The Brass Verdict

somebody was supposed to bring it in to him this afternoon. I could go back and get it if you want.”
    “No, just get me an address and I’ll have Patrick pick it up. What happened with Bruce Carlin? Didn’t you debrief him today? Maybe he’s got the Muniz tape.”
    I was anxious to hear about Bruce Carlin on several levels. Most important, I wanted to know if he had worked for Vincent on the Eli Wyms case. If so, he might be able to lead me to the magic bullet.
    But Cisco didn’t answer my question. Lorna turned and they looked at each other as if wondering which one of them should deliver the bad news.
    “What’s wrong?” I asked.
    Lorna turned back to me.
    “Carlin’s fucking with us,” she said.
    I could see the angry set of her jaw. And I knew she reserved that kind of language for special occasions. Something had gone wrong with Carlin’s debriefing and she was particularly upset.
    “How so?”
    “Well, he never showed up at two like he said he would. Instead, he called at two – right after Wren called and quit – and gave us the new parameters of his deal.”
    I shook my head in annoyance.
    “His deal? How much does he want?”
    “Well, I guess he realized that at two hundred dollars an hour he wouldn’t make much, since he was probably going to bill only two or three hours tops. That’s all Cisco would need with him. So he called up and said he wanted a flat fee or we could figure out things on our own.”
    “Like I said, how much?”
    “Ten thousand dollars.”
    “You gotta be fucking kidding me.”
    “My words exactly.”
    I looked from her to Cisco.
    “This is extortion. Isn’t there a state agency that regulates you guys? Can’t we come down on his shit somehow?”
    Cisco shook his head.
    “There are all kinds of regulatory agencies but this is a shady area.”
    “Yeah, I know it’s shady. He’s shady. I’ve thought that for years.”
    “What I mean is, he had no deal with Vincent. We can’t find any contract. So he’s not required to give us anything. We simply need to hire him and he’s setting his price at ten grand. It’s a bullshit rip-off but it’s probably legal. I mean, you’re the lawyer. You tell me.”
    I thought about it for a few moments and then tried to push it aside. I was still riding on the adrenaline charge I’d picked up in the courthouse. I didn’t want it to dissipate with distractions.
    “All right, I’ll ask Elliot if he wants to pay it. Meantime, I’m going to hit all the files again tonight, and if I get lucky and crack through, then we won’t need him. We say fuck you and are done with him.”
    “Asshole,” Lorna muttered.
    I was pretty sure that was directed at Bruce Carlin and not me.
    “Okay, is that it?” I asked. “Anything else?”
    I looked from one face to the other. Nobody had anything else to bring up.
    “Okay, then, thank you both for all you’ve been putting up with and doing this week. Go out and have a good night.”
    Lorna looked at me curiously.
    “You’re sending us home?” she asked.
    I checked my watch.
    “Why not?” I said. “It’s almost four thirty and I’m going to dive into the files and I don’t want any distractions. You two go on home, have a good night and we’ll start again tomorrow.”
    “You’re going to work here alone tonight?” Cisco asked.
    “Yeah, but don’t worry. I’ll lock the door and I won’t let anybody in – even if I know him.”
    I smiled. Lorna and Cisco didn’t. I pointed to the open door to the office. It had a slide bolt that could be used to lock it at the top of the doorframe. If necessary I would be able to secure both outside and inside perimeters. It gave new meaning to the idea of going into lockdown.
    “Come on, I’ll be fine. I’ve got work to do.”
    They slowly, reluctantly, started to make their way out of my office.
    “Lorna,” I called after them. “Patrick should be out there. Tell him to keep hanging. I might have something to tell him after I make that call.”

Twenty-nine
    I opened the Patrick Henson file on my desk and looked up the prosecutor’s number. I wanted to get this out of the way before I went to work on the Elliot case.
    The prosecutor was Dwight Posey, a guy I had dealt with before on cases and never liked. Some prosecutors deal with defense attorneys as though they are only one step removed from their clients. As pseudocriminals, not as educated and experienced professionals. Not as necessary cogs in the winding gears of