Page 87 of The Lincoln Lawyer

That answer squeezed at least two of the vodkas right out of my liver. I straightened up on my stool.

“Sobel? Is that who called?”

“Yeah, I think so. She said she got my name from you. She said it would be routine questions. She’s coming here.”

“Where?”

“The office.”

I thought about it for a moment but didn’t think Sobel was in any kind of danger, even if she came without Lankford. Roulet wouldn’t try anything with a cop, especially in his own office. My greater concern was that somehow Sobel and Lankford were already onto Roulet and I would be robbed of my chance to personally avenge Raul Levin and Jesus Menendez. Had Roulet left a fingerprint behind? Had a neighbor seen him go into Levin’s house?

“That’s all she said?”

“Yes. She said they were talking to all of his recent clients and I was the most recent.”

“Don’t talk to them.”

“You sure?”

“Not without your lawyer present.”

“Won’t they get suspicious if I don’t talk to them, like give them an alibi or something?”

“It doesn’t matter. They don’t talk to you unless I give my permission. And I’m not giving it.”

I gripped my free hand into a fist. I couldn’t stand the idea of giving legal advice to the man I was sure had killed my friend that very morning.

“Okay,” Roulet said. “I’ll send her on her way.”

“Where were you this morning?”

“Me? I was here at the office. Why?”

“Did anybody see you?”

“Well, Robin came in at ten. Not before that.”

I pictured the woman with the hair cut like a scythe. I didn’t know what to tell Roulet because I didn’t know what the time of death was. I didn’t want to mention anything about the tracking bracelet he supposedly had on his ankle.

“Call me after Detective Sobel leaves. And remember, no matter what she or her partner says to you, do not talk to them. They can lie to you as much as they want. And they all do. Consider anything they tell you to be a lie. They’re just trying to trick you into talking to them. If they tell you I said it was okay to talk, that is a lie. Pick up the phone and call me, I will tell them to get lost.”

“All right, Mick. That’s how I’ll play it. Thanks.”

He ended the call. I closed my phone and dropped it on the bar like it was something dirty and discarded.

“Yeah, don’t mention it,” I said.

I drained a good quarter of my pint, then picked up the phone again. Using speed dial I called Fernando Valenzuela’s cell number. He was at home, having just gotten in from the Dodgers game. That meant that he had left early to beat the traffic. Typical L.A. fan.

“Do you still have a tracking bracelet on Roulet?”

“Yeah, he’s got it.”

“How’s it work? Can you track where he’s been or only where he’s at?”

“It’s global positioning. It sends up a signal. You can track it backwards to tell where somebody’s been.”

“You got it there or is it at the office?”