But that wasn’t like me, to believe in innocence.
“Look, Lisa, I am hoping that it will very clearly demonstrate to the jury that there is a strong alternate possibility, complete with motive and opportunity. But you need to calm down and recognize that it might not be evidence of anything. I expect that the prosecution is going to come in tomorrow with an argument to keep it away from the jury. We have to be prepared to fend that off as well as to proceed without it. So I have a lot-”
“They can’t just do that! This is evidence!”
“Lisa, they can argue anything they want. And the judge will decide. The good thing is he owes us one. In fact, he owes us two for the hammer and the DNA dropping out of the sky. So I hope he’ll do the right thing here and we’ll get it in. That’s why you have to let me go now. I need to get back to the office and get to work on this.”
She reached up and patted down my tie and adjusted the collar on my suit coat.
“Okay, I get it. You do what you have to do, but call me tonight, okay? I want to know where things stand at the end of the day.”
“If there’s time, Lisa. If I’m not too tired, I will call.”
I looked over her shoulder at Dahl, who stood two feet behind her. I actually needed the guy at the moment.
“Herb, take care of her. Get her home so I can go back to work.”
“I’ve got her,” he said. “No worries.”
Right, no worries. I had the whole case to worry about and I couldn’t help but worry about my client going off with the man I just sent her with. Was Dahl for real or was he just protecting his investment? I watched them head off across the plaza toward the parking garage. I then walked past the library and north toward my office. I was probably more excited about the possibilities that had dropped into my lap than Lisa was. I just wasn’t showing it. You never show your cards unless your opponent has called the final bet.
When I got back to the office I was still floating on adrenaline. The pure, high-octane form that comes with the unexpected twist in your favor. Cisco and Bullocks were waiting for me when I entered. They both started talking at once and I had to raise my hands to cut them both off.
“Hold on, hold on,” I said. “One at a time and I go first. Perry adjourned early so the state could jump on the target letter. We need to be ready for their best shot in the morning because I want to get it before the jury. Cisco, now you, what’ve you got? Tell me about the letter.”
My momentum, carried all the way from the courthouse, took us into my office and I went behind the desk. The seat was warm and I could tell someone had been working there all afternoon.
“Okay,” Cisco said. “We confirmed the letter was legit. The U.S. Attorney’s Office wouldn’t talk to us, but I found out that the Secret Service agent who’s named in the letter, Charles Vasquez, is assigned to a joint task force with the FBI that is looking into all angles of mortgage fraud in the Southern California district. Remember last year when all the big banks temporarily halted foreclosures and everybody in Congress said they would investigate?”
“Yeah, I thought I was going out of business. Until the banks started foreclosing again.”
“Yeah, well, one of the investigations that did get going was right here. Lattimore put together this task force.”
Reggie Lattimore was the U.S. attorney assigned to the district. I knew him years ago when he was a public defender. He later switched sides and became a federal prosecutor and we moved in different orbits. I tried to stay away from the federal courthouse. I saw him from time to time at lunch counters downtown.
“Okay, he won’t talk to us. What about Vasquez?”
“I tried him, too. I got him on the line, but as soon as he knew what it was about he had no comment. I called back a second time and he just hung up on me. I think if we want to talk to him we’re going to have to paper him.”
I knew from experience that trying to serve a subpoena on a federal agent could be like fishing without a hook on the end of your line. If they don’t want to be papered they’ll be able to avoid it.
“We might not have to,” I said. “The judge adjourned early so the prosecution could run the letter down. My guess is she’ll bring either Lattimore or Vasquez in and put him on before we can do it. Then she can try to spin it her way.”
“She won’t want this to blow up in her face during the defense phase,” Aronson added, like the seasoned trial veteran she was not. “And the best way to guard against that is to bring Vasquez in as a witness herself.”
“What do we know about this task force?” I asked.
“I don’t have anybody inside,” Cisco said. “But I’ve got someone close enough to know what is going on. The task force is obviously very political. The thinking was that there is so much fraud out there, it would be like shooting fish and they could grab headlines and look like they were doing something on their end about the whole mess. Opparizio is a perfect target: rich, arrogant and Republican. Whatever they are working in regard to him, it’s just starting and hasn’t gone very deep.”
“Doesn’t matter,” I said. “The target letter is all we need. It will make Bondurant’s letter look like a legitimate threat.”
“Do you really think this is what happened or are we just using this coincidence to deflect the jury’s attention?” Aronson asked.
She was still standing even though Cisco and I had sat down. There was something symbolic about it. As if by not sitting down with us as we schemed this out, she was not buying in or selling her soul.
“It doesn’t matter, Bullocks,” I said. “We have one job here and that’s to put a not guilty on the scoreboard. How we get there…”
I didn’t need to finish. I could see in her face that she was continuing to have difficulty with the lessons taught outside the classroom. I turned back to Cisco.
“So who leaked the letter to us?”
“That I don’t know,” he said. “I kind of doubt it was Vasquez. He acted too surprised and edgy on the phone. I’m thinking somebody in the U.S. Attorney’s Office.”
I agreed.
“Maybe Lattimore himself. If we’re lucky enough to get Opparizio on the stand, it might actually help the feds to have him locked into some sworn testimony.”
Cisco nodded. It was as good a possibility as anything else. I moved on.
“Cisco,” I said, “the text you sent me in the courtroom said you had something unrelated to this to tell me.”
“To show you. We need to take a ride when we’re finished here.”
“Where?”
“I’d rather just show you.”
I could tell by the way his face froze that he wasn’t going to talk in front of Bullocks. It didn’t matter that she was a trusted part of the team. I got the message and turned back to her.
“Bullocks, you wanted to say something when I first came in?”
“Uh, no, I just wanted to talk about my testimony. But we have a few days before we need to touch base. I guess we should just stay in the moment.”
“You sure? I can talk.”
“No, go with Cisco. Maybe we’ll get some time tomorrow.”
I could tell that something in the initial conversation was bothering her. I let it go and got up from my desk. I felt sympathy for her but not too much. Idealism dies hard with everybody.
Thirty
I drove the Lincoln because Cisco had ridden his motorcycle to work. He directed me north on Van Nuys Boulevard.
“Is this about Lisa’s husband?” I asked. “You found him?”
“Uh, no, not about that. It’s about the two guys in the garage, Boss.”
“The guys who attacked me? You connected them to Opparizio?”
“Yes and no. It’s about them, but it’s not connected to Opparizio.”
“Then who the hell sent them after me?”
“Herb Dahl.”
“What? You gotta be shitting me.”
“I wish.”