Page 11 of The Lincoln Lawyer

“Don’t tell me,” she said.

“Sorry. He liked what I did on Hendricks and gave me a call.”

“Son of a bitch. I wanted this case, Haller. This is the second time you’ve done this to me.”

“I guess this town ain’t big enough for the both of us,” I said in a poor Cagney imitation.

She groaned.

“All right,” she said in quick surrender. “I’ll go peacefully after this hearing. Unless you object to even that.”

“I might. You going for a no-bail hold?”

“That’s right. But that won’t change with the prosecutor. That was a directive from the second floor.”

I nodded. That meant a case supervisor must have called for the no-bail hold.

“He’s connected in the community. And has never been arrested.”

I studied her reaction, not having had the time to make sure Roulet’s denial of ever being previously arrested was the truth. It’s always amazing how many clients lie about previous engagements with the machine, when it is a lie that has no hope of going the distance.

But Maggie gave no indication that she knew otherwise. Maybe it was true. Maybe I had an honest-to-goodness first-time offender for a client.

“It doesn’t matter whether he’s done anything before,” Maggie said. “What matters is what he did last night.”

She opened the file and quickly checked through the photos until she saw the one she liked and snatched it out.

“Here’s what your pillar of the community did last night. So I don’t really care what he did before. I’m just going to make sure he doesn’t get out to do this again.”

The photo was an 8 × 10 close-up of a woman’s face. The swelling around the right eye was so extensive that the eye was completely and tightly closed. The nose was broken and pushed off center. Blood-soaked gauze protruded from each nostril. There was a deep gash over the right eyebrow that had been closed with nine butterfly stitches. The lower lip was cut and had a marble-size swelling as well. The worst thing about the photo was the eye that was undamaged. The woman looked at the camera with fear, pain and humiliation undeniably expressed in that one tearful eye.

“If he did it,” I said, because that is what I would be expected to say.

“Right,” Maggie said. “Sure, if he did it. He was only arrested in her home with her blood on him, but you’re right, that’s a valid question.”

“I like it when you’re sarcastic. Do you have the arrest report there? I’d like to get a copy of it.”

“You can get it from whoever takes the case over from me. No favors, Haller. Not this time.”

I waited, expecting more banter, more indignation, maybe another shot across the bow, but that was all she said. I decided that getting more out of her on the case was a lost cause. I changed the subject.

“So,” I said. “How is she?”

“She’s scared shitless and hurting like hell. How else would she be?”

She looked up at me and I saw the immediate recognition and then judgment in her eyes.

“You weren’t even asking about the victim, were you?”

I didn’t answer. I didn’t want to lie to her.

“Your daughter is doing fine,” she said perfunctorily. “She likes the things you send her but she would ratheryoushow up a little more often.”

That wasn’t a shot across the bow. That was a direct hit and it was deserved. It seemed as though I was always chasing cases, even on weekends. Deep down inside I knew I needed to start chasing my daughter around the backyard more often. The time to do it was going by.

“I will,” I said. “Starting right now. What about this weekend?”

“Fine. You want me to tell her tonight?”