“You want billing records,” I said. “I don’t have any of that here. My office manager has all of the current stuff, and the rest is in storage.”
“My partner is serving a warrant at Ms. Taylor’s residence,” Drucker said. “And we have a third for your storage unit. I was hoping you would cooperate and meet us there to facilitate that search after this.”
I stepped back from the doorway and held my arm out, signaling them to enter. I noticed Kendall in the door to the hallway leading to the back. She was holding up my phone.
“It’s Lorna,” she said.
“Tell her I know she’s getting searched,” I said. “I’ll call her back in five.”
I turned to the four law officers now standing in my living room.
“I have a home office in the back,” I said. “I assume you’ll want to start there. But like I said, I don’t keep billing records here. Lorna handles all of that.”
Drucker was not put off.
“If you could show us the way,” he said. “We’ll try to make this as painless as possible.”
They followed me down the hall. I saw that Kendall had retreated to our bedroom and closed the door. As we went by, I knocked on the door to get her attention.
“Kendall, I need to stay with these guys,” I said. “Will you bring me some socks and my shoes?”
I then moved to the last door in the hallway, which led to a bedroom I’d converted into an office. There was a desk covered in paperwork and files.
“These are case files that contain privileged information you are not entitled to look at,” I said.
I reached down and started opening drawers in the desk so they would see they were mostly empty.
“Knock yourself out but, as you can see, no billing records,” I said. “You’re wasting your time and mine.”
I moved back around from behind the desk so there was room for the searchers. There was a couch in the office, where I slept on occasion. I sat down as Kendall entered with a fresh pair of socks and my black lace-up Ferro Aldo boots. She also handed me my cell phone.
“You people are unbelievable,” Kendall said. “Why don’t you just leave him alone?”
“It’s okay, Kendall,” I said. “They’re wrong, but they’re just doing their job. The sooner we let them get to it, the sooner they’re out of here.”
Kendall left the room in a huff. I called Lorna back.
“Mickey, they’re searching my records,” she said upon answering.
“I know,” I said. “They can look at the billing. Just make sure they’re not looking at privileged material.”
“I’m not letting them near that. But you know, all the stuff with Sam Scales is not here.”
“Detective Drucker is here. I told him that but they’re going to do what they want to do.”
Lorna lowered her voice to a whisper for her next question.
“What does this mean, Mickey? What are they looking for?”
I hadn’t really had time to think about those questions. I told Lorna I would call her back and disconnected. I then sat on the couch, unmoving, as I watched Drucker and the unnamed detective going through the drawers of my desk. The uniformed officers were milling about in the hallway. They were there to enforce the search if there was pushback. But since I was cooperating, they had nothing to do but stand with their hands on their equipment belts.
I knew that Death Row Dana was shoring up her case. I guessed that this search was about accounts receivable and motive. They were looking for documentation that Sam Scales had stiffed me. They wanted my own records to prove it, and that told me that the murder-for-financial-gain charge was still in play.
A few minutes later Drucker closed all the drawers in the desk and looked at me.
“Let’s check the garage,” he said.
“There’s nothing in the garage,” I said. “The California bar frowns on client records being stored in unsecured locations. You want to just skip all of this and go to my warehouse. I know what you’re looking for, and if I have it, it’s there.”
“Where’s your warehouse?”
“Over the hill. Studio City.”
“Let’s check the garage and then go.”
“Whatever.”
It was too early for Bishop to be around. After the garage was cleared — my first time being in there since the murder — I drove the Lincoln, and as I made my way north through Laurel Canyon, I thought about how many times I had chided clients for being cooperative with the people working to take away their freedom. Do you think by being nice and helping them out you’ll convince them you didn’t do it? Not a chance. These people want to take everything away from you: your family, your home, your freedom. Do not cooperate with them!
And yet here I was, leading a parade of police cars to the place where I kept the records of my practice and livelihood. This was the moment when I thought maybe I did have a fool for a client. Maybe I should have just told Drucker to fuck off and let him find the warehouse on his own, then cut the locks and figure out where the files were.
My phone buzzed and it was Lorna again.
“I thought you were going to call me back.”
“Sorry, I forgot.”
“Well, they’re gone. I heard them say they were going to the warehouse.”
“Yeah, I’m heading there now.”
“Mickey, what are the chances they’re going to finish their search and then arrest you on new charges?”
“I thought about that, but they let me drive my own car and lead them up here. No way Drucker would have done that if he had an arrest warrant in his pocket.”
“I hope you’re right.”
“Have you heard from Jennifer yet today?”
“Not yet.”
“Okay, I’ll call her to let her know what’s going on. Hang in there, Lorna.”
“I just wish this would all be over.”
“Me too.”
I led the police brigade up Lankershim to the climate-controlled warehouse where I kept my records along with male and female mannequins and other props I had used at trials over the years. I also had two racks of suits there of various sizes that I kept for clients to wear in court and the third of my three Lincoln Town Cars. There was also an upright AMSEC gun safe for when I took firearms in trade for services rendered. As a condition of my bail, I could have no firearms, so I’d had Cisco take the guns to the home he shared with Lorna until the case came to an end.
The warehouse had a roll-up garage door, which I opened for the searchers. I then led them to a locked storage room within the warehouse, where I kept archived records in locked filing cabinets, in full compliance with California bar guidelines for securing client records. I used a key to unlock the first four-drawer cabinet.
“Have at it, gentlemen,” I said. “This row contains the business records going back to ’05, I believe. You will find the P and Os, the accounting and tax returns, all the financial stuff. That’s what you are entitled to see under the scope of the warrant. The other drawers contain case files and they’re off-limits — even the Sam Scales files.”
The room was too small for the whole group, which now included Drucker’s partner, Lopes. I backed out of the room to where the uniformed cops stood and I hovered by the doorway, where I could keep a watch on the search.
There was a folding table in the file-storage room that I used when I had to look through old cases. The detectives remained standing but opened the files they were interested in on the table. If there was something they wanted to take, they placed it to the side.
With the three of them working it, the search was conducted quickly, and by the time they were finished, they had placed four documents aside to seize under the authority of the search warrant. I asked to see them.