Майкл Коннелли - Law of Innocence

“That’s for sure,” Lorna said.

“Okay, so the second building block of the case is the victim,” I said. “Sam Scales, con man extraordinaire. Our story is that these two—Opparizio and Scales—intersected at BioGreen. They were bleeding the beast, operating the long con, when something went wrong. Opparizio had to take out Scales but also had to make sure the investigation came nowhere near BioGreen. So I became his fall guy. He somehow knew of my history with Scales and that it ended badly. He sticks Sam’s body in my trunk and I go down for it while BioGreen stays clean and supposedly keeps pumping out that recycled fuel the government loves so much.”

I looked at the three faces around the table.

“Questions?” I asked.

“I have a couple,” Lorna said. “First, what was the con they were pulling?”

“It’s called bleeding the beast, ” I said. “Scamming the government—the beast, that is—out of federal subsidies for producing green gold: recycled oil.”

“Whoa,” Lorna said. “Sounds like Sam really came up in the world. That’s a long way from the Internet scams he was known for.”

“Good point,” I said. “That is something that doesn’t fit with what I know about him, but I’m just telling you my theory so far. He had green gold under his fingernails. One thing we do need to find out is whether Sam went to Opparizio with the scam idea, or was Sam simply recruited into the ongoing operation?”

“Any idea what the falling-out was?” Jennifer asked. “Why was Sam killed?”

“Another hole we have to fill,” I said. “And my guess is that the FBI is at the bottom of that hole.”

“They flipped him?” Cisco half asked, half suggested.

I nodded.

“I think it’s something along those lines,” I said. “Opparizio found out and Sam had to go.”

“But the smart move would have been to just make him disappear,” Cisco said. “Why put the body anyplace where it could and would be found?”

“Right,” I said. “That goes on the list of unknowns. But I think that simply disappearing Sam might have brought in more scrutiny from the feds. Doing it the way they did would help insulate BioGreen and maybe make it look like it had nothing to do with the scam down there.”

“Not to mention Opparizio knew this was a good way to get back at you, boss,” Cisco added.

“Most of this is just theory,” Jennifer said. “What’s next? How do we turn theory into a solid defense?”

“Opparizio,” I said. “We find him, serve him, and make sure the judge enforces the subpoena.”

“That only gets him to court,” Jennifer said. “Last time you wanted him to take the Fifth, but this time you have to get him to actually testify.”

“Not necessarily,” I said. “If we have the goods on him, it’ll be about the questions we ask, not the answers. He can take the Fifth all he wants. The jury will hear the story in the questions.”

I turned my eyes to Cisco. “So, where is he?” I asked.

“We’ve been on the girlfriend, what, five days now?” Cisco said. “And no sign of him. We may need to shake things up. Throw a scare at her, create a need for her to see him.”

I shook my head.

“I think it’s too early for that,” I said. “We have some time. We don’t want to subpoena him till pretty late in the game. Otherwise, Iceberg will be onto us.”

“She is already,” Jennifer said. “She would have gotten copied on the FBI subpoena.”

“But my guess is she saw that as a shot in the dark,” I said. “A fishing expedition to see if the feds had anything. Even the judge thought that. Anyway, I don’t want to go for a subpoena yet. That will give the prosecution too much time to cover our ground. So we need to find him first and then watch him until it’s time.”

“That can be done,” Cisco said. “But it will cost. I didn’t realize we were talking about running this up to the trial.”

“How much?” I asked.

“We’re running four grand a day with the surveillance package we’ve got out there now,” Cisco said.

I looked at Lorna, the keeper of the practice’s bank accounts. She shook her head.

“We’re four weeks out from trial,” she said. “You’ll need a hundred thousand to keep it going, Mickey. We don’t have that.”

“Unless you go back to Andre La Cosse or Bosch,” Jennifer said. “They got off easy on your bail but had been willing to pony up six figures each.”

“No on Bosch,” I said. “I should be paying him rather than asking him for money. Lorna, see if you can set up a dinner between me and Andre. I’ll see what he’s willing to do.”

“Maybe Cisco can negotiate a discount?” Lorna said, looking across the table at her husband. “Mickey is a repeat client, after all.”

“I can try for it,” Cisco said.

I knew that he probably got a piece of any business he brought to the Indians. So Lorna’s suggestion hit him in his own wallet.

“Good,” I said.

“So, what about the FBI?” Jennifer said, changing the subject. “The FOIA and subpoena went nowhere. We could formally go to the U.S. Attorney with a Touhy letter. But we all know the feds can just sit on it, and it won’t work with our timeframe.”

“What’s a Touhy letter?” Cisco asked.

“Step one in a protocol for demanding a federal agent’s testimony,” Jennifer said. “Named after an Illinois convict whose case created it.”

“You’re right, though,” I said. “It’ll take forever. But there might be an end run with the bureau. And if we make enough waves at BioGreen or at least threaten to, they may come to the table.”

“Good luck with that,” Jennifer said.

“Yeah, luck is what we need,” I said.

And that put a solemn cap on the meeting.

27

Wednesdays had always been my night with my daughter but things had shifted with law school. She had a torts study group that met at seven, so I was relegated to the early-bird special. We’d meet on campus or close by for a quick and early dinner and then she would go off to the law school and the group’s meeting room.

I had Bishop drop me off at the gate on Exposition Boulevard. Before getting out, I handed sixty dollars over the seat to him.

“Pick me up here in two hours,” I said. “Meantime, use that money to buy me a prepaid burner and then get yourself something to eat with the rest. If there’s time after that, set up the burner. I’ll need to make a call on it when I get back.”

“You got it,” Bishop said. “You want to be able to text?”

“Not necessary. If it goes right, I’ll make one call and receive another. That’s it.”

I walked across campus from there to Moreton Fig in the student center. I found Hayley at an outside table near the towering tree the restaurant was named for. And to my surprise, she was sitting with her mother. They were on the same side of the table, so when I sat down I was facing them both.

“Well, this is a nice surprise,” I said. “Good to see you, Mags.” “Good to see you too. Are you going to eat?” Maggie asked.

“Uh, that’s why I’m here,” I said. “And to see our daughter.”

“Well, you don’t look like you’re eating,” she countered. “You’ve been out of lockup for, what, a month? And it looks like you’re still losing weight. What’s going on with you, Mickey?”

“What is this, an intervention?” I asked.

“We’re worried about you, Dad,” Hayley said. “I asked Mom to come.”

“Yeah, well, try being charged with a murder you didn’t commit,” I said. “It wears you down, whether you’re in jail or not.”

“How can we help?” Maggie said.

I paused before answering while a waitress brought us menus. Maggie refused a menu, saying she wasn’t going to eat.