"I know what you told me. It was a nice story."
"It's no story."
"Well, you know what? Story, no story, I figure as soon as I find the body I'll have the real story to tell. I'll have you in the bag and be home free."
Renner leaned over the bed until his face was only inches from Pierce's.
"Where is she, Pierce? You know this is inevitable. We're going to find her. So let's get this over with now. Tell me what you did with her."
Their eyes were locked. Pierce heard the click of the tape recorder being turned back on.
"Get out."
"You'd better talk to me. You're running out of time. Once I take this in and it gets to the lawyers, I can't help you anymore. Talk to me, Henry. Come on. Unburden yourself."
"I said get out. I want a lawyer."
Renner straightened up and smiled in a knowing way. In an exaggerated fashion he held the tape recorder up and clicked it off.
"Of course you want a lawyer," he said. "And you're going to need one. I'm going to the DA, Pierce. I know I've already got you on obstruction and breaking and entering, for starters. Got you there cold. But all of that's bullshit. I want the big one."
He proffered the tape recorder as though the words he had captured with it were the Holy Grail.
"As soon as that body turns up, it's game over."
Pierce wasn't really listening anymore. He turned away from Renner and began staring into space, thinking about what was going to happen. All at once he realized he would lose everything. The company —everything. In a split second all the dominoes fell in his imagination, the last one being Goddard pulling out and taking his investment dollars somewhere else, to Bronson Tech or Midas Molecular or one of the other competitors.
Goddard would pull out and nobody would be willing to pull in. Not under the glare of a criminal investigation and possible trial. It would be over. He would be out of the race for good.
He looked back at Renner.
"I said I'm not talking to you anymore. I want you to leave. I want a lawyer."
Renner nodded.
"My advice to you is, make it a good one."
He reached over to a counter where medical supplies were displayed and picked up a hat Pierce hadn't seen before. It was a brown porkpie hat with the brim cocked down. Pierce thought nobody wore hats like that in L.A. anymore. Nobody. Renner left the room without another word.
23
Pierce sat still for a moment, thinking about his predicament. He wondered how much of what Renner had said about going to the DA had been threat and how much of it was reality. He shook free of the thoughts and looked around to see if the room had a phone.
There was nothing on the side table but the bed had side railings with all manner of electronic buttons for positioning the mattress and controlling the television mounted on the opposite wall. He found a phone that snapped out of the right railing. In a plastic pocket next to it he also found a small hand mirror. He held it up and looked at his face for the first time.
He was expecting worse. When he had felt the wound with his fingers in the moments after the assault, it had seemed to him that his face had been split open wide and that wide scarring would be unavoidable. At the time this didn't bother him, because he was happy just to be left alive. Now he was a little more concerned. Looking at his face, he saw the swelling was way down. He was a little puffy around the corners of his eyes and the lower part of his nose. Both nostrils were packed with cotton gauze. Both eyes had dark swatches of purple beneath them. The cornea of his left eye was flooded with blood on one side of the iris. And across his nose were the very fine trails of microstitching.
The stitching formed a K pattern with one line going up the bridge of his nose, and the arms of the K curving below his left eye and above it into his eyebrow. Half of his left eyebrow had been shaved to accommodate the surgery and Pierce thought that might be the oddest thing about the whole face he saw in the mirror.
He put the mirror down and he realized he was smiling. His face was almost destroyed.
He had an LAPD cop who was trying to put him in jail for a crime he had uncovered but did not commit. He had a digital pimp with a pet monster out there who was a live and real threat to him and others close to him. Yet he was sitting in bed, smiling.
He didn't understand it but knew it had something to do with what he had seen in the mirror. He had survived and his face showed how close he had come to not making it. In that there was relief and the inappropriate smile.
He picked up the phone and put in a call to Jacob Kaz, the company's patent attorney.
His call was put through to the lawyer immediately.
"Henry, are you okay? I heard you were attacked or something. What —"
"It's a long story, Jacob. I'll have to tell you later. What I need from you right now is a name. I need an attorney. A criminal defense attorney. Somebody good but who doesn't like getting his face on TV or his name in the papers."
Pierce knew that what he was asking for was a rarity in Los Angeles. But containing the situation was going to be as urgent as possibly defending himself against a bogus murder charge. It had to be handled quickly and discreetly, or the falling dominoes Pierce had imagined moments earlier would become the crushing blocks of reality that toppled both him and the company.
Kaz cleared his throat before responding. He gave no indication that Pierce's request was out of the ordinary or anything other than normal in their professional relationship.
