Mickey Haller 4 - The Fifth Witness

further questions.”
    I sat down and put the photo boards on the floor under the table. They had served me well. I took the hit from the judge but it was worth it. It’s always worth it if you make your point.

Twenty-three
    Lisa Trammel was ecstatic about my cross-examination of Margo Schafer. Even Herb Dahl couldn’t hold back from congratulating me as the trial was recessed for lunch. I counseled them not to get overly excited. It was early in the trial and eyewitnesses like Schafer were usually the easiest to handle and damage on the stand. There were still tough witnesses and tougher days ahead. They could count on that.
    “I don’t care,” Lisa said. “You were marvelous and that lying bitch got just what she deserved.”
    The invective was dripping with hate and it made me pause for a moment before responding.
    “The prosecutor is still going to have a chance to rehabilitate her on redirect after lunch.”
    “And then you can destroy her again on re-cross.”
    “Well… I don’t know about destroying anybody. That’s not what—”
    “Can you join us for lunch, Mickey?”
    She punctuated the request by swinging her arm around Dahl, clearly showing what I had been assuming, that they were together in more than just business.
    “There is nothing good around here,” she continued. “We’re going down to Ventura Boulevard to find a place. We might even try Danny’s Deli.”
    “Thank you but no. I need to get back to the office and meet with my crew. They’re not here because they can’t be. They’re working and I need to check in.”
    Lisa gave me a look that told me she didn’t believe me. It didn’t much matter to me. I represented her in court. It didn’t mean I had to eat with her and the man I was still sure was scheming to rip her off, no matter the romantic entanglement—if it even was romantic. I headed out on my own and walked back to my office in the Victory Building.
    Lorna had already gone to the competing and far better Jerry’s Famous Deli in Studio City and picked up turkey and coleslaw sandwiches. I ate at my desk while telling Cisco and Bullocks what had happened that morning in court. Despite my reserve with my client, I felt pretty good about my cross with Schafer. I thanked Bullocks for the display board, which I believed had impressed the jury. Nothing like a visual aid to help throw doubt on a supposed eyewitness.
    When I finished recounting the trial testimony I asked them what they had been working on. Cisco said he was still reviewing the police investigation, looking for errors and assumptions made by the detectives that could be turned against Kurlen during cross-examination.
    “Good, I need all the ammo I can get,” I said. “Bullocks, anything from your end?”
    “I pretty much spent the morning with the foreclosure file. I want to be bulletproof when it’s my turn.”
    “Okay, good, but you’ve got some time there. My guess is the defense won’t start until next week. Freeman looks like she’s trying to keep a certain rhythm and momentum going, but she’s got a lot of witnesses on her list and it doesn’t look like a lot of smoke.”
    Often prosecutors and defense attorneys pad their witness lists to keep the other side guessing as to who would actually get called and who was important in terms of testimony. It didn’t appear to me that Freeman had engaged in this sort of subterfuge. Her list was lean and every name on it had something to bring to the case.
    I dipped my sandwich into some Thousand Island dressing that had dripped onto the paper wrapper. Aronson pointed to one of the display boards I had brought back with me from court. It was the ground-level shot I had tried to fool Margo Schafer with.
    “Wasn’t that risky? What if Freeman hadn’t objected?”
    “I knew she would. And if she didn’t the judge would have. They don’t like you trying to trick witnesses like that.”
    “Yeah, but then the jury knows you’re lying.”
    “I wasn’t lying. I asked the witness a question. Could she point out where Lisa was in the photo? I didn’t say Lisa was in the photo. If she had been given the opportunity to answer, the answer would have been no. That’s all.”
    Aronson frowned.
    “Remember what I said, Bullocks. Don’t grow a conscience. We’re playing hardball here. I played Freeman and she’s trying to play me. Maybe she already has played me in some way and I don’t even know it. I took a risk and got a little hand-slap from