The Lincoln Lawyer

and you’re going to have to weed ’em out and find the ones who have family and can pay.”
    “You always have an angle, don’t you?”
    “I try to. Anything else happening?”
    “Just the usual. The calls you told me you didn’t want to hear about. Did you get in to see Glory Days yesterday at County?”
    “It’s Gloria Dayton and, yes, I got in to see her. She looks like she’s over the hump. She’s still got more than a month to go.”
    The truth was, Gloria Dayton looked better than over the hump. I hadn’t seen her so sharp and bright-eyed in years. I’d had a purpose for going down to County-USC Medical Center to talk to her, but seeing her on the downhill side of recovery was a nice bonus.
    As expected, Lorna was the doomsayer.
    “And how long will it last this time before she calls your number again and says, ‘I’m in jail. I need Mickey’?”
    She said the last part with a whiny, nasal impression of Gloria Dayton. It was quite accurate but it annoyed me anyway. Then she topped it with a little song to the tune of the Disney classic.
    “M-I-C…, see you real soon. K-E-Y…, why, because you never charge me! M-O-U-T-H. Mickey Mouth… Mickey Mouth, the lawyer every -”
    “Please don’t sing to me, Lorna.”
    She laughed into the phone.
    “I’m just making a point.”
    I was smiling but trying to keep it out of my voice.
    “Fine. I get it. I have to get going now.”
    “Well, have a great time… Mickey Mouth.”
    “You could sing that song all day and the Dodgers could lose twenty-zip to the Giants and I’d still have a great time. After hearing the news from you, what could go wrong?”
    After ending the call I went into my home office and got a cell number for Teddy Vogel, the outside leader of the Saints. I gave him the good news and suggested that he could probably pass it on to Hard Case faster than I could. There are Road Saints in every prison. They have a communication system the CIA and FBI might be able to learn something from. Vogel said he’d handle it. Then he said the ten grand he gave me the month before on the side of the road near Vasquez Rocks was a worthy investment.
    “I appreciate that, Ted,” I said. “Keep me in mind next time you need an attorney.”
    “Will do, Counselor.”
    He clicked off and I clicked off. I then grabbed my first baseman’s glove out of the hallway closet and headed out the front door.
    Having given Earl the day off with pay, I drove myself toward downtown and Dodger Stadium. Traffic was light until I got close. The home opener is always a sell-out, even though it is a day game on a weekday. The start of baseball season is a rite of spring that draws downtown workers by the thousands. It’s the only sporting event in laid-back L.A. where you see men all in stiff white shirts and ties. They’re all playing hooky. There is nothing like the start of a season, before all the one-run losses, pitching breakdowns and missed opportunities. Before reality sets in.
    I was the first one to the seats. We were three rows from the field in seats added to the stadium during the off-season. Levin must have busted a nut buying the tickets from one of the local brokers. At least it was probably deductible as a business entertainment expense.
    The plan was for Levin to get there early as well. He had called the night before and said he wanted some private time with me. Besides watching batting practice and checking out all the improvements the new owner had made to the stadium, we would discuss my visit with Gloria Dayton and Raul would give me the latest update on his various investigations relating to Louis Roulet.
    But Levin never made it for BP. The other four lawyers showed up-three of them in ties, having come from court-and we missed our chance to talk privately.
    I knew the other four from some of the boat cases we had tried together. In fact, the tradition of defense pros taking in Dodgers games together started with the boat cases. Under a wide-ranging mandate to stop drug flow to the United States, the U.S. Coast Guard had taken to stopping suspect vessels anywhere on the oceans. When they struck gold-or, that is, cocaine-they seized the vessels and crews. Many of the prosecutions were funneled to the U.S. District Court in Los Angeles. This resulted in prosecutions of sometimes twelve or more defendants at a time. Every defendant got his own lawyer, most of them appointed by the court and paid by Uncle Sugar. The cases were lucrative