Mickey Haller 4 - The Fifth Witness

myself after dropping Cisco in the garage, I thought about the law of the land and the law of the streets and the differences between them. I stood in courtrooms and insisted that the law of the land be applied fairly and appropriately. There was nothing that had been fair and appropriate about what I had just been party to in the black room.
    Still, it didn’t bother me. Cisco had been right. I needed to gain the upper hand inside my own soul before I could gain it in court or anywhere else. I felt renewed as I drove. I opened all the Lincoln’s windows and let the evening air course through the car as I came down Laurel Canyon toward home.
    This time Maggie had used her key. She was already inside when I got there, an unexpected but pleasant surprise. The refrigerator door was open and she was leaning down and looking in.
    “I really came because you always used to stock up before a trial. Your refrigerator was like going down the cold aisle at Gelson’s. But what happened? There’s nothing here.”
    I dropped my keys on the table. She had been to her own home from work first and had changed. She wore faded denim jeans, a peasant shirt and sandals with thick cork heels. She knew I liked that outfit.
    “I guess I didn’t get around to it this time.”
    “Well, I wish I’d known. Might’ve considered going somewhere else on my one night this week with a sitter.”
    She smiled slyly. I couldn’t figure out why we weren’t still living together.
    “How about we go down to Dan’s?”
    “Dan Tana’s? I thought you went there only when you won a case. You already counting your chickens, Haller?”
    I smiled and shook my head.
    “No, no way. But if I went there only when I won then I’d hardly ever get to eat there.”
    She pointed a finger at me and smiled. It was a dance and we were both well used to it. She closed the fridge and walked through the kitchen door and then right past me without so much as a kiss.
    “Dan Tana’s is open late,” she said.
    I watched her walk down the hallway toward the master bedroom. She pulled the peasant blouse up over her head just as she disappeared into the room.
    We didn’t really make love. Something about what I had seen and felt in the black room at the Saints was still with me. Call it residual aggression or the release of the impotent anger I had felt. Whatever it was, it informed all my moves with her. I pulled and pushed too hard. I bit her lip and held her wrists together above her head. I controlled her and I knew what it was all about while I did it. Maggie went with it at first. The newness of it was probably interesting. But curiosity eventually turned to concern and she turned her face from mine and struggled to free her hands. I held her wrists tighter. Finally, I saw tears well in her eyes.
    “What?” I whispered into her ear, my nose pressing hard into her hair.
    “Just finish,” she said.
    All aggression and drive and desire went down the psychic drain after that. Her tears and telling me to finish made me unable to. I pulled out and off, rolling to the side of the bed. I put a forearm across my eyes but still could feel her watching me.
    “What?”
    “What is with you tonight? Is this something to do with Andrea? Getting me back for what’s going on in court or something?”
    I felt her move off the bed.
    “Maggie, of course not! Court’s got nothing to do with it.”
    “Then what?”
    But the bathroom door had closed before I could answer and the shower immediately was turned on, cutting off the exchange.
    “I’ll tell you at dinner,” I said, even though I knew she couldn’t hear me.
    Dan Tana’s was packed but Christian came through and got us quickly into a booth in the left corner. Maggie and I had not spoken during the fifteen-minute ride into West Hollywood. I had tried some small talk about our daughter but Maggie had been unresponsive so I let it go. I thought that I would try again in the restaurant.
    We both ordered the Steak Helen with pasta on the side. Alfredo for Maggie and Bolognese for me. Maggie picked an Italian red for herself and I ordered a bottle of fizzy water. After the waiter left I reached across the table and put my hand on her wrist, gently this time.
    “I’m sorry, Maggie. Let’s start over.”
    She pulled her arm away from me.
    “You still owe me an explanation, Haller. That wasn’t making love. I don’t know what’s going on with you. I don’t think you should treat anyone that way, but