Three Shirt Deal

Chapter 47.

What happened next was right out of a bad episode of The Practice. Church called some ambulance chaser named Maximilian Morris. He turned out to be two hundred pounds of black marble with a neck like a fire hydrant, and enough attitude to be working home plate at Dodger Stadium. Worse still, his office was only six blocks away so he made it there before we even had time to set up for the search. "How does this warrant apply to my client?" the lawyer said, leaning into my space and glowering. "That car was part of an attempted murder scene in central California," I told him. "My client tells me he bought the vehicle as parts from a towing service up in Kings County. He's scrapping it." "Got a receipt from that towing service?" I asked. "Got a valid transfer of title?" I shot back. "Don't need a title transfer. It's not a car anymore. I just told you, it's being sold for parts." "Let me put it to you another way," Alexa said. "Your client is an accessory before and after the fact in the attempted homicide of two L. A. police officers. This car was the crime scene and it's being illegally destroyed. Before we're done, your guy is gonna be so deep in charges you're gonna need a new meter to keep up with the overtime." That bought us a call to the Superior Court judge who had signed the warrant. He was a big, gray-haired jurist named William Saxon, who had the reputation of being an easy guy to get a search warrant from, making him a frequent target for attorneys and cops with shaky P. C. But he was also a jittery personality who frequently changed his mind, earning him the courthouse nickname Windsock Willie. When Max Morris got on the phone and started complaining, Judge Saxon told Vonnie to hold on until he could check some case facts with the prosecutor's office. A bad sign. It sounded like the Windsock was about to shift positions. That brought Tito Morales to the scene. He pulled up in his tan Everyman's two-door twenty minutes later and parked it next to Vonnie's Geo. Tito got out and crossed the street like a man about to stomp somebody to death. His lips were dark purple curtains, exposing only the tiny bottoms of all that beautiful dentistry. "You insist on always doing things your own way, don't you?" he said to Vonnie, who, despite his power over her career, refused to retreat from this treacherous legal standoff. "This car was illegally removed from a police impound," she said stubbornly, indicating the axle and what few pieces were left on top of it. "I'm not some law school dropout," Tito said. "You don't think I know what's going on here? These two"-jerking a thumb at me and Alexa-"don't give a damn about any impound theft, if one even occurred. All they care about is reopening a second-degree homicide that I handled a year ago. And you know why?" "Because it desperately needs to be reopened?" Vonnie said, still facing him down. "Because they're seeking to humiliate me in the press on the eve of the mayoral election. This is politically motivated and has nothing to do with Hickman. According to the Kings County sheriffs, what happened up in central California was just a case of road rage. Some drunk farmhands lost it and started shooting. The Kings County sheriffs are working it. This car wasn't even impounded. The cops up there never wrote a hold order on it so there's no grounds for your warrant." "You seem to know a lot about the case," I said. "It's my job to know what's going on. There's nothing here. I'm instructing you not to serve that warrant, Yvonne." "With all due respect, Tito, you can't instruct me on one of my cases. I may technically work for you, but on this case we're still legal adversaries." "What case? You don't have a case. This damn case isn't even in the system." He was losing it, anger turning his Hispanic features red brown. "You're spending city time and resources on a case that's already been adjudicated. You're working it without portfolio or division approval." That produced a second flurry of phone calls-Yvonne to her division boss, Lynn Siegel, head of the Valley P. D.'s office; Tito to Judge Saxon. I could see the Windsock slowly turning against us. We stood in the unsearched garage as Mike Church's smile got wider and wider. Finally Morales shoved his cell phone at Vonnie. "You need to hear this," he snapped. "Judge Saxon." She listened on the phone as Saxon filled her ear with indecisive nonsense. While she was listening, I happened to notice that Alexa had moved away from us and was standing over by the garage's office looking through the plate glass window at an array of plaques and little league photos that hung on the walls inside. Finally, Vonnie said, "Okay. If that's Your Honor's decision." She hung up the cell phone and handed it back to Tito. Then she turned toward me, a long frown on her freckled face. "The judge has rescinded the warrant. No search," she said. "He says the SUV got towed by a local company in Kings County. The insurance company judged it a total loss. The Kings County cops didn't put a hold order on it, so after ten days, the towing company could legally sell it to cover costs. They sold it to Church for two thousand dollars, refunded the difference to Detective Llevar. It was a legal transaction." Tito turned to the four city cops who had arrived with Vonnie to help us search the place and issued a new order: "Escort these people out of the building, please." Moments later we were all standing in the alley. "This isn't over," I told Tito. "You've got a major conflict of interest here. After law school you represented this guy, Church, on a felony, and your families both go back to Pueblo Viejo, Mexico." That didn't slow Morales down. He turned toward the patroleman. "If these two suspended police officers give Mr. Church, or anybody else in this garage any further trouble, I want them arrested for obstructing justice and police harassment." Then he got into his cheap little car and pulled away. We walked out of earshot of the cops and had postgame huddle. "That's it for me," Vonnie said. "My show just got closed. If I know the great Tito Morales, starting tomorrow I'm gonna be down in part six handling DUIs. I think it's finally time to put my legal skills to more constructive use." "I'm sorry," I told her. "Hey, life is all about taking chances. It was getting time for me to move on, anyway." Then she returned to her tan Geo and drove off. In a minute, the thin trail of white smoke that had spewed from her hanging exhaust pipe was all that was left to remember her. "Nice gal," Alexa said. "We got hosed, but she brought the wood." "Except everybody now knows what we're doing," I told her. "Tony, Jane, the entire sixth floor is gonna find out in less than an hour. We're in the sauce." She didn't answer, remaining strangely quiet for a long moment. Then she asked, "You ever hear of anybody named E. Emmett Riley?" "Who's E. Emmett Riley?" "There are plaques and framed certificates of accomplishment to Mike Church and the NVNTA from this Riley guy hanging all over that office in there." "So?" "According to the plaques, Emmett Riley's kind of muckity-muck with California Homeland Security." I must have looked lost. "I wonder if Mr. Riley knows what's really going on with this little bus company," she said.