quickly checked through the photos until she saw the one she liked and snatched it out.

  “Here’s what your pillar of the community did last night. So I don’t really care what he did before. I’m just going to make sure he doesn’t get out to do this again.”

  The photo was an 8 X 10 close-up of a woman’s face. The swelling around the right eye was so extensive that the eye was completely and tightly closed. The nose was broken and pushed off center. Blood-soaked gauze protruded from each nostril. There was a deep gash over the right eyebrow that had been closed with nine butterfly stitches. The lower lip was cut and had a marble-size swelling as well. The worst thing about the photo was the eye that was undamaged. The woman looked at the camera with fear, pain and humiliation undeniably expressed in that one tearful eye.

  “If he did it,” I said, because that is what I would be expected to say.

  “Right,” Maggie said. “Sure, if he did it. He was only arrested in her home with her blood on him, but you’re right, that’s a valid question.”

  “I like it when you’re sarcastic. Do you have the arrest report there? I’d like to get a copy of it.”

  “You can get it from whoever takes the case over from me. No favors, Haller. Not this time.”

  I waited, expecting more banter, more indignation, maybe another shot across the bow, but that was all she said. I decided that getting more out of her on the case was a lost cause. I changed the subject.

  “So,” I said. “How is she?”

  “She’s scared shitless and hurting like hell. How else would she be?”

  She looked up at me and I saw the immediate recognition and then judgment in her eyes.

  “You weren’t even asking about the victim, were you?”

  I didn’t answer. I didn’t want to lie to her.

  “Your daughter is doing fine,” she said perfunctorily. “She likes the things you send her but she would rather you show up a little more often.”

  That wasn’t a shot across the bow. That was a direct hit and it was deserved. It seemed as though I was always chasing cases, even on weekends. Deep down inside I knew I needed to start chasing my daughter around the backyard more often. The time to do it was going by.

  “I will,” I said. “Starting right now. What about this weekend?”

  “Fine. You want me to tell her tonight?”

  “Uh, maybe wait until tomorrow so I know for sure.”

  She gave me one of those knowing nods. We had been through this before.

  “Great. Let me know tomorrow.”

  This time I didn’t enjoy the sarcasm.

  “What does she need?” I asked, trying to stumble back to just being even.

  “I just told you what she needs. More of you in her life.”

  “Okay, I promise. I will do that.”

  She didn’t respond.

  “I really mean that, Maggie. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

  She looked up at me and was ready to hit me with both barrels. She had done it before, saying I was all talk and no action when it came to fatherhood. But I was saved by the start of the court session. The judge came out of chambers and bounded up the steps to the bench. The bailiff called the courtroom to order. Without another word to Maggie I left the prosecution table and went back to one of the seats along the bar.

  The judge asked his clerk if there was any business to be discussed before the custodies were brought out. There was none, so the judge ordered the first group out. As with the courtroom in Lancaster, there was a large holding area for in-custody defendants. I got up and moved to the opening in the glass. When I saw Roulet come through the door I signaled him over.

  “You’re going first,” I told him. “I asked the judge to take you out of order as a favor. I want to try to get you out of here.”

  This was not the truth. I hadn’t asked the judge anything, and even if I had, the judge would do no such thing for me as a favor. Roulet was going first because of the media presence in the courtroom. It was a general practice to deal with the media cases first. This was a courtesy to the cameramen who supposedly had other assignments to get to. But it also made for less tension in the courtroom when lawyers, defendants and even the judge could operate without a television camera on them.

  “Why’s that camera here?” Roulet asked in a panicked whisper. “Is that for me?”

  “Yes, it’s for you. Somebody tipped him to the case. If you don’t want to be filmed, try to use me as a shield.”

  Roulet shifted his position so I was blocking the view of him from the camera across the courtroom. This lowered the chances that the cameraman would be able to sell the story and film to a local news program. That was good. It also meant that if he was able to sell the story, I would be the focal point of the images that went with it. This was also good.

  The Roulet case was called, his name mispronounced by the clerk, and Maggie announced her presence for the prosecution and then I announced mine. Maggie had upped the charges, as was her usual MO as Maggie McFierce. Roulet now faced attempted murder along with the attempted rape count. It would make it easier for her to argue for a no-bail hold.

  The judge informed Roulet of his constitutional rights and set an arraignment date for March 21. Speaking for Roulet, I asked to address the no-bail hold. This set off a spirited back-and-forth between Maggie and me, all of which was refereed by the judge, who knew we were formerly married because he had attended our wedding. While Maggie listed the atrocities committed upon the victim, I in turn listed Roulet’s ties to the community and charitable efforts and pointed to C. C. Dobbs in the gallery and offered to put him on the stand to further discuss Roulet’s good standing. Dobbs was my ace in the hole. His stature in the legal community would supersede Roulet’s standing and certainly be influential with the judge, who held his position on the bench at the behest of the voters—and campaign contributors.

