Mickey Haller 4 - The Fifth Witness

me.
    “Sorry, Mickey, but I don’t know what you’re talking about. I think you have to remember here that you and I have a deal on the movie. A deal involving circumstances I am sure the California Bar would be interested in reviewing, but other than that…”
    “Are you threatening me, Dahl? Because if you are you’re making a mistake.”
    “No, no threat. I’m just trying to figure out where you’re coming from.”
    “I’m coming from a dark room where I had an interesting conversation with the Mack brothers.”
    Dahl refolded the photo and handed it back to me.
    “These two? They were asking me for directions, that’s all.”
    “Directions, huh? Are you sure it wasn’t money they were asking for? Because we have photos of that, too.”
    “I might’ve given them a few bucks. They asked for help and seemed nice enough.”
    Now I had to smile.
    “You know, you’re good, Herb, but I got their story. So let’s just skip all the bullshit and get down to the play.”
    He shrugged.
    “Okay, this is your show. What’s the play?”
    “The play is what I said at the top. You’re gone, Herb. You kiss Lisa goodbye. You kiss the movie deal goodbye. You kiss your money goodbye.”
    “That’s a lot of kissing. What do I get for all that?”
    “You get to stay out of prison, that’s what you get.”
    He shook his head and glanced over his shoulder again.
    “Doesn’t work that way, Mick. You see, that wasn’t my money. It didn’t come from me.”
    “Who’d it come from, Jerry Castille?”
    His eyes made a quick movement and then settled. The name had hit him like an invisible punch. He now knew that the Mack brothers had caved and talked.
    “Yeah, I know about Jerry and I know about Joey in New York, too. No honor among thugs, Herb. The Mack brothers are ready to start singing like Sonny and Cher. And the song is ‘I’ve Got You, Babe.’ I’ve got you all wrapped up in a nice little package and unless you slink on out of Lisa’s life and my life today, I’m going to drop it off at the DA’s office where I happen to have an ex-wife who’s a prosecutor and who was very distressed by that attack on me.
    “I figure she’ll sail this one through the grand jury in a single morning and you, asshole, will go down for aggravated assault with GBH. That means ‘with great bodily harm.’ It’s called a charging enhancement. It will get you an extra three years on the sentence. And as the victim I’m going to insist on that. That’s for my twisted nut. I’d say that all told with gain time you’re looking at four years inside, Herb. And there’s one thing you should know. They don’t let you wear no fucking peace sign in Soledad.”
    Dahl put his elbows on the table and leaned forward. For the first time I could see desperation enter his eyes.
    “You don’t know what the fuck you’re doing. You don’t know who you’re dealing with.”
    “Listen, asshole—can I call you asshole?—I don’t give a rat’s ass who I’m dealing with. I’m looking at you and I want you away from me and this case and—”
    “No, no, you don’t get it. I can help you. You think you know what’s going on in this case? You don’t know shit. But I can school you, Haller. I can help you reach the beach and we can all get tan.”
    I leaned back away from him, my arm up on the booth’s padded backrest. Now I was puzzled. I flicked a wrist like this was a complete waste of time.
    “So school me.”
    “You think I just showed up on her picket line and said, ‘Let’s make a movie’? You dumb fuck! I was sent there. Before Bondurant was even put down, I was getting close to Lisa. You think that was happenstance?”
    “Sent by who?”
    “Who do you think?”
    I stared at him and felt the coalescing of all aspects of the case, like streams to the river. The hypothesis of innocence was not a hypothesis. The setup was real.
    “Opparizio.”
    He made one slight nod in confirmation. And at that moment I saw Lisa come through the back hallway, heading toward us, her eyes shiny and bright again for court. I looked back at Dahl. I wanted to ask many questions but we were out of time.
    “Seven o’clock tonight. Be at my office. Alone. You tell me about Opparizio then. You tell me about everything… or I go to the DA.”
    “The one thing is I’ll never testify to anything. Never.”
    “Seven o’clock.”
    “I’m supposed to have dinner with Lisa.”
    “Yeah, well, change of plans. Think of something.