The Fifth Witness Part 12

Twelve.

They left my face alone, but that was about the only thing that didn't feel bruised or broken when I woke up in ICU at Holy Cross. The final tally included thirty-eight st.i.tches in my scalp, nine fractured ribs, four broken fingers, two bruised kidneys and one t.e.s.t.i.c.l.e that had been twisted 180 degrees before the surgeons straightened it. My torso was the color of a grape Popsicle and my urine the dark hue of Coca-Cola.

The last time I had stayed in a hospital I got hooked on oxycodone, an addiction that nearly cost me my child and career. This time I told them I'd gut it out without the chemical help. And this of course was a painful mistake. Two hours after taking my stand I was pleading with the nurses, the orderlies and anyone who would listen to give me the drip. It finally took care of the pain but left me floating too close to the ceiling. It took them a couple days to find the right equilibrium of pain relief and consciousness. That was when I started accepting visitors.

Two of the first were a pair of detectives from the Van Nuys Division CAPs Unit. Their names were Stilwell and Eyman. They asked me basic questions so that they could complete their paperwork. They had about as much interest in determining who had attacked me as they did in the idea of working through lunch. I was, after all, the defense counsel to an alleged murderer their colleagues down the hall had popped. In other words, they weren't going to get their own b.a.l.l.s in a twist over this one.

When Stilwell closed his notebook I knew the interview-and the investigation-was over. He told me they would check back if anything came up.

"You forgot something, didn't you?" I said.

I spoke without moving my jaw because somehow moving my jaw set off the pain receptors in my rib cage.

"What's that?" Stilwell asked.

"You never asked me to describe my attackers. You didn't even ask what color they were."

"We can get all of that on our next visit. The doctor told us you need your rest."

"You want to make an appointment for the next visit?"

Neither detective answered. They wouldn't be coming back.

"I didn't think so," I said. "Goodbye, Detectives. I'm glad the Crimes Against Persons Unit is on this. Makes me feel safe."

"Look," Stilwell said. "Likely this was a random thing. Two muggers looking for an easy mark. The chances of us-"

"They knew who I was."

"You said they recognized you from the TV and the newspapers."

"I didn't say that. I said they recognized me and made it appear as though it was from TV or something. If you really cared about this you would've made that distinction."

"Are you accusing us of not caring about a random act of violence in this community?"

"Pretty much, yeah. And who says it was random?"

"You said you didn't know or recognize the a.s.sailants. So unless you are changing your mind about that, there is no evidence that this was anything other than a random act. Or at best a lawyer hate crime. They recognized you and didn't like that you defend murderers and sc.u.mbags and decided to relieve their frustrations on your body. Could've been a lot of things."

My entire body throbbed with pain ignited by their indifference. But I was also tired and wanted them gone.

"Never mind, Detectives," I said. "Go on back to Crimes Against Persons and fill out your paperwork. You can forget about this one. I'll take it from here."

I closed my eyes on them then. It was the only thing I could do.

The next time my lids came open I saw Cisco sitting in a chair in the corner of the room, staring at me.

"Hey, Boss," he said gently, as if his usual booming voice might hurt me. "How's it hanging?"

I coughed as I came fully awake and that set off a paroxysm of pain in my t.e.s.t.i.c.l.es.

"Feels like it's still about a hundred eighty degrees to the left."

He smiled because he thought I was delirious. But I was lucid enough to know that this was his second visit and that I had asked him to do some sleuthing when he had come the first time.

"What time is it? I'm losing track, sleeping so much."

"Ten after ten."

"Thursday?"

"No, Friday morning, Mick."

I'd been sleeping more than I realized. I tried to sit up but the movement set off a burning wave of pain across my left side.

"Jesus Christ!"

"You okay, Boss?"

"Whadaya got for me, Cisco?"

He stood up and came to the side of the bed.

"Not a whole lot but I'm still working it out. I got a look at the police report, however. Not a lot there but it did say that you were found by the night cleaning crew that came in about nine o'clock to work in the building. They found you out cold on the garage ramp and called it in."

