The Gods of Guilt(22)

“Max what?”

“I don’t know his last name. I never even met him. She just mentioned him from time to time. She said he was her muscle.”

“But he didn’t go in with her.”

“Not that I know of.”

I noticed another prisoner was hovering behind my client’s left shoulder. He was trying to listen in on our conversation.

“Let’s move down,” I said.

We moved down the bars to the other side of the holding cell. The eavesdropper stayed behind.

“Okay,” I said. “Tell me about the phone call you made to the hotel to check out the Julia Roberts client. How did that whole thing go down?”

I checked my watch.

“Quickly,” I added.

“Well, he made contact through the website. I told him the prices and—”

“Was this by e-mail?”

“No, he called. From the hotel. I saw it on the caller ID.”

“Okay, go on. He called from the hotel, then what?”

“I told him her price and he said that was fine, and so we set it up for nine thirty that night. He gave me the room number and I told him I needed to call back to confirm. He said fine, so I did.”

“You called the hotel and asked for room eight thirty-seven?”

“That’s right. They connected me and it was the same guy. I told him she’d be there at nine thirty.”

“Okay, and you never dealt with this guy before?”

“No, never.”

“How did he pay?”

“He didn’t. That’s why I got in the fight with Giz. She said he didn’t pay because there was nobody in that room. She said they told her at the desk the guy checked out that day, and I knew that was bullshit because I talked to him in that room.”

“Right, right, but did you discuss payment with him? You know, cash or credit?”

“Yes, he said he was going to pay cash. And that’s why I went to Giz’s place, to collect my share. If the guy had just paid with a credit card, I would have handled the transaction and taken my share. It was paying with cash that made me want to go collect before she had a chance to spend it all or lose it.”

La Cosse’s business practices were becoming clearer to me now.

“And this is how you always did it?”

“Yes.”

“It was routine.”

“Yes, always the same.”

“And this guy’s voice, you didn’t recognize it as a previous customer?”

“No, I didn’t recognize it and he also said he was a new customer. What does this have to do with anything?”

“Maybe nothing but maybe everything. How often were you in contact with Giselle?”

La Cosse shrugged.

“Every day by text. We did a lot of it by text, but when I needed a quick answer I would call her on the cell. Maybe a couple times a week we’d talk.”

“And did you see her very often?”

“Maybe once or twice a week when we had a cash customer. I’d come by to collect after. Sometimes we’d meet for coffee or breakfast and I’d collect then.”

“And she never held back on you?”

“We’d had issues before.”

“How so?”

“I pretty much learned with Giz that money was for spending. The longer I left my money with her, the greater the chance it would get spent. I never waited long to collect.”

I saw the lineup of custodies who had just had first appearances being shuttled from the courtroom back into another holding cell. La Cosse was about to go out.

“Okay, hold on a second.”

I stooped down and opened my briefcase on the tile floor. I took out the document I needed signed and a pen and then stood back up.

“Andre, this is a conflict-of-interest waiver. I need you to sign it if you want me to represent you. It acknowledges that you understand that the victim you are charged with killing was a former client of mine. You are waiving any future claim that I had a conflict of interest while representing you. You are saying right now that you are okay with it. Hurry up and sign it before they see you with the pen.”

I passed the document and pen through and he signed it. He did a quick scan of the page as he passed it back.

“Who is Gloria Dayton?”

“That’s Giselle. That was her real name.”

I bent down to return the document to my briefcase.

“Couple more things,” I said as I stood back up. “You told me yesterday that you would make contact with the client who vouched for Giselle when she came to you. Did you do that yet? I need to talk to her.”

“Yes, she said fine. You can call her. Her name’s Stacey Campbell. Like the soup.”

He gave me the number and I wrote it down on my palm.