"I think I have a name for you," he said. "You'll like her."
24
On Wednesday morning Pierce was on the phone with Charlie Condon when a woman in a gray suit walked into his hospital room. She handed him a card that said JANIS
LANGWISER, ATTORNEY AT LAW on it. He cupped his hand over the phone and told her he was wrapping up the call.
"Charlie, I've got to go. My doctor just came in. Just tell him we have to do it over the weekend or next week."
"Henry, I can't. He wants to see Proteus before we send in the patent. I don't want to delay that and you don't, either. Besides, you've met Maurice. He won't be put off."
"Just call him again and try to delay it."
"I will. I'll try. I'll call you back."
Charlie hung up and Pierce clipped the phone back into the bed's side guard. He tried to smile at Langwiser but his face was sorer than it had been the day before and it hurt to smile. She put out her hand and he shook it.
"Janis Langwiser. Pleased to meet you."
"Henry Pierce. I can't say the circumstances make it a pleasure to meet you."
"That's usually the way it is with criminal defense work."
He had already gotten her pedigree from Jacob Kaz. Langwiser handled the criminal defense work for the small but influential downtown firm of Smith, Levin, Colvin &
Enriquez. The firm was so exclusive, according to Kaz, that it wasn't listed in any phone book. Its clients were A-list, but even people on that list still needed criminal defense from time to time. That's where Langwiser came in. She'd been hired away from the district attorney's office a year earlier, after a career that included prosecuting some of Los Angeles's higher-profile cases of recent years. Kaz told Pierce that the firm was taking him as a client as a means of establishing a relationship with him, a relationship that would be mutually beneficial as Amedeo Technologies moved toward going public in years to come. Pierce didn't tell Kaz that there would be no eventual public offering or even an Amedeo Technologies if this situation wasn't handled properly.
After polite inquiries about Pierce's injuries and prognosis, Langwiser asked him why he thought he needed a criminal defense attorney.
"Because there is a police detective out there who believes I'm a killer. He told me he was going to the DA's office to try to charge me with a number of crimes, including murder."
"An L.A. cop? What's his name?"
"Renner. I don't think he ever told me his first name. Or I don't remember it.
I have his card but I never looked at —"
"Robert. I know him. He works out of Pacific Division. He's been around a long time."
"You know him from a case?"
"Early in my career at the DA I filed cases. I filed a few that he brought in. He seemed like a good cop. I think thorough is the word I would use."
"It's actually the word he uses."
"He's going to the DA for a murder charge?"
"I'm not sure. There's no body. But he said he was going to charge me with other stuff first. Breaking and entering, he says. Obstruction of justice. I guess he'll try to make a case for the murder after that. I don't know how much is bullshit threats and how much he can do. But I didn't kill anybody, so I need a lawyer."
She frowned and nodded thoughtfully. She gestured to his face.
"Is this thing with Renner in any way related to your injuries?"
Pierce nodded.
"Why don't we start at the beginning."
"Do we have an attorney-client relationship at this point?"
"Yes, we do. You can speak freely."
Pierce nodded. He spent the next thirty minutes telling her the story in as much detail as he could remember. He freely told her about everything he had done, including the crimes he had committed. He left nothing out.
As he talked Langwiser leaned against the equipment counter. She took notes with an expensive-looking pen on a yellow legal pad she took from a black leather bag that was either an oversized purse or an undersized briefcase. Her whole manner exuded expensive confidence. When Pierce was finished telling the story, she went back to the part about what Renner had called an admission from him. She asked several questions, first about the tone of the conversation at that point, what medications Pierce was on at the time and what ill effect from the attack and surgery he was feeling. She then asked specifically what he had meant by saying it was his fault.
"I meant my sister, Isabelle."
"I don't understand."
"She died. A long time ago."
"Come on, Henry, don't make me guess about this. I want to know."
He shrugged now, and this hurt his shoulder and ribs.
"She ran away from home when we were kids. Then she got killed . . . by some guy who had killed a lot of people. Girls he picked up in Hollywood. Then he got killed by the police and that . . . was it."
"A serial killer . . . when was this?"
"The eighties. He was called the Dollmaker. They all get names from newspapers, you know? Back then, at least."
He could see Langwiser reviewing her contemporary history.
"I remember the Dollmaker. I was at UCLA law school back then. I later knew the detective who was the one who shot him. He just retired this year."
Her thoughts seemed to drift with the memory, then she came back.
"Okay. So how did that get confused with Lilly Quinlan in your conversation with Detective Renner?"
