Mickey Haller 4 - The Fifth Witness

soon realized I had chosen the wrong way. Venice. I should’ve turned south.
    Not being a fan of cold or reheated pizza I pulled off to eat at the Daily Grill at Laurel and Ventura. I parked in the underground garage and was halfway to the escalator when I realized I had the Woodsman tucked into the back of my pants. Not good. I returned to the car and put it under the seat, then double-checked to make sure the car was locked.
    It was early but nonetheless crowded in the restaurant. I sat at the bar rather than wait for a table and ordered an iced tea and a chicken pot pie. I then opened my phone and called my client. She answered right away.
    “Lisa, it’s your attorney. Did you send your husband over to speak to me?”
    “Well, I told him he should see you, yes.”
    “And was that your idea or Herb Dahl’s?”
    “No, mine. I mean Herb was here but it was my idea. Did you talk to him?”
    “I did.”
    “Did he lead you to the hammer?”
    “No, he didn’t. He wanted ten thousand dollars to do that.”
    There was a pause but I waited.
    “Mickey, it doesn’t seem like a lot to ask for something that will destroy the state’s evidence.”
    “You don’t pay for evidence, Lisa. If you do, you lose. Where is your husband staying these days?”
    “He wouldn’t tell me.”
    “Did you talk to him in person?”
    “Yes, he came here. He looked like something the cat dragged in.”
    “I need to find him so I can subpoena him. Do you have any—”
    “He won’t testify. He told me. No matter what. He just wants money and to see me in pain. He doesn’t even care about his own son. He didn’t even ask to see him when he came by.”
    My meal was placed down in front of me and the bartender topped off my tea. I sliced into the top crust with my fork, just to let some of the steam out. It would be a good ten minutes before the dish would be cool enough to eat.
    “Lisa, listen to me, this is important. Do you have any idea where he could be living or staying?”
    “No. He said he came up from Mexico.”
    “That’s a lie. He’s been here all the time.”
    She seemed taken aback.
    “How do you know that?”
    “Phone records. Look, it doesn’t matter. If he calls you or comes by, find out where he is staying. Promise him there’s money coming or whatever you need to do but get me a location. If we can get him into court he’ll have to tell us about the hammer.”
    “I’ll try.”
    “Don’t try, Lisa. Do it. This is your life we’re talking about here.”
    “Okay, okay.”
    “Now did he drop any hint about the hammer at all when he spoke to you?”
    “Not really. He just said, ‘Remember how I used to keep the hammer in my car when I was on repo duty?’ When he was at the dealership he had to repossess cars sometimes. They took turns. I think he kept the hammer for protection or in case they had to break into a car or something.”
    “So he was saying the original hammer from your garage tool set was kept in his car?”
    “I guess so. The Beemer. But that car was taken away after he abandoned it and disappeared.”
    I nodded. I could put Cisco on it, have him try to confirm the story by seeing if a hammer was found in the trunk of the BMW left behind by Jeff Trammel.
    “Okay, Lisa, who are Jeff’s friends? Up here in the city.”
    “I don’t know. He had friends at the dealership but nobody that he brought around. We didn’t really have friends.”
    “Do you have any names of those people from the dealership?”
    “Not really.”
    “Lisa, you’re not helping me here.”
    “I’m sorry. I can’t think. I didn’t like his friends. I told him to keep them away.”
    I shook my head and then thought of myself. Who were my friends outside of work? Could Maggie answer these same questions about me?
    “All right, Lisa, enough of this for now. I want you thinking about tomorrow. Remember what we talked about. How you act and react in front of the jury. A lot will ride on it.”
    “I know. I’m ready.”
    Good, I thought. I wish I was.

Twenty-one
    Judge Perry wanted to make up for some of the court time lost the Friday before, so on Monday morning he arbitrarily limited opening statements to the jury to thirty minutes apiece. This ruling came even though both the prosecution and the defense had ostensibly been laboring through the weekend on statements previously scheduled to be an hour long. The truth was, the edict was fine by me. I doubted I would even take ten minutes. The more you