  “The bottom line, Judge, is that the state cannot make a case for this man being a flight risk or a danger to the community,” I said in closing. “Mr. Roulet is anchored in this community and intends to do nothing other than vigorously attack the false charges that have been leveled against him.”

  I used the word attack purposely in case the statement got on the air and happened to be watched by the woman who had leveled the charges.

  “Your Honor,” Maggie responded, “all grandstanding aside, what should not be forgotten is that the victim in this case was brutally —”

  “Ms. McPherson,” the judge interrupted. “I think we have gone back and forth on this enough. I am aware of the victim’s injuries as well as Mr. Roulet’s standing. I also have a busy calendar today. I am going to set bail at one million dollars. I am also going to require Mr. Roulet to be supervised by the court with weekly check-ins. If he misses one, he forfeits his freedom.”

  I quickly glanced out into the gallery, where Dobbs was sitting next to Fernando Valenzuela. Dobbs was a thin man who shaved his head to hide male-pattern balding. His thinness was exaggerated by Valenzuela’s girth. I waited for a signal as to whether I should take the judge’s bail order or try to argue for a lower amount. Sometimes, when a judge thinks he is giving you a gift, it can backfire to press for more—or in this case less.

  Dobbs was sitting in the first seat in the first row. He simply got up and started to walk out of the courtroom, leavi
ng Valenzuela behind. I took that to mean that I should leave well enough alone, that the Roulet family could handle the million. I turned back to the bench.

  “Thank you, Your Honor,” I said.

  The clerk immediately called the next case. I glanced at Maggie as she was closing the file on the case she would no longer prosecute. She then stood up and walked out through the bar and down the center aisle of the courtroom. She spoke to no one and she did not look back at me.

  “Mr. Haller?”

  I turned to my client. Behind him I saw a deputy coming to take him back into holding. He’d be bused the half block back to jail and then, depending on how fast Dobbs and Valenzuela worked, released later in the day.

  “I’ll work with Mr. Dobbs and get you out,” I said. “Then we’ll sit down and talk about the case.”

  “Thank you,” Roulet said as he was led away. “Thank you for being here.”

  “Remember what I said. Don’t talk to strangers. Don’t talk to anybody.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  After he was gone I walked to the bar. Valenzuela was waiting at the gate for me with a big smile on his face. Roulet’s bail was likely the highest he had ever secured. That meant his cut would be the highest he’d ever received. He clapped me on the arm as I came through the gate.

  “What’d I tell you?” he said. “We got ourselves a franchise here, boss.”

  “We’ll see, Val,” I said. “We’ll see.”

  FIVE

  E very attorney who works the machine has two fee schedules. There is schedule A, which lists the fees the attorney would like to get for certain services rendered. And there is schedule B, the fees he is willing to take because that is all the client can afford. A franchise client is a defendant who wants to go to trial and has the money to pay his lawyer’s schedule A rates. From first appearance to arraignment to preliminary hearing and on to trial and then appeal, the franchise client demands hundreds if not thousands of billable hours. He can keep gas in the tank for two to three years. From where I hunt, they are the rarest and most highly sought beast in the jungle.

  And it was beginning to look like Valenzuela had been on the money. Louis Roulet was looking more and more like a franchise client. It had been a dry spell for me. It had been almost two years since I’d had anything even approaching a franchise case or client. I’m talking about a case earning six figures. There were many that started out looking like they might reach that rare plateau but they never went the distance.

  C. C. Dobbs was waiting in the hallway outside the arraignment court when I got out. He was standing next to the wall of glass windows that looked down upon the civic center plaza below. I walked up to him quickly. I had a few seconds’ lead on Valenzuela coming out of the court and I wanted some private time with Dobbs.

  “Sorry,” Dobbs said before I could speak. “I didn’t want to stay in there another minute. It was so depressing to see the boy caught up in that cattle call.”

  “The boy?”

  “Louis. I’ve represented the family for twenty-five years. I guess I still think of him as a boy.”

  “Are you going to be able to get him out?”

  “It won’t be a problem. I have a call in to Louis’s mother to see how she wants to handle it, whether to put up property or go with a bond.”

  To put up property to cover a million-dollar bail would mean that at least a million dollars in the property’s value could not be encumbered by a mortgage. Additionally, the court might require a current appraisal of the property, which could take days and keep Roulet waiting in jail. Conversely, a bond could be purchased through Valenzuela for a ten percent premium. The difference was that the ten percent was never returned. That stayed with Valenzuela for his risks and trouble and was the reason for his broad smile in the courtroom. After paying his insurance premium on the million-dollar bail, he’d end up clearing close to ninety grand. And he was worried about me taking care of him.

  “Can I make a suggestion?” I asked.

  “Please do.”

  “Louis looked a little frail when I saw him back in the lockup. If I were you I would get him out of there as soon as possible. To do that you should have Valenzuela write a bond. It will cost you a hundred grand but the boy will be out and safe, you know what I mean?”

