“All right, I’ll ask Elliot if he wants to pay it. Meantime, I’m going to hit all the files again tonight, and if I get lucky and crack through, then we won’t need him. We say fuck you and are done with him.”
“Asshole,” Lorna muttered.
I was pretty sure that was directed at Bruce Carlin and not me.
“Okay, is that it?” I asked. “Anything else?”
I looked from one face to the other. Nobody had anything else to bring up.
“Okay, then, thank you both for all you’ve been putting up with and doing this week. Go out and have a good night.”
Lorna looked at me curiously.
“You’re sending us home?” she asked.
I checked my watch.
“Why not?” I said. “It’s almost four thirty and I’m going to dive into the files and I don’t want any distractions. You two go on home, have a good night and we’ll start again tomorrow.”
“You’re going to work here alone tonight?” Cisco asked.
“Yeah, but don’t worry. I’ll lock the door and I won’t let anybody in – even if I know him.”
I smiled. Lorna and Cisco didn’t. I pointed to the open door to the office. It had a slide bolt that could be used to lock it at the top of the doorframe. If necessary I would be able to secure both outside and inside perimeters. It gave new meaning to the idea of going into lockdown.
“Come on, I’ll be fine. I’ve got work to do.”
They slowly, reluctantly, started to make their way out of my office.
“Lorna,” I called after them. “Patrick should be out there. Tell him to keep hanging. I might have something to tell him after I make that call.”
I opened the Patrick Henson file on my desk and looked up the prosecutor’s number. I wanted to get this out of the way before I went to work on the Elliot case.
The prosecutor was Dwight Posey, a guy I had dealt with before on cases and never liked. Some prosecutors deal with defense attorneys as though they are only one step removed from their clients. As pseudocriminals, not as educated and experienced professionals. Not as necessary cogs in the winding gears of the justice system. Most cops have this view and I can live with it. But it bothers me when fellow lawyers adopt the pose. Unfortunately, Dwight Posey was one of these, and if I could’ve gone through the rest of my life without ever having to talk to him, I would have been a happy man. But that was not going to be the case.
“So, Haller,” he said after taking the call, “they’ve got you walking in a dead man’s shoes, don’t they?”
“What?”
“They gave you all of Jerry Vincent’s cases, right? That’s how you ended up with Henson.”
“Yeah, something like that. Anyway, I’m returning your call, Dwight. Actually, your three calls. What’s up? You get the motion I filed yesterday?”
I reminded myself that I had to step carefully here if I wanted to get everything I could out of the phone call. I couldn’t let my distaste for the prosecutor affect the outcome for my client.
“Yes, I got the motion. It’s sitting right here on my desk. That’s why I’ve been calling.”
He left it open for me to step in.
“And?”
“And, uh, well, we’re not going to do that, Mick.”
“Do what, Dwight?”
“Put our evidence out there for examination.”
It was looking more and more like I had struck a major nerve with my motion.
“Well, Dwight, that’s the beauty of the system, right? You don’t get to make that decision. A judge does. That’s why I didn’t ask you. I put it in a motion and asked the judge.”
Posey cleared his throat.
“No, actually, we do this time,” he said. “We’re going to drop the theft charge and just proceed with the drug charge. So you can withdraw your motion or we can inform the judge that the point is moot.”
I smiled and nodded. I had him. I knew then that Patrick was going to walk.
“Only problem with that, Dwight, is that the drug charge came out of the theft investigation. You know that. When they popped my client, the warrant was for the theft. The drugs were found during the arrest. So you don’t have one without the other.”
I had the feeling that he knew everything I was saying and that the call was simply following a script. We were going where Posey wanted us to go and that was fine with me. This time I wanted to go there, too.
“Then, maybe we can just talk about a disposition on the matter,” he said as if the idea had just occurred to him.
And there we were. We had come to the place Posey had wanted to get to from the moment he’d answered the call.
“I’m open to it, Dwight. You should know that my client voluntarily entered a rehab program after his arrest. He has completed the program, has full-time employment and has been clean for four months. He’ll give his piss anytime, anywhere, to prove it.”
“That is really good to hear,” Posey said with false enthusiasm. “The DA’s Office, as well as the courts, always look favorably upon voluntary rehabilitation.”
Tell me something I don’t know, I almost said.
“The kid is doing good. I can vouch for that. What do you want to do for him?”
