“Oh my god! Why is this happening?”
Earl came back into the room. He had looked through the door’s peephole.
“Valenzuela?” I whispered.
He nodded. I looked back at Roberts.
“Or, if you want, I could accept service on your behalf and then go see a judge to quash it.”
“What does that mean?”
“Trash it. Make sure you’re not involved, that there’s no deposition.”
“And how much will that cost me?”
I shook my head.
“Nothing. I’ll just do it. You’ve helped me here, I’ll help you. I’ll keep you out of this.”
It was an offer I wasn’t sure I could make good on. But something about her fear made me say it. Something about her coming to the dreadful realization that she had not outrun the past touched me. I understood that.
There was another knock, followed by Valenzuela calling Roberts out by name. Earl went back to the peephole.
“I have a business,” Roberts whispered. “Clients. They don’t know about what I used to do. If it gets out, I’ll . . .”
She was on the verge of tears.
“Don’t worry. It won’t.”
I didn’t know why I was making these promises. I felt confident I could get the subpoena quashed. But Fulgoni could just restart the process. And there was no way I could control the media. Right now this whole thing was flying below the radar but Moya’s appeal contained charges of government misconduct, and if there was a full airing of the allegations, it was bound to draw attention. Whether that interest would extend to a peripheral player like Kendall Roberts was unknown but not something I could prevent.
And then there was the La Cosse case. I wasn’t yet sure how I could use Moya and his appeal in my client’s defense, but at minimum I knew I could introduce it as a diversion to muddy the waters of the prosecution’s case and make the jurors think of other possibilities.
Earl stepped back into the living room.
“He’s gone,” he said.
I looked at Roberts.
“But he’ll be back,” I said. “Or he’ll sit out there and wait for you. Do you want me to handle it for you?”
She thought for a moment and then nodded.
“Yes, thank you.”
“You got it.”
I asked for her phone number and the address of her yoga studio and wrote them down. I told her I would let her know when I had disposed of the subpoena. I then thanked her, and Earl and I left. I was pulling out my phone so I could call Valenzuela and tell him to come back so I could accept service, when I saw I didn’t need to. Valenzuela was waiting for me, sitting on the front hood of my Lincoln, leaning back on his hands and holding his face up to the sun. He spoke without turning his face or changing his position.
“Really, Mick? Clergy? I mean, how low will you go?”
I spread my arms wide like a minister in front of his flock.
“My pulpit is the well of the courtroom. I preach to the twelve apostles, the gods of guilt.”
Valenzuela casually looked at me.
“Yeah, well, whatever. It’s still pretty low and you should be ashamed of your ass. Almost as low as you racing out here ahead of me and hiding in there, telling her not to answer the door.”
I nodded. He had it all figured out. I signaled him off the hood of the car.
“Well, Val, Ms. Roberts is now my client and I am authorized to accept the subpoena from Fulgoni on her behalf.”
He slid off the car, dragging the wallet chain looped from his belt to his back pocket along the paint.
“Oh, geez, my fucking bad. I hope I didn’t scratch it, Reverend.”
“Just give me the paper.”
He pulled the rolled-up document out of his back pocket and slapped it into my palm.
“Good,” he said. “Saves me havin’ to sit on this place all day.”
He then waved over my shoulder at the house behind me. I turned and saw Kendall looking out the living-room window. I waved as if to say everything was okay and she closed the curtain.
I turned back to Valenzuela. He had his phone out and snapped a photo of me holding the subpoena.
“That’s really not necessary,” I said.
“With a guy like you I’m beginning to think it is,” he said.
“So, tell me, how did it go dropping paper on James Marco, or is he playing hard to get?”
“I’m not telling you shit anymore, Mick. And what you said before about hiring me to run your paper, that was all bullshit, wasn’t it?”
I shrugged. Valenzuela had already been useful to me and I knew I shouldn’t burn the bridge. But something about his dragging his chain across the hood of my car bothered me.
“Probably,” I said. “I’ve already got a full-time investigator. He usually handles that stuff.”