The Lincoln Lawyer

long and hard laugh. Sobel stepped into the garage, having not heard the joke.
    “What?” she said.
    “I’ll tell you later,” Lankford said.

THIRTY-ONE
    I t took them a half hour to search the Lincoln and then move into the house, where they started with the office. I watched the whole time and only spoke when offering explanation about something that gave them pause in their search. They didn’t talk much to each other and it was becoming increasingly clear that there was a rift between the two partners over the direction Lankford had taken the investigation.
    At one point Lankford got a call on his cell phone and he went out the front door onto the porch to talk privately. I had the shades up and if I stood in the hallway I could look one way and see him out there and the other way and see Sobel in my office.
    “You’re not too happy about this, are you?” I said to Sobel when I was sure her partner couldn’t hear.
    “It doesn’t matter how I am. We’re following the case and that’s it.”
    “Is your partner always like that, or only with lawyers?”
    “He spent fifty thousand dollars on a lawyer last year, trying to get custody of his kids. He didn’t. Before that we lost a big case-a murder-on a legal technicality.”
    I nodded.
    “And he blamed the lawyer. But who broke the rules?”
    She didn’t respond and that as much as confirmed it had been Lankford who had made the technical misstep.
    “I get the picture,” I said.
    I checked on Lankford on the porch again. He was gesturing impatiently like he was trying to explain something to a moron. Must have been his custody lawyer. I decided to change the subject with Sobel.
    “Do you think you are being manipulated at all on this case?”
    “What are you talking about?”
    “The photos stashed in the bureau, the bullet casing in the floor vent. Pretty convenient, don’t you think?”
    “What are you saying?”
    “I’m not saying anything. I’m asking questions your partner doesn’t seem interested in.”
    I checked on Lankford. He was tapping in numbers on his cell, making a new call. I turned and stepped into the open doorway of the office. Sobel was looking behind the files in a drawer. Finding no gun, she closed the drawer and stepped over to the desk. I spoke in a low voice.
    “What about Raul’s message to me?” I said. “About finding Jesus Menendez’s ticket out, what do you think he meant?”
    “We haven’t figured that out yet.”
    “Too bad. I think it’s important.”
    “Everything’s important until it isn’t.”
    I nodded, not sure what she meant by that.
    “You know, the case I’m trying is pretty interesting. You ought to come back by and watch. You might learn something.”
    She looked from the desk to me. Our eyes held for a moment. Then she squinted with suspicion, like she was trying to judge whether a supposed murder suspect was actually coming on to her.
    “Are you serious?”
    “Yeah, why not?”
    “Well, for one thing, you might have trouble getting to court if you’re in lockup.”
    “Hey, no gun, no case. That’s why you’re here, right?”
    She didn’t answer.
    “Besides, this is your partner’s thing. You’re not riding with him on this. I can tell.”
    “Typical lawyer. You think you know all the angles.”
    “No, not me. I’m finding out I don’t know any of them.”
    She changed the subject.
    “Is this your daughter?”
    She pointed to the framed photograph on the desk.
    “Yeah. Hayley.”
    “Nice alliteration. Hayley Haller. Named after the comet?”
    “Sort of. Spelled differently. My ex-wife came up with it.”
    Lankford came in then, talking to Sobel loudly about the call he had gotten. It had been from a supervisor telling them that they were back in play and would handle the next Glendale homicide whether the Levin case was still active or not. He didn’t say anything about the call he had made.
    Sobel told him she had finished searching the office. No gun.
    “I’m telling you, it’s not here,” I said. “You are wasting your time. And mine. I have court tomorrow and need to prepare for witnesses.”
    “Let’s do the bedroom next,” Lankford said, ignoring my protest.
    I backed up into the hallway to give them space to come out of one room and go into the next. They walked down the sides of the bed to where twin night tables waited. Lankford opened the top drawer of his table and lifted out a CD.
    “Wreckrium for Lil’ Demon,”
he read. “You have to be