"Well, I've been thinking about my sister a lot lately. Since this thing with Lilly came up.
I think it's the reason I did what I did."
"You mean you think you are responsible for your sister? How can that be, Henry?"
Pierce waited a moment before speaking. He carefully put the story together in his mind.
Not the whole story. Just the part he wanted to tell her. He left out the part that he could never tell a stranger.
"My stepfather and I, we used to go down there. We lived in the Valley and we'd go down to Hollywood and look for her. At night. Sometimes during the day, but mostly at night."
Pierce stared at the blank screen of the television mounted on the wall across the room.
He spoke as though he were seeing the story on the screen and repeating it to her.
"I would dress up in old clothes so I would look like them —one of the street kids. My stepfather would send me into the places where the kids hid and slept, where they would have sex for money or do drugs. Whatever . . ."
"Why you? Why didn't your stepfather go in?"
"At the time, he told me that it was because I was a kid and I could fit in and be allowed in. If a man walked into one of those places by himself, everybody might run. Then we'd lose her."
He stopped talking and Langwiser waited but then had to prompt him.
"You said at the time he told you that was the reason. What did he tell you later?"
Pierce shook his head. She was good. She had picked up the subtleties of his telling of the story.
"Nothing. It's just that . . . I think . . . I mean, she ran away for a reason. The police said she was on drugs but I think that came after. After she was on the street."
"You think your stepfather was the reason she ran away."
She said it as a statement and he gave an almost imperceptible nod. He thought about what Lilly Quinlan's mother had said about what her daughter and the woman she knew as Robin had in common.
"What did he do to her?"
"I don't know and it doesn't matter now."
"Then why would you say to Renner that it was your fault? Why do you think what happened to your sister was your fault?"
"Because I didn't find her. All those nights looking and I never found her. If only . . ."
He said it without conviction or emphasis. It was a lie. The truth he would not tell this woman he had known for only an hour.
Langwiser looked like she wanted to go further with it but also seemed to know she was already stretching a personal boundary with him.
"Okay, Henry. I think it helps explain things —both your actions in regard to Lilly Quinlan's disappearance and your statement to Renner."
He nodded.
"I am sorry about your sister. In my old job dealing with the families of the victims was the most difficult part. At least you got some closure. The man who did this certainly got what he deserved."
Pierce tried a sarcastic smile but it hurt too much.
"Yeah, closure. Makes everything better."
"Is your stepfather alive? Your parents?"
"My stepfather is. Last I heard. I don't talk to him, not in a long time. My mother is not with him anymore. She still lives in the Valley. I haven't talked to her in a long time, either."
"Where's your father?"
"Oregon. He's got a second family. But we stay in touch. Of all of them, he's the only one I talk to."
She nodded. She studied her notes for a long period, flipping back the pages on the pad as she reviewed everything he had said from the start of the conversation. She then finally looked up at him.
"Well, I think it's all bullshit."
Pierce shook his head.
"No, I'm telling you exactly how it hap —"
"No, I mean Renner. I think he's bullshitting. There's nothing there. He's not going to charge you with these lesser crimes. He'd get laughed right out of the DA's office on the B and E. What was your intent? To steal? No, it was to make sure she was okay. They don't know about the mail you took and they can't prove it anyway, because it's gone. As far as the obstruction goes, that's just an idle threat. People lie and hold back with the police all the time. It's expected. To try to charge somebody for it is another matter. I can't even remember the last obstruction case that went to court. At least there were none I remember when I was in the office."
"What about the tape? I was confused. He said what I said was an admission."
"He was playing you. Trying to rattle you and see how you'd react, maybe get a more damaging admission out of you. I would have to listen to the statement to get a full take on it, but it sounds as though it is marginal, that your explanation in regard to your sister is certainly legitimate and would be perceived that way by a jury. Add in that I am sure that you were under the influence of a variety of medications and you —"
"This can never go to a jury. If it does, I'm finished. I'm ruined."
"I understand that. But a jury's view is still the way to look at this because that is how the DA will look at it when considering potential ch
arges. The last thing they will do is go into a case knowing a jury isn't going to buy it."
"There is nothing to buy. I didn't do it. I just tried to find out if she was all right. That's all."
Langwiser nodded but didn't seem particularly interested in his protestations of innocence. Pierce had always heard that good defense attorneys were never as interested in the ultimate question of their clients' guilt or innocence as they were in the strategy of defense. They practiced law, not justice. Pierce found this frustrating because he wanted Langwiser to acknowledge his innocence and then go out and fight to defend it.
Chasing the Dime (2002) Page 20