  Dobbs turned to the window and leaned on the railing that ran along the glass. I looked down and saw that the plaza was filling up with people from the government buildings on lunch break. I could see many people with the red-and-white name tags I knew were given to jurors.

  “I know what you mean.”

  “The other thing is that cases like this tend to bring the rats out of the walls.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean other inmates who will say they heard somebody say something. Especially a case that gets on the news or into the newspapers. They’ll take that info off the tube and make it sound like our guy was talking.”

  “That’s criminal,” Dobbs said indignantly. “That shouldn’t be allowed.”

  “Yeah, I know, but it happens. And the longer he stays in there, the wider the window of opportunity is for one of these guys.”

  Valenzuela joined us at the railing. He didn’t say anything.

  “I will suggest we go with the bond,” Dobbs said. “I already called and she was in a meeting. As soon as she calls me back we will move on this.”

  His words prompted something that had bothered me during the hearing.

  “She couldn’t come out of a meeting to talk about her son in jail? I was wondering why she wasn’t in court today if this boy, as you call him, is so clean and upstanding.”

  Dobbs looked at me like I hadn’t used mouthwash in a month.

  “Mrs. Windsor is a very busy and powerful woman. I am sure that if I had stated it was an emergency concerning her son, she would have been on the phone immediately.”

  “Mrs. Windsor?”

  “She remarried after she and Louis’s father divorced. That was a long time ago.”

  I nodded, then realized that there was more to talk about with Dobbs but nothing I wanted to discuss in front of Valenzuela.

  “Val, why don’t you go check on when Louis will be back at Van Nuys jail so you can get him out.”

  “That’s easy,” Valenzuela said. “He’ll go on the first bus back after lunch.”

  “Yeah, well, go double-check that while I finish with Mr. Dobbs.”

  Valenzuela was about to protest that he didn’t need to double-check it when he realized what I was telling him.

  “Okay,” he said. “I’ll go do it.”

  After he was gone I studied Dobbs for a moment before speaking. Dobbs looked to be in his late fifties. He had a deferential presence that probably came from thirty years of taking care of rich people. My guess was that he had become rich in the process himself but it hadn’t changed his public demeanor.

  “If we’re going to be working together, I guess I should ask what you want to be called. Cecil? C.C.? Mr. Dobbs?”

  “Cecil will be fine.”

  “Well, my first question, Cecil, is whether we are going to be working together. Do I have the job?”

  “Mr. Roulet made it clear to me he wanted you on the case. To be honest, you would not have been my first choice. You may not have been any choice, because frankly I had never heard of you. But you are Mr. Roulet’s first choice, and that is acceptable to me. In fact, I thought you acquitted yourself quite well in the courtroom, especially considering how hostile that prosecutor was toward Mr. Roulet.”

  I noticed that the boy had become “Mr. Roulet” now. I wondered what had happened to advance him in Dobbs’s view.

  “Yeah, well, they call her Maggie McFierce. She’s pretty dedicated.”

  “I thought she was a bit overboard. Do you think there is any way to get her removed from the case, maybe get someone a little more . . . grounded?”

  “I don’t know. Trying to shop prosecutors can be dangerous. But if you thin
k she needs to go, I can get it done.”

  “That’s good to hear. Maybe I should have known about you before today.”

  “Maybe. Do you want to talk about fees now and get it out of the way?”

  “If you would like.”

  I looked around the hallway to make sure there were no other lawyers hanging around in earshot. I was going to go schedule A all the way on this.

  “I get twenty-five hundred for today and Louis already approved that. If you want to go hourly from here, I get three hundred an hour and that gets bumped to five in trial because I can’t do anything else. If you’d rather go with a flat rate, I’ll want sixty thousand to take it from here through a preliminary hearing. If we end it with a plea, I’ll take twelve more on top of that. If we go to trial instead, I need another sixty on the day we decide that and twenty-five more when we start picking a jury. This case doesn’t look like more than a week, including jury selection, but if it goes past a week, I get twenty-five-a-week extra. We can talk about an appeal if and when it becomes necessary.”

  I hesitated a moment to see how Dobbs was reacting. He showed nothing so I pressed on.

  “I’ll need thirty thousand for a retainer and another ten for an investigator by the end of the day. I don’t want to waste time on this. I want to get an investigator out and about on this thing before it hits the media and maybe before the cops talk to some of the people involved.”

  Dobbs slowly nodded.

  “Are those your standard fees?”

  “When I can get them. I’m worth it. What are you charging the family, Cecil?”

  I was sure he wouldn’t walk away from this little episode hungry.

  “That’s between me and my client. But don’t worry. I will include your fees in my discussion with Mrs. Windsor.”

  “I appreciate it. And remember, I need that investigator to start today.”

  I gave him a business card I pulled from the right pocket of my suit coat. The cards in the right pocket had my cell number. The cards in my left pocket had the number that went to Lorna Taylor.

  “I have another hearing downtown,” I said. “When you get him out call me and we’ll set up a meeting. Let’s make it as soon as possible. I should be available later today and tonight.”