"Nine o'clock wasn't too long after. Did they see anything else?"

"No, they didn't. According to the report. I plan to be there tonight to interview them myself."

"Good. What about the office?"

"Me and Lorna checked as best we could. It doesn't look like anybody was in there. Nothing missing, as far as we can tell. And it was left unlocked the whole night. I think you were the target, Mick. Not the office."

The medication drip worked on a regulated feed system that parceled out the sweet juice of relief according to impulses sent from a computer in another room and programmed by someone I had never met. But at that moment that computer nerd was my hero. I felt the cold trickle of a boost moving through my arm and into my chest. I was silent as I waited for my screaming nerve endings to be calmed.

"What are you thinking, Mick?"

"My mind's a blank. I told you I didn't recognize them."

"I'm not talking about them. I'm talking about who sent them. What's your gut tell you? Opparizio?"

"It would certainly be the choice. He knows we're coming for him. I mean, who else?"

"What about Dahl?"

I shook my head.

"What for? He already stole my contract and made the deal. Why beat me up after?"

"Maybe just to slow you down. Maybe to add intrigue to the project. This adds another dimension. It's part of the story."

"Seems like a stretch. I like Opparizio better."

"But why would he do it?"

"Same thing. To slow me down. Warn me off. He doesn't want to be a witness and he doesn't want to be dragged through the s.h.i.t he knows I have on him."

Cisco shrugged.

"Still not sure I'm buying it."

"Well, whoever it was doesn't matter. This isn't going to slow me down."

"What exactly are you going to do about Dahl? He stole the contract."

"I'm working on it. I'll have a plan for that douche bag by the time I get out of here."

"When's that supposed to be?"

"They're waiting to see if I'm healing all right. If not, they might take off my left nut."

Cisco cringed as though I was talking about his left nut.

"Yeah, I try not to think about it," I said.

"Okay then, moving on. What about the two men? I've got two white guys, early thirties, leather bomber jackets and gloves. You remember anything else this time?"

"Nope."

"No regional or foreign accents?"

"Not that I can remember."

"Scars, limps or tattoos?"

"None that I remember. It went down pretty quick."

"I know. You think you could pick them out of a six-pack?"

He was talking about a photo spread of mug shots.

"One of them I could. The one who did all the talking. I didn't look at the other one too much. Once he hit me I wasn't seeing anything."

"Right. Well, I'll keep working on it."

"What else, Cisco? I'm getting tired."

I closed my eyes to accentuate the point.

"Well, I was supposed to call Maggie as soon as you were awake. Her timing's been off. Every time she's been in here with Hayley you've been out."

"You can call her. Just tell her to wake me up if I'm asleep. I want to see my kid."

"Okay, I'll tell her to bring her after school. Meantime, Bullocks wants to bring by the motion for a continuance for your approval and signature before filing it by the end of the day."

I opened my eyes. Cisco had moved to the other side of the bed.

"What continuance?"

"For the prelim. She's going to ask the judge to put it back a few weeks in light of your hospitalization."

"No."

"Mick, it's Friday. The prelim's Tuesday. Even if they let you out of here by then you're not going to be in any kind of condition to-"

"She can handle it."

"Who, Bullocks?"

"Yes. She's good. She can handle it."

"She's good but green. Are you sure you want somebody just out of law school handling a prelim for a murder trial?"

"It's a prelim. Trammel's going to be bound over for trial whether I'm there or not. The best we can hope for is a little peek at the prosecution's case strategy and Aronson will be able to report back on that."

"You think the judge is going to allow it? He might see it as a move to set up an ineffective-counsel beef if there's ultimately a conviction."

"If Lisa signs off on it, we'll be okay. I'll call her and tell her it's part of the case strategy. Bullocks can spend some time here with me over the weekend and I'll prep her."

"But what is the case strategy, Mick? Why not just wait till you're healthy?"

"Because I want them to think they succeeded."

"Who?"

"Opparizio. Whoever did this to me. Let them think I'm incapacitated or running scared. Whatever. Aronson handles the prelim and then we push this thing to trial."