Steve wondered about faith all the way to the hospital. What did he actually have faith in? Anything?
Even himself?
It was good, yes, to be going through the motions of being a real lawyer again. But the case stank to high heaven.
If there was a heaven.
Curls and Red greeted him at the front desk. Didn’t they ever take a day off?
“Well, hello there,” Curls said.
“Nice to see you,” Red said.
“I’m here about a kid who came in last night, got severely beaten.
I’m a lawyer. You know what I’m talking about?”
“We know several lawyers,” Red said.
“I mean about the kid who was beaten,” Steve said.
Curls looked at Red and Red at Curls, as if they knew exactly what it was all about.
“If you will wait just a moment,” Red said.
“I’ll do it,” said Curls.
Red had the phone in her hand. “I’m doing it right now.”
Curls looked at Steve. “She always wants to do it.”
“Do what?” Steve said.
“A young man is here,” Red said into the phone. “A lawyer. Yes. He’s inquiring.” Red listened. She put her hand on the mouthpiece and whispered, “What is the nature of your request?”
“I’m representing the suspect,” Steve said.
“Oh my,” Curls said.
Red returned to the phone. “He says he is representing the suspect.” Red’s eyes grew wide. “I’ll tell him.” She hung up the phone. “Mr. Meyer will be right down.”
“Meyer?”
“He’s the DA,” Curls said.
“I was going to tell him,” Red said.
“I’m perfectly capable,” Curls said.
“I’ll wait over here.” Steve shot to one of the blue chairs on the other side of the reception area. Sat and picked up a Time magazine. Only four months old. He read a story about the presidential campaign, about a candidate who was no longer a candidate.
“You repping Cullen?”
Steve looked up at a short and doughy guy of about forty, with springy black hair and a fuzzy moustache. He wore a rumpled brown suit with a loosened tie. In his black-rimmed glasses he reminded Steve of a young version of that film critic on TV, what was his name, Shalit?
“That’s right,” Steve said.
“Mal Meyer.” He stuck out his hand. Steve stood up and shook it.
“You working on Sunday?” Steve said.
“Same as you apparently. Come on over let’s talk about it what do you say?” Meyer talked without any pause between words. He motioned Steve to follow him down the corridor and looked over his shoulder as he walked. “So you came down to do what?”
“Talk to the victim.”
“Did you think I would let you do that?”
“Why not? I’m interested in the facts.”
“So am I. But that doesn’t mean I’m going to let you talk to the vic.”
“Are you charging my client?”
The little dynamo turned. “Oh you can bet your ever-loving we’re charging him and I’ll be there first thing Monday morning my friend.”
“Slow down a second.”
“What’s that?”
“Have you done any investigating?”
“Yeah I investigated the vic’s face is what I investigated and I’ll tell you something right now there’s no way this isn’t a felony assault under Penal Code 245 my friend.”
“So there’s no way I can convince you not to file right away?” Steve said.
“No way my friend.”
“Can I ask you something, Mr. Meyer?”
“Shoot.”
“Do you call everybody my friend?”
“It’s a way I have of talking sort of breaks the ice and makes it all informal if you prefer to do business that way and that’s the way I prefer to do business.”
“Here is how I prefer to do business: I. Like. To. Know. The. Facts.
First.”
With each enunciation, Mal Meyer blinked as if to count the wasted seconds.
“Got the facts all the facts I need,” Meyer said.
“You don’t have a witness. I do.”
Meyer smiled. At least it looked that way under the moustache. “You’re talking about another one of those Eldonites up in the mountains aren’t you? You’re new around here right?”
“Maybe.”
“What do you know about the Eldonites?”
“Some.”
“We been dealing with that ilk for as long as I can remember and I grew up here just over the county line. I know all about ’em and if you’re going to get involved you better get involved with your eyes open.”
“Thanks, Meyer, but I think I can make my own decisions regarding my professional life.” Oh no, he couldn’t, but he was not going to let some deputy DA know that. “But facts are stubborn things, as one president used to say, and the fact is you don’t have a witness and I do.”
“Who said I don’t have a witness?” Meyer pushed his glasses up with his middle finger, a gesture that looked both smug and insulting.
“Who?” Steve asked.
“Not so fast not so fast. We’ll do discovery at the right time.”
“I thought you wanted to do business informally, my friend. What happened to that?”
“You think I’m going to show you my hole cards when I don’t have to? Don’t you watch the poker channel?”
Meyer knew his cards, all right. The discovery statute in California only required the prosecutor to disclose witnesses thirty days before trial. And no case had yet come down requiring the ID of wits before a preliminary hearing.
“Then I guess,” Steve said, “we’re not really friends after all.”
“See you tomorrow,” Meyer said and blew by Steve back toward the elevators.