Page 78 of The Devil's Advocate

‘Have you heard from Bloch?’ I asked.

Kate filled me in. She had something on Lomax. Enough to put him away, potentially.

‘So is she gonna brace him? See if he folds?’ I asked.

‘She said she was going to talk to him first. In private.’

‘Shouldn’t someone go with her? Who knows how he’ll react? It could get violent,’ said Harry.

‘Bloch told me she’d make it clear there were other copies of the recording of Dorothy Majors. Lomax is smart enough to know hurting Bloch won’t solve the problem. Plus, this is Bloch we’re talking about. It’s Lomax who should be scared. If Bloch gets Lomax to agree to talk to Berlin and testify against Korn, then this could stall Andy’s case, maybe give us a chance to get the case before a new district attorney. They won’t want to touch any ongoing case of Korn’s,’ said Kate.

I nodded, said, ‘Let’s see what Lomax has to say first. Ask Bloch if she wants me to tag along. Just for company.’

‘Why don’t you call her now?’

‘I can’t right now. If she wants me to go with her, tell her I’ll be by the hotel a little later. You two head back now, start thinking about ways to attack the forensics. Did you move Andy and his mom into the hotel?’

‘It took some chicanery to sneak past the receptionist, but we managed it,’ said Harry.

I didn’t want Andy and Patricia out in the middle of nowhere. It was easier to protect them at the hotel, and they had agreed to move for the duration of the trial.

‘Great, make sure they order whatever they want on room service. I’ll get the check here,’ I said.

Harry wiped his lips on a napkin, scrunched it, put it on his empty plate and said, ‘You gonna stay for coffee?’

‘I sure am. I have to meet someone.’

‘Who are you meeting?’ asked Kate.

‘Better if you don’t know.’

They left shortly after. Harry was reluctant. Kate agreed it was best if she didn’t know what I was up to. Plausible deniability was always best when it came to my practices. The waitress came over to clear the table.

‘Can I get you anything else?’ she asked.

‘Yes, I would love a cup of coffee. In fact, make it two, please, ma’am.’

She smiled and brought me two mugs of steaming black coffee. I put sugar and creamer into them both and finished the first cup fast. Just as I started the second, a young woman came into the restaurant. Sandy Boyette wore a leather biker jacket, with a red tee underneath and blue jeans. She had lost her job in Gus’s Diner a few days ago, sold us her shit heap of a car, and now she was juror twelve in the Dubois case.

I checked my watch.

Dead on time.

There was no reception desk in the restaurant, and no sign to tell customers to wait until they were seated. In this place you put your ass in the first spot you found and were grateful for it.

She looked around the restaurant. It was getting full. Maybe sixty people. Families, couples, even a few guys in business suits. Barbeque cuts across all social classes in the South. And good barbeque, like this, is the closest a Southerner will get to communism.

I raised a hand, held it there for a few seconds until she saw me.

Nervously, she looked around at the other diners as she made her way over to the table. Then sat down.

‘How did you find me?’

‘I have a pretty good investigator.’

‘I shouldn’t be talking to you,’ she said.

‘Nice to see you too, Sandy,’ I said.