Resurrection Walk

“It’s my business card. You call the number on it the next time you’re arrested and I’ll get you out and take your case.”

Moder looked up at Cisco with a scowl.

“What the fuck, man?” he said. “You said he’d pay me.”

“I never said that,” Cisco said. “I said if he likes what you say, he’ll take care of you. That’s it.”

“Fuck!” Moder said.

“Calm down,” I said. “You—”

“No, you calm the fuck down!” Moder yelled. “I need real money, man. I’m hurtin’, man!”

“The only witnesses I pay are expert witnesses,” I said. “And I don’t think you’re an expert in anything but getting high on crystal meth.”

“Then get the fuck out of here. All a’ you. Just get the fuck out. I ain’t fucking over my sister for a fucking business card. Get out!”

Bosch got up from the couch and started for the door. Cisco didn’t move. He was waiting for me so he could be the last man out in case Moder foolishly decided to get physical. I pulled out my wallet and retrieved a business card.

“You already fucked her over,” I said.

I tossed the card onto the coffee table and followed Bosch out the door.

The three of us didn’t speak until we got back to the street and stood around the Navigator.

“What do you think?” Cisco asked.

“It’d be nice if I had something solid to back up his story,” I said. “But I think I can make do if push comes to shove with the sister.”

“Subpoena him?” Bosch asked.

“No,” I said. “I don’t want the AG to know we found him. How did we find him?”

Bosch lifted his chin in Cisco’s direction.

“Cisco’s the man,” he said.

“I found out where she used to live in Glendale and asked around the neighborhood,” Cisco said. “People didn’t like her or her brother. It got easy from there.”

I nodded approvingly.

“So what is she inside for?” I asked.

“DUI manslaughter,” Cisco said. “Ran through a light in Sun Valley and T-boned a nurse coming home from work at St. Joseph’s. She blew a point-three. Got fifteen years for it. The nurse had a family.”

“What do you think, Harry?” I asked. “What could she get in exchange for snitching on Lucinda? I mean, going back to the sentencing judge is a nonstarter. No judge is going to chip time off the sentence on a case like that. That doesn’t win you any votes.”

“Don’t know,” Bosch said. “Maybe just a promise from the AG to try. She’s already been in eight years. She’ll start getting parole hearings in a year. Maybe Morris will put in the word there.”

“Yeah, gotta be it,” I said. “Good job, fellas. I’ve got something I can work with if need be.”

Neither investigator responded to the compliment.

“So, anybody hungry?” I said. “I’m starved. Musso’s is still open and I’m buying.”

“I could eat,” Cisco said.

“You can always eat,” I said. “Harry?”

“Sure,” he said.

“Okay, then,” I said. “I’ll call Sonny at the bar and see if he can get us a good table. Meet you both there.”

28

Eating late at Musso and Frank had been a mistake. I consumed no alcohol but couldn’t say no to a New York strip with all the trimmings. In the morning I felt heavy and sluggish. Luckily, Bosch was waiting on the front deck when I stumbled out. He drove while I pulled out the legal pad and got reacquainted with my case as we headed downtown.

“Who you calling first this morning?” Bosch asked.

“Well, first we see what comes up when Morris crosses Sanger,” I said. “I might need to take another go at her. I’m hoping she wears her uniform again today.”

“Why is that?”

“Oh, just a little groundwork I forgot to lay yesterday.”

“Okay, then who? Keith Mitchell?”

“Yeah, we’ll go with Mitchell. Get him on the record with his story, and then we bring in Shami. I need you to get her after you drop me at the courthouse. Just in case Sanger and Mitchell go down in a hurry.”

“You got it.”

My strategy was twofold. First and foremost, I had to show that the investigation of the case was off the rails from the beginning. There was either tunnel vision that led solely to Lucinda Sanz or, worse, a cover-up in which Lucinda was set up and sold down the river. The second part of the strategy was to somehow hand the judge a villain. I needed to point the finger at someone convincingly enough to show that Lucinda Sanz should be declared innocent or, at the very least, allowed to pull back her plea and go to trial. Exactly who that villain would be was yet to be determined, but thanks to Shami Arslanian’s computer modeling, I had an idea.

Bosch made good time. My eyes were on the paperwork and I didn’t notice the turns he made, but I got to the courthouse and through the two security screens early enough to ask Nate, the main courtroom marshal, to allow me back into the holding area so I could visit with my client.

Lucinda was in the same short-sleeved blue jumpsuit, but on this day she wore a heavy white long-sleeved T-shirt underneath. It didn’t matter what time of year it was — federal lockup was always a cold place to be.

“Cindi,” I said. “You doing all right?”

“I guess so,” she said. “When does court start?”