Page 89 of The Lincoln Lawyer

I closed the phone, wondering if there was something Valenzuela didn’t know. If Roulet had somehow found a way to take the ankle bracelet off or to subvert the tracking system. I was convinced by the science of it but not the human side of it. There are always human flaws.

The bartender sauntered over to my spot at the bar.

“Hey, buddy, did you lose your car keys?” he said.

I looked around to make sure he was talking to me and then shook my head.

“No,” I said.

“Are you sure? Somebody found keys in the parking lot. You better check.”

I reached into the pocket of my suit jacket, then brought my hand out and extended it, palm up. My key ring was displayed on my hand.

“See, I tol—”

In a quick and unexpected move, the bartender grabbed the keys off my hand and smiled.

“Falling for that should be a sobriety test in and of itself,” he said. “Anyway, pal, you’re not driving—not for a while. When you’re ready to go, I’ll call you a taxi.”

He stepped back from the bar in case I had a violent objection to the ruse. But I just nodded.

“You got me,” I said.

He tossed my keys onto the back counter, where the bottles were lined up. I looked at my watch. It wasn’t even five o’clock. Embarrassment burned through the alcohol padding. I had taken the easy way out. The coward’s way, getting drunk in the face of a terrible occurrence.

“You can take it,” I said, pointing to my glass of Guinness.

I picked up the phone and punched in a speed-dial number. Maggie McPherson answered right away. The courts usually closed by four-thirty. The prosecutors were usually at their desks in that last hour or two before the end of the day.

“Hey, is it quitting time yet?”

“Haller?”

“Yeah.”

“What’s going on? Are you drinking? Your voice is different.”

“I think I might need you to drivemehome this time.”

“Where are you?”

“For Greedy Fucks.”

“What?”

“Four Green Fields. I’ve been here awhile.”

“Michael, what is—”

“Raul Levin is dead.”

“Oh my God, what—”

“Murdered. So this time can you drivemehome? I’ve had too much.”

“Let me call Stacey and get her to stay late with Hayley, then I’ll be on my way. Do not try to leave there, okay? Just don’t leave.”

“Don’t worry, the bartender isn’t gonna let me.”