Mickey Haller 4 - The Fifth Witness

veteran.
    “Well, there were a couple things that gave us a sense of urgency in regard to Ms. Trammel. First of all, her dispute with the bank was over the foreclosure of her property. That put her dispute specifically in the home loan division. The victim, Mr. Bondurant, was a senior vice president directly in charge of the home loan division. So we were looking at that connection. Additionally, and more importantly—”
    “Let me interrupt you there, Detective. You called that a connection. Did you know if the victim and Lisa Trammel knew each other?”
    “Not at that point, no. What we knew was that Ms. Trammel had a history of protesting the foreclosure of her home and that the foreclosure action was initiated by Mr. Bondurant, the victim. But we did not know at that time whether these two people knew each other or had ever even met.”
    It was a smooth move, bringing out the deficiencies in her case to the jury before I did. It made it harder for the defense to make its case.
    “Okay, Detective,” Freeman said. “I interrupted you when you were going to tell us a second reason for having some urgency in regard to Ms. Trammel.”
    “What I wanted to explain is that a murder investigation is a fluid situation. You must move carefully and cautiously, but at the same time you must go where the case takes you. If you don’t, then evidence could be at risk—and possibly other victims. We felt there was a need to make contact with Lisa Trammel at this point in the investigation. We couldn’t wait. We could not give her time to destroy evidence or harm other persons. We had to move.”
    I checked the jury. Kurlen was giving one of his best performances ever. He held every eye in the jury box. If Clegg McReynolds ever made a movie, maybe Kurlen should play himself.
    “So what did you do, Detective?”
    “We ran a check on Lisa Trammel’s driver’s license, got her address in Woodland Hills and proceeded to her home.”
    “Who was left at the crime scene?”
    “Several people. Our coordinator and all the SID techs and the coroner’s people. They still had a lot to do and we were waiting on them anyway. Going to Lisa Trammel’s house in no way compromised the scene or the investigation.”
    “Your coordinator? Who’s that?”
    “The detective-three in charge of the homicide unit. Jack Newsome. He was the supervisor on scene.”
    “I see. So what happened when you got to Ms. Trammel’s home? Was she there?”
    “Yes, she was. We knocked and she answered.”
    “Can you take us through what happened next?”
    “We identified ourselves and said we were conducting an investigation of a crime. Didn’t say what it was, just said it was serious. We asked if we could come inside to ask her a few questions. She said yes, so we entered.”
    I felt a vibration in my pocket and knew I had received a text on my cell phone. I slipped it out of my pocket and held it down below the table so the judge would not see it. The message was from Cisco.
    Need to talk, show you something.
    I texted back and we had a quick digital conversation:
    You verify the letter?No, something else. Still working the letter.Then after court. Get me the letter.
    I put the phone away and went back to watching Freeman’s direct examination. The letter in question had come in the afternoon before in the mail to my P.O. box. It came anonymously but if its contents could be confirmed by Cisco I would have a new weapon. A powerful weapon.
    “What was Ms. Trammel’s demeanor when you met her?” Freeman asked.
    “She seemed pretty calm to me,” Kurlen said. “She didn’t seem particularly curious about why we wanted to talk to her or what the crime was. She was nonchalant about the whole thing.”
    “Where did you and your partner speak to her?”
    “She walked us into the kitchen where there was a table and she invited us to sit down. She asked if we wanted water or coffee and we both said no.”
    “And you started asking her questions then?”
    “Yes, we started by asking if she had been in the house all morning. She said she had been except for when she drove her son to school in Sherman Oaks at eight. I asked if she had made any other stops on the way home and she said no.”
    “And what did that mean to you?”
    “Well, that somebody was lying. We had the witness who put her near the bank at close to nine. So somebody was wrong or somebody was lying.”
    “What did you do at that point?”
    “I asked if she would be