The Lincoln Lawyer

up were at least five years old and looked ten. I imagined that it could lead to some disappointment when her clients opened their hotel room doors.
    “How much did he have?”
    “I don’t know. I just knew he had to have more because if it was all he had left, he wouldn’t have given it to me.”
    It was a good point. The glimmer was getting brighter.
    “Did you screen him?”
    “’Course.”
    “What, his driver’s license?”
    “No, his passport. He said he didn’t have a license.”
    “What was his name?”
    “Hector something.”
    “Come on, Gloria, Hector what? Try to re-”
    “Hector something Moya. It was three names. But I remember ‘Moya’ because I said ‘Hector give me Moya’ when he brought out the coke.”
    “Okay, that’s good.”
    “You think it’s something you can use to help me?”
    “Maybe, depending on who this guy is. If he’s a trade-up.”
    “I want to get out.”
    “Okay, listen, Gloria. I’m going to go see the prosecutor and see what she’s thinking and see what I can do for you. They’ve got you in here on twenty-five thousand dollars’ bail.”
    “What?”
    “It’s higher than usual because of the drugs. You don’t have twenty-five hundred for the bond, do you?”
    She shook her head. I could see the muscles in her face constricting. I knew what was coming.
    “Could you front it to me, Mickey? I promise I’d -”
    “I can’t do that, Gloria. That’s a rule and I could get in trouble if I broke it. You’re going to have to be in here overnight and they’ll take you over to arraignment in the morning.”
    “No,” she said, more like a moan than a word.
    “I know it’s going to be tough but you have to nut it out. And you have to be straight in the morning when you come into court or I’ll have no shot at lowering your bond and getting you out. So none of that shit they trade in here. You got that?”
    She raised her arms over her head, almost as if she was protecting herself from falling debris. She squeezed her hands into tight fists of dread. It would be a long night ahead.
    “You’ve got to get me out tomorrow.”
    “I’ll do my best.”
    I waved to the deputy in the observation booth. I was ready to go.
    “One last thing,” I said. “Do you remember what room the guy at the Travelodge was in?”
    She thought a moment before answering.
    “Yeah, it’s an easy one. Three thirty-three.”
    “Okay, thanks. I’m going to see what I can do.”
    She stayed sitting when I stood up. Soon the escort deputy came back and told me I would have to wait while she first took Gloria back to her dorm. I checked my watch. It was almost two. I hadn’t eaten and was getting a headache. I also had only two hours to get to Leslie Faire in the DA’s office to talk about Gloria and then out to Century City for the case meeting with Roulet and Dobbs.
    “Isn’t there somebody else who can take me out of here?” I said irritably. “I need to get to court.”
    “Sorry, sir, that’s how it works.”
    “Well, please hurry.”
    “I always do.”
    Fifteen minutes later I realized that my complaining to the deputy had only succeeded in her making sure she left me waiting even longer than had I just kept my mouth shut. Like a restaurant customer who gets the cold soup he sent back to the kitchen returned hot with the piquant taste of saliva in it, I should have known better.
    On the quick drive over to the Criminal Courts Building I called Raul Levin. He was back at his home office in Glendale, looking through the police reports on the Roulet investigation and arrest. I asked him to put it aside to make some calls. I wanted to see what he could find out about the man in room 333 at the Travelodge on Santa Monica. I told him I needed the information yesterday. I knew he had sources and ways of running the name Hector Moya. I just didn’t want to know who or what they were. I was only interested in what he got.
    As Earl pulled to a stop in front of the CCB, I told him that while I was inside he should take a run over to Philippe’s to get us roast beef sandwiches. I’d eat mine on my way out to Century City. I passed a twenty-dollar bill over the seat to him and got out.
    While waiting for an elevator in the always crowded lobby of the CCB, I popped a Tylenol from my briefcase and hoped it would head off the migraine I felt coming on from lack of food. It took me ten minutes to get to the ninth floor and another fifteen waiting for Leslie Faire to grant