The Lincoln Lawyer

Dobbs saying, “Mary, everything is under control. We need now to concentrate on getting him out. We are going to need some money…”
    While the elevator made its way up to me, I was thinking that I was pretty sure that I was dealing with a client and family for which “some money” meant more than I had ever seen. My mind moved back to the sartorial comment Dobbs had made about me. It still stung. The truth was, I didn’t have a suit in my closet that cost less than six hundred dollars and I always felt good and confident in any one of them. I wondered if he had intended to insult me or he had intended something else, maybe trying at this early stage of the game to imprint his control over me and the case. I decided I would need to watch my back with Dobbs. I would keep him close but not that close.

SIX
    T raffic heading downtown bottlenecked in the Cahuenga Pass. I spent the time in the car working the phone and trying not to think about the conversation I’d had with Maggie McPherson about my parenting skills. My ex-wife had been right about me, and that’s what hurt. For a long time I had put my law practice ahead of my parenting practice. It was something I promised myself to change. I just needed the time and the money to slow down. I thought that maybe Louis Roulet would provide both.
    In the back of the Lincoln I first called Raul Levin, my investigator, to put him on alert about the potential meeting with Roulet. I asked him to do a preliminary run on the case to see what he could find out. Levin had retired early from the LAPD and still had contacts and friends who did him favors from time to time. He probably had his own Christmas list. I told him not to spend a lot of time on it until I was sure I had Roulet locked down as a paying client. It didn’t matter what C. C. Dobbs had said to me face-to-face in the courthouse hallway. I wouldn’t believe I had the case until I got the first payment.
    Next I checked on the status of a few cases and then called Lorna Taylor again. I knew the mail was delivered at her place most days right before noon. But she told me nothing of importance had come in. No checks and no correspondence I had to pay immediate attention to from the courts.
    “Did you check on Gloria Dayton’s arraignment?” I asked her.
    “Yes. It looks like they might hold her over until tomorrow on a medical.”
    I groaned. The state has forty-eight hours to charge an individual after arrest and bring them before a judge. Holding Gloria Dayton’s first appearance over until the next day because of medical reasons meant that she was probably drug sick. This would help explain why she had been holding cocaine when she was arrested. I had not seen or spoken to her in at least seven months. Her slide must have been quick and steep. The thin line between controlling the drugs and the drugs controlling her had been crossed.
    “Did you find out who filed it?” I asked.
    “Leslie Faire,” she said.
    I groaned again.
    “That’s just great. Okay, well, I’m going to go down and see what I can do. I’ve got nothing going until I hear about Roulet.”
    Leslie Faire was a misnamed prosecutor whose idea of giving a defendant a break or the benefit of the doubt was to offer extended parole supervision on top of prison time.
    “Mick, when are you going to learn with this woman?” Lorna said about Gloria Dayton.
    “Learn what?” I asked, although I knew exactly what Lorna would say.
    “She drags you down every time you have to deal with her. She’s never going to get out of the life, and now you can bet she’s never going to be anything less than a twofer every time she calls. That would be fine, except you never charge her.”
    What she meant by
twofer
was that Gloria Dayton’s cases would from now on be more complicated and time-consuming because it was likely that drug charges would always accompany solicitation or prostitution charges. What bothered Lorna was that this meant more work for me but no more income in the process.
    “Well, the bar requires that all lawyers practice some pro bono work, Lorna. You know -”
    “You don’t listen to me, Mick,” she said dismissively. “That’s exactly why we couldn’t stay married.”
    I closed my eyes. What a day. I had managed to get both my ex-wives angry with me.
    “What does this woman have on you?” she asked. “Why don’t you charge even a basic fee with her?”
    “Look, she doesn’t have anything on me, okay?” I said.