Page 87 of Resurrection Walk

“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 ATMusso 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?”

“They’ll get us in a few minutes. I just wanted to come back and tell you, so far so good. I think we’re right on track with how we want to present our case. Also, I don’t think you need to worry about Isabella Moder. We have that covered.”

“What do you mean, you have it covered?”

“If the AG puts her on the stand and she testifies about you, we should be able to show her to be the lying jailhouse snitch that she is.”

“Okay. Then what happens today?”

“Well, we put on our main case, and we hope it’s enough to force the judge to allow me to bring Agent MacIsaac in to testify. He’s the key, but we haven’t been able to get him into court. The feds are playing hide the ball with him.”

“Why won’t he come?”

“Well, because what the feds did is embarrassing to the Bureau. They looked the other way when you got charged, Cindi, and that wasn’t right.”

“And you can prove this?”

“I think so. If I can get him on the stand.”

The door behind me opened and Marshal Nate came in.

“Time to go,” he said.

I turned back to Lucinda and told her to stay strong.

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