The Brass Verdict

able to cluster the impacts.
    Additionally, Cisco said, the slugs never left the body and were recovered during the autopsy conducted late the day before.
    “They were twenty-fives,” he said.
    I had handled countless cross-examinations of tool marks and ballistics experts. I knew my bullets and I knew a.25 caliber round came out of a small weapon but could do great damage, especially if fired into the cranial vault. The slugs would ricochet around inside. It would be like putting the victim’s brain in a blender.
    “They know the exact weapon yet?”
    I knew that by studying the markings – lands and grooves – on the slugs they would be able to tell what kind of gun fired the rounds. Just as with the Malibu murders, in which the investigators knew what gun had been used, even though they didn’t have it.
    “Yeah. A twenty-five caliber Beretta Bobcat. Nice and small, you could almost hide it in your hand.”
    A completely different weapon than the one used to kill Mitzi Elliot and Johan Rilz.
    “So what’s all of this tell us?”
    “It’s a hitter’s gun. You take it when you know it’s going to be a head shot.”
    I nodded my agreement.
    “So this was planned. The killer knew just what he was going to do. He waits in the garage, sees Jerry come out and comes right up to the car. The window goes down or it was already down, and the guy pops Jerry twice in the head, then reaches in for the briefcase that has the laptop, the cell phone, the portfolio and, we think, the Eli Wyms file.”
    “Exactly.”
    “Okay, what about the suspect?”
    “The guy they sweated the first night?”
    “No, that was Carlin. They cut him loose.”
    Cisco looked surprised.
    “How’d you find out it was Carlin?”
    “Bosch told me this morning.”
    “Are you saying they have another suspect?”
    I nodded.
    “He showed me a photo of a guy coming out of the building at the time of the shooting. He had a gun and was wearing an obvious disguise.”
    I saw Cisco’s eyes flare. It was a point of professional pride that he provide me with information like that. He didn’t like it happening the other way around.
    “He didn’t have a name, just the photo,” I said. “He wanted to know if I had ever seen the guy before or if it was one of the clients.”
    Cisco’s eyes darkened as he realized that his inside source was holding out on him. If I’d told him about the FBI calls, he probably would have picked the table up and thrown it through the window.
    “I’ll see what I can find out,” he said quietly through a tight jaw.
    I looked at Lorna.
    “Bosch said he was coming back later to show the photo to Wren.”
    “I’ll tell her.”
    “Make sure you look at it, too. I want everybody to be on alert for this guy.”
    “Okay, Mickey.”
    I nodded. We were finished. I put a credit card on the tab and pulled out my cell phone to call Patrick. Calling my driver reminded me of something.
    “Cisco, there’s one other thing I want you to try to do today.”
    Cisco looked at me, happy to move on from the idea that I had a better source on the investigation than he did.
    “Go to Vincent’s liquidator and see if he’s sitting on one of Patrick’s surfboards. If he is, I want it back for Patrick.”
    Cisco nodded.
    “I can do that. No problem.”

Twenty-four
    Waylaid by the slow-moving elevators in the CCB, I was four minutes late when I walked into Judge Holder’s courtroom and hustled through the clerk’s corral toward the hallway leading to her chambers. I didn’t see anyone and the door was closed. I knocked lightly and I heard the judge call for me to enter.
    She was behind her desk and wearing her black robe. This told me she probably had a hearing in open court scheduled soon and my being late was not a good thing.
    “Mr. Haller, our meeting was set for ten o’clock. I believe you were given proper notice of this.”
    “Yes, Your Honor, I know. I’m sorry. The elevators in this building are-”
    “All lawyers take the same elevators and most seem to be on time for meetings with me.”
    “Yes, Your Honor.”
    “Did you bring your checkbook?”
    “I think so, yes.”
    “Well, we can do this one of two ways,” the judge said. “I can hold you in contempt of court, fine you and let you explain yourself to the California bar, or we can go informal and you take out your checkbook and make a donation to the Make-A-Wish Foundation. It’s one of my favorite charities. They do good things for sick