Chapter 31
MAGGIE WAS SITTING in the dark when I got home.
It was past eight. After court, I had gone out to Pasadena for a final pep-and-prep session with Naomi Kitchens.
There was a slim chance I might put her on the stand the following afternoon and I wanted to go through my plan for her direct examination and warn her about what would likely be a tough cross-examination from one of the Masons.
Maggie was sitting in the living room, staring out the picture window at the lights of the city below.
We had two soft armchairs positioned in front of the window with a small table between them for a wineglass for her.
Some nights we watched the sun go down over the hills to the right as the lights of the Sunset Strip came up on the left.
Most prominent in the view was the Sunset Tower, the art deco masterpiece that had stood tall on the strip for nearly a century.
“Hey, Mags, everything all right?” I asked.
“Why wouldn’t it be?” she responded.
“Well, you’re sitting here in the dark. All right if I turn on a light?”
She didn’t answer. I hit the wall switch that turned on the hanging light over the dining-room table. I put my briefcase down on one of the chairs and stepped into the shadows of the living room.
“What do you see out there?” I asked.
“Nothing,” she said.
It seemed obvious she had dropped into one of the dark troughs that had been coming more frequently.
The world around her seemed to be getting its momentum back while she remained behind with her pain.
I bent down and kissed her on the cheek, then took the chair to her left.
She had not pulled her gaze away from the window.
“What are you thinking?” I asked.
“Nothing,” she said. “Just watching the world go by.”
“Sorry I’m so late. I had to go up to Pasadena to see my witness.”
“The ethicist?”
“Yeah.”
She huffed in a way I took as sarcastic.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“No, what? What’s wrong with my witness?”
“It’s not your witness. It’s just the idea of an ethicist. I guess everybody should have one.”
I noticed the wineglass on the table was empty.
“You want a refill?” I asked.
“No, I already had one,” she said.
“Did something happen at work?”
“Nothing I can talk about. Just more of the same old, same old. Treachery and backstabbing in every office.”
I was actually relieved that it was a work situation that had her down and not the ongoing trauma for once.
“Come on, Mags, tell me what’s happening.”
“I don’t want to talk about it. You can read about it in tomorrow’s paper.”
“The Times? What are they going to say?”
Maggie blew out her breath and relented.
“It’s going to be a one-two punch. A story that says, based on unnamed sources inside my office, that I have been ‘incapacitated’—that’s the exact word—since the loss of my home in the fires.
And then, for good measure, there will be an editorial calling for me to step down if I can’t move on with my life.
From the same editorial board that endorsed me for DA after the recall. ”
“Fuck that.”
“That’s what I say. Fuck that. I’m not stepping down.”
“And you have no idea where this is coming from?”
“I have an idea, but nothing I can hang a hat on. I have enemies on the inside.”
“How did you hear about this? When?”
“When the reporter called me for comment. I was blindsided, all right, which is a sign that maybe I am incapacitated and should step down.”
“That’s not happening.”
“I know. I’m just saying that’s how it will look in the Times.”
“Then you have to go on the offensive, Mags.”
“You think I don’t know that? Mickey, just let me deal with it. It’s my problem and I’ll handle it.”
My phone started to buzz. I took it out of my pocket and checked the screen. It was Cisco. I wanted to take it but sent it to voicemail.
“Go ahead and take it,” Maggie said.
“No, it’s Cisco,” I said. “I can call him back. Who was the reporter who called you?”
“No one I know. Danielle something or other. I’ve never heard of her before.”
“Probably a newbie trying to make a name for herself. Any idea who was talking to her?”
“You already asked that. I don’t know. But as you know, I upset some applecarts when I came in. I dumped every division head, and those people didn’t take it well.”
It was a well-known fact in the district attorney’s office that when a new DA came in, a housecleaning followed.
Especially this time. Facing a recall election he was going to come out on the wrong side of, Maggie’s predecessor had stepped down.
Maggie was appointed by the county board of supervisors and then elected three months later.
The division heads were all loyalists to the predecessor.
Maggie had to clean house and put in her own people.
It was nothing new. Prosecutors who supported the wrong candidate often found themselves in new and lesser postings, often in courthouses far from their homes.
They called it freeway therapy. For an agency that was supposed to be apolitical, it was anything but.
My phone buzzed again. I still had it in my hand. It was Cisco again.
“Just take it, Mickey,” Maggie said. “It must be important.”
I did.
“Mick, they found Naomi,” Cisco said.
“Who found her?” I said.
“I don’t know yet.”
“What do you mean? I thought you were with her.”
“I’m here but not in the room with her. I’m in the lobby and she just called. Somebody just slipped a note under her door. I’m watching the exit to see who leaves.”
I’d known it was only a matter of time before Naomi Kitchens was located by the opposition forces. Whether they followed me to the hotel after court or picked up her trail through electronic means didn’t matter at this point. They had found my key witness.
“What did the note say?” I asked.
“She wouldn’t tell me,” Cisco said. “She’s scared and crying. I can go up to her room, but I’ll miss whoever did this.”
“No, you stay there. I’ll call her.”
“All right.”
I disconnected.
“Trouble?” Maggie asked.
“They’re fucking with my witness,” I said. “I had her stashed out at the Huntington.”
“This is the ethicist?”
“Yeah. I need to call and calm her down.”
I got up and punched in the number of the burner I had given Naomi. I walked out onto the front deck while the call went through. Naomi answered with a statement that drilled a spike into me.
“Mickey, I can’t testify.”
“Whoa, whoa, Naomi, what’s going on?”
“I just can’t testify. That’s all you need to know. Lily and I are going home tomorrow. And I’m hanging up now.”
“Naomi, wait. Just listen to me.”
I paused. She didn’t hang up. I had to think of something.
“Look, you can’t just go home,” I said. “You are a subpoenaed witness. If you don’t show up, the judge will send the marshals to find you and bring you to court. You could be arrested if you don’t show.”
“What are you talking about?” she said, her voice shrill. “Arrested? For what?”
“Well, you asked for a subpoena so you could get out of work. The judge issued it and now you need to show up. If you don’t, the judge can send the marshals after you.”
“I can’t believe this.”
The judge would send the marshals only if I asked her to, but I wasn’t going to mention that.
“Look, Naomi, let’s calm down for a second and talk about this,” I said. “First, is Lily there with you?”
“No, she went down to get something to eat,” Naomi said. “Cisco was watching her.”
“Okay, good. Now, Cisco said you told him that somebody just slipped a note under the door to your room. Is that what happened?”
“I was in the bathroom, and when I came out I saw it there on the floor.”
My phone started buzzing with another call. Cisco.
“Naomi, just hold on a second. Cisco’s calling me.”
I put the call on hold and switched over.
“No go,” Cisco said. “It was one of the valets here at the hotel. Somebody drove up in a Tesla and gave him a hundred bucks to slip the note under the door. He didn’t get a plate, and his description fits half the people in the city: male, white, eyeglasses, silver-gray Tesla. That’s it.”
“All right, I have to get back to Naomi before we lose her,” I said. “Stay there till I call you back.”
I switched over again. “Naomi, I’m back. You there?”
“Yes.”
“Tell me what the note says.”
There was no response.
“Naomi, I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s going on. What did the note say?”
“It just had a name written on it. Alison Sterling.”
“Okay. Who is Alison Sterling?”
Another pause.
“Naomi? Who is Alison Sterling?”
“Me. It’s me.”