Mickey Haller 4 - The Fifth Witness

doing things this way. We have to go forward or be done.”
    She put her hand on my chest and pushed me back. I was afraid of what my life would be like with her completely gone from it. I regretted the ultimatum I had just set out because I knew that if forced to make a choice she would pick the latter.
    “What do you say we just worry about tonight, Haller?”
    “Okay,” I said so quickly that we both started laughing.
    I had dodged a bullet I had fired at myself. For now.
    “I still have to get some work done at some point.”
    “Yeah, we’ll see about that.”
    She reached to the bar for her drink but took mine by mistake. Or maybe not by mistake. She sipped and then screwed up her face in disgust.
    “That tastes just awful without vodka. What’s the point?”
    “I know. Was that some sort of test?”
    “No, just a mistake.”
    “Sure.”
    She drank from her own glass now. I turned slightly and looked back at Cisco and Aronson. They were leaning toward each other, engaged in a conversation and ignoring me. I turned back to Maggie.
    “Marry me again, Maggie. I’m going to change everything after this case.”
    “I’ve heard that before. The second part.”
    “Yeah, but this time it’s going to happen. It already is.”
    “Do I have to answer right now? Is it a one-time thing or can I think about it?”
    “Sure, take a few minutes. I’m going to hit the head and then I’ll be back.”
    We laughed again and then I leaned forward and kissed her and held my face in her hair. I whispered again.
    “I can’t think of being with anybody else.”
    She turned in to me and kissed my neck, then pulled back.
    “I hate public displays of affection, especially in bars. Seems so cheap.”
    “Sorry.”
    “Let’s go now.”
    She slid off the stool. And took a last sip of her drink while standing. I pulled my cash and peeled off enough to cover everybody, including the bartender. I told Cisco and Aronson I was going.
    “I thought we were still talking about Opparizio,” Aronson protested.
    I saw Cisco surreptitiously touch her arm in a not now signal. I appreciated that.
    “You know what?” I said. “It’s been a long day. Sometimes not thinking about something is the best way to prepare for it. I’ll be in the office early tomorrow before going to court. If you want to come by. Otherwise, I’ll see you in court at nine.”
    We said our goodbyes and I walked out with my ex-wife.
    “You want to leave a car here or what?” I asked.
    “No, too dangerous to come back here after dinner and being in bed with you. I’ll want to go in for one last drink and then it might not be the last. I have the sitter to relieve and work tomorrow, too.”
    “Is that how you view it? Just dinner and sex and getting home by midnight?”
    She could’ve really hurt me then, said I was whining like a woman complaining about men. But she didn’t.
    “No,” she said. “I actually view it as the best night of the week.”
    I raised my hand and clasped the back of her neck as we walked to our cars. She always liked that. Even if it was a public display of affection.

Forty-eight
    You could feel the tension rise with each step as Louis Opparizio made his way to the witness stand on Tuesday morning. He wore a light tan suit with a blue shirt and maroon tie. He looked dignified in a way that bespoke money and power. And it was clear that he looked at me through contemptuous eyes. He was my witness but obviously there was no love lost here. Since the start of the trial I had pointed the finger of guilt at someone other than my client. I had pointed at Opparizio and now he sat before me. This was the main event and as such it had drawn the biggest crowd—both media and onlookers—of the trial.
    I started things out cordially but wasn’t planning to continue that way. I had one goal here and the verdict was riding on whether I achieved it. I had to push the man in the witness box to the limit. He was there only because he had been cornered by his own avarice and vanity. He had ignored legal counsel, declined to hide behind the Fifth Amendment and accepted the challenge of going one-on-one with me in front of a packed house. My job was to make him regret those decisions. My job was to make him take the Fifth in front of the jury. If he did that, then Lisa Trammel would walk. There could be no stronger reasonable doubt than to have the straw man you’ve been pointing at all trial long hide behind the Fifth, to refuse to