“I’m ready,” she said. “But I’m also ready to argue bail. You need to be out so you can prepare for trial without needing a bodyguard watching your back while you’re eating baloney fucking sandwiches.”
I laughed. I guessed I had complained a little too often about the Twin Towers menu.
“Look, I get that,” I said. “And I don’t mean to laugh. But I need to keep payroll going and I just don’t want to come out of this thing bankrupt and with nothing left for my daughter. Somebody’s got to pay for law school, and it’s not going to be Maggie McFierce.”
My first ex-wife and the mother of my child was a prosecutor in the District Attorney’s Office. Real name: Maggie McPherson. She made a comfortable living and had raised our daughter, Hayley, in a safe neighborhood in Sherman Oaks—not counting a two-year stint in Ventura County, where she went to work for the D.A. while waiting for a political fire to burn itself out down here. I had paid for private schools all the way and now Hayley was 1L at USC after graduating from Chapman in May. That carried a steep price tag that fell solely to me to pay. I had planned for it and had it covered in savings, but not if I pulled the cash and put it into a nonrefundable bond just to spring myself loose to prep for trial.
I had done the math and it wasn’t worth it. Even if we persuaded Judge Warfield to cut bail in half, I was still looking at needing $250,000 to buy a bond that really only amounted to three months of freedom. After all, I had refused to waive my right to a speedy trial and had the state on a clock—sixty court days within which to put me on trial. This meant that the trial was only two months away, in February, and the verdict would either give me back my freedom or permanently suspend it. On many previous occasions, I had counseled clients to save their bond money and nut it out in Twin Towers.
Usually that was to make sure they had money to pay me. But now, that was the counsel I gave myself.
“Have you talked to Maggie about this?” Jennifer asked. “Has she even visited you over there yet?”
“Yes, she’s visited and, yes, we’ve talked,” I said. “She says the same thing you say, and I don’t disagree it would be better. But it’s about priorities. Case priorities.”
“Look, you know that Lorna, Cisco, and I have all said we can defer paychecks till this is over. I really think this is a case priority and you need to reconsider. Besides, what about Hayley? You already missed Thanksgiving with her. You want to miss Christmas too?”
“Okay, duly noted. Let’s see if there’s time to get to it today. If not, we’ll take it up in the next round. Let’s move on past the motions. Cisco, what’s happening with the review of previous cases?”
“Me and Lorna are through more than half the files,” Cisco said. “So far nothing stands out. But we’re working on it and making a list of possibles.”
He was talking about a list of former clients and enemies who might have the motive and wherewithal to pin a murder rap on me.
“Okay, I need that,” I said. “I can’t just go into court and say I was framed. A third-party-culpability case requires a third party.”
“We’re on it,” Cisco said. “If it’s there, we’ll find it.”
“If?” I asked.
“I didn’t mean it like that, boss,” Cisco said. “I just meant—”
“Listen,” I said. “I’ve spent the past twenty-five years of my life telling clients that it didn’t matter to me whether they did it, because my job was to defend them, not judge them. Guilty or innocent, you get the same deal and the same effort. But now that I’m on the other side of it, I know that’s bullshit. I need you two and Lorna to believe in me on this.”
“Of course we do,” Jennifer said.
“Goes without saying,” Cisco added.
“Don’t be so quick to answer,” I said. “You must have questions about it. The state’s case is more than persuasive. So if at any point Death Row Dana turns you into a believer, I need you to step up and step out. I don’t want you on the team.”
“Not going to happen,” Cisco said.
“Never,” added Jennifer.
“Good,” I said. “Then let’s go to war. Jennifer, can you go get my suit and bring it in so I can get ready?”
“Be right back,” she said.
She got up and hammered on the steel door with one hand while waving to the overhead camera with the other. Soon I heard the sharp metal crack of the door unlocking. A deputy opened it to let her out.
“So,” I said, once Cisco and I were alone. “What’s the water temp these days down in Baja?”
“Oh, it’s nice,” Cisco said. “I talked to my guy down there and he said high eighties.”
“Too warm for me. Tell him to let me know when it gets down to about seventy. That would be perfect for me.”
“I’ll tell him.”
I nodded to Cisco and tried not to smile for the overhead camera. Hopefully, this last bit of conversation was intriguing enough to any illegal listeners to send them fishing for a red herring down in Mexico.
“So, what about our victim?” I said.
“Still working it,” Cisco said hesitantly. “I’m hoping Jennifer gets more stuff in discovery today so I can run down his movements and how and when he ended up in your trunk.”
“Sam Scales was a slippery guy. Nailing him down is going to be tough, but I’m going to need that.”
“Don’t worry. You’ll have it.”
I nodded. I liked Cisco’s confidence. I hoped it would pay off. I thought for a moment about my former client Sam Scales, the ultimate con man who had even conned me. Now the victim in the biggest con of all, I was set up for a murder that I knew was going to be a hard frame to break.
“Hey, boss, you okay?” Cisco asked.
“Yeah, fine,” I said. “Just thinking about things. This is going to be fun.”
Cisco nodded. He knew it was going to be anything but fun, but he understood the sentiment. Act like a winner and you’ll become a winner.
The cell door slid open again and Jennifer came back in, carrying my court clothes on two hangers. I usually reserved the pink oxford for appearances before a jury, but that was okay. Just seeing the sharp cut of the suit kicked my mood up to a new level. I started getting ready for battle.
5
My suit fit me loosely. I felt like I was swimming in it. The first thing I told Jennifer when they moved me into court and took off the chains was to ask Lorna to go to my house, pick out two of my suits, and take them to a tailor to be altered.
“That’s going to be kind of hard without you there to be measured,” she said.
“I don’t care, it’s important,” I said. “I don’t want to look like a guy in a borrowed suit in front of the media. That gets out to the jury pool and sends a message.”
“Okay, I get it.”
“Tell her to have them taken in a full size all around.”
Before she could respond, Dana Berg stepped over to the defense table and put down a set of documents.
“Our answers to your motions,” she said. “I’m sure it will all come out in oral.”