The Lincoln Lawyer: A Novel Read Free Page A

Honor,” I said, “I would like to carry this over until next week, if possible.”
    “What is the cause of your delay, Mr. Haller?” the judge asked impatiently. “The prosecution is ready and I want to dispose
     of this case.”
    “I want to dispose of it as well, Your Honor. But the defenseis having trouble locating a witness who will be necessary to our case. An indispensable witness, Your Honor. I think a one-week
     carryover should be sufficient. By next week we should be ready to go forward.”
    As expected, DeVries objected to the delay.
    “Your Honor, this is the first the state has heard about a missing witness. Mr. Haller has had almost three months to locate
     his witnesses. He’s the one who wanted the speedy trial and now he wants to wait. I think this is just a delay tactic because
     he’s facing a case that—”
    “You can hold on to the rest of that for the jury, Mr. DeVries,” the judge said. “Mr. Haller, you think one week will solve
     your problem?”
    “Yes, Your Honor.”
    “Okay, we’ll see you and Mr. Casey next Monday and you will be ready to go. Is that understood?”
    “Yes, Your Honor. Thank you.”
    The clerk called the next case and I stepped away from the defense table. I watched a deputy lead my client out of the pen.
     Casey glanced back at me, a look on his face that seemed to be equal parts anger and confusion. I went over to Reynaldo Rodriguez
     and asked if I could be allowed back into the holding area to further confer with my client. It was a professional courtesy
     allowed to most of the regulars. Rodriguez got up, unlocked a door behind his desk and ushered me through. I made sure to
     thank him by his correct name.
    Casey was in a holding cell with one other defendant, the man whose case had been called ahead of his in the courtroom. The
     cell was large and had benches running along three sides. The bad thing about getting your case called early in the courtroom
     is that after the hearing you have to sit in this cage until it fills with enough people to run a full bus back to the county
     jail. Casey came right up to the bars to speak to me.
    “What witness were you talking about in there?” he demanded.
    “Mr. Green,” I said. “Mr. Green is all we need for this case to go forward.”
    Casey’s face contorted in anger. I tried to cut him off at the pass.
    “Look, Harold, I know you want to move this along and get to the trial and then the appeal. But you’ve got to pay the freight
     along the way. I know from long, hard experience that it does me no good to chase people for money after the horse is out
     of the barn. You want to play now, then you pay now.”
    I nodded and was about to turn back to the door that led to freedom. But then I spoke to him again.
    “And don’t think the judge in there didn’t know what was going on,” I said. “You got a young prosecutor who’s wet behind the
     ears and doesn’t have to worry about where his next paycheck’s coming from. But Orton Powell spent a lot of years in the defense
     bar before he got to the bench. He knows about chasing indispensable witnesses like Mr. Green and he probably won’t look too
     kindly upon a defendant who doesn’t pay his lawyer. I gave him the wink, Harold. If I want off the case, I’ll get off. But
     what I’d rather do is come in here next Monday and stand up out there and tell him we found our witness and we are ready to
     go. You understand?”
    Casey didn’t say anything at first. He walked to the far side of the cell and sat down on the bench. He didn’t look at me
     when he finally spoke.
    “As soon as I get to a phone,” he said.
    “Sounds good, Harold. I’ll tell one of the deputies you have to make a call. Make the call, then sit tight and I’ll see you
     next week. We’ll get this thing going.”
    I headed back to the door, my steps quick. I hate being inside a jail. I’m not sure why. I guess it’s because sometimes the
     line seems so thin. The line