The Gods of Guilt(119)
“To the gods of guilt,” I said. “May they release Andre La Cosse soon.”
That turned the happy moment somber, but it couldn’t be helped. Getting a not-guilty verdict was a long shot. Even when you knew in your gut that you were sitting next to an innocent man at the defense table, you also knew that the NGs came grudgingly from a system designed only to deal with the guilty. I had to satisfy myself with knowing, no matter the outcome, that I had done all I could do for Andre La Cosse.
I then cleared my throat, held up my glass, and offered another toast.
“And to Gloria Dayton and Earl Briggs. May justice be done by our work.”
The others chimed in and an impromptu moment of silence followed. It seemed that we all were reminded that the victims in this case were many.
I broke the spell by steering everyone back to the business at hand.
“Before we all get too drunk, let’s talk about tomorrow for a few minutes.”
I went down the line, pointing to each as I gave orders and asked questions.
“Lorna, I want to go in a little bit early. So pick me up at seven forty-five, okay?”
“Hey, I’ll be there if you’ll be there.”
A not-so-veiled reference to my showing up late that morning.
“Jennifer, are you with me tomorrow or do you have things on your calendar?”
“I’m there in the morning. In the afternoon I’ve got a loan-modification hearing.”
Another foreclosure case, which were still the only cases bringing in any money.
“All right. Cisco, where are we with the witnesses?”
“Well, you have Budwin stashed at Checkers. Just let me know whether to bring him to the courthouse. You got my guy from the Ferrari dealership standing by and ready to authenticate. Then you’ve got the big question. Marco. Will he show up or not?”
I nodded.
“He has till ten, so I’d better be able to put someone in the chair at nine when the judge comes out. So bring Budwin over first thing.”
“You got it.”
“When does Moya come in?”
“They won’t divulge an exact time for security reasons. But they are transporting him from Victorville tomorrow. I don’t think you can count on him in court till Thursday.”
“That’ll work.”
I nodded. Things seemed to be in place. I would have rather held back Budwin Dell, the gun dealer, until after I knew whether Marco was going to testify, but I had no choice. A trial was always a work in progress and it almost never rolled out the way you initially planned or envisioned it.
“What about going with Lankford ahead of Marco?” Jennifer asked, eyeing the witness order I had written along one side of the whiteboard. “Would that work?”
“I have to think about it,” I said. “It might.”
“There are no maybes and might-bes in trial,” Legal Siegel announced. “You gotta be sure.”
I put my arm on his shoulder and nodded my thanks for his counsel.
“He’s right. Legal’s always right.”
Everyone laughed, including Legal. The work questions finished for the moment, we went back to eating. I took a second piece of pizza and soon the wine worked its way into everybody in the room, and the banter and laughs continued. All seemed well in the Haller & Associates universe. No one seemed to notice that I was not actually drinking my wine.
Then my phone started vibrating. I pulled it from my pocket, checking the caller ID before answering because I didn’t want to intrude on the moment.
LA COUNTY JAIL
Normally, I wouldn’t take a call after hours from the jail. Most of the time it’s a collect call from somebody who got my name and number from somebody else. Nine out of ten times it’s somebody who says he has money for private counsel but ultimately proves to be lying about that and everything else. But this time I knew there was a good chance it was Andre La Cosse. He had taken to calling me from the jail after court to discuss what had happened that day and what to expect the next. I stood up and worked my way around the table so I could walk out into the loft and be able to hear the call.
“Hello?”
“I’m looking for Michael Haller.”
It wasn’t Andre and it wasn’t a collect call. I instinctively closed the door to the boardroom to further insulate myself from the noise.
“This is Haller. Who is this?”
“This is Sergeant Rowley at the Men’s Central jail. I am calling to tell you there has been an incident involving your client Andre La Cosse.”
He had pronounced “La Cosse” wrong.
“What do you mean? What incident?”
I started pacing across the empty wooden floor, putting more space between me and the boardroom.