Page 10 of Pro Bono

This morning he came in and stopped at Martha’s desk. “Good morning,” he said. “I assume that Vesper Ellis hasn’t returned my call?”

“No, she hasn’t.”

“Anything else that’s urgent?”

“Not yet,” she said. “You know that whenever I say that, the phone rings.”

“True, so let me quickly fill you in on my evening.”

“Okay.”

“I worked on the Vesper Ellis thing until nine or so, and then stopped at Bernardine to pick up a take-out dinner.” Then he told her about being followed, attacked, shot at, and having his briefcase stolen.

She said, “God, Charlie. Do you know why?”

“No.”

“Do you need a rental car or anything?”

“Got one, thanks.”

The telephone on her desk rang, and she said, “Law Offices,” then, “One moment please,” and then pushedHoldand said, “Sergeant McHargue?”

He took the receiver and said, “Hello, Sergeant. This is Charles Warren.”

“Yes, sir.” The voice seemed to belong to someone large. “I wondered when you can be free to meet me at your home.”

“I’m at my office right now, but I can be there in fifteen to twenty minutes, depending on traffic.”

“I’ll see you there.”

He hung up and handed the phone to Martha. “I’ve got to meet him at my place. Then I’ll get back here and see if we can get through to Mrs. Ellis. They’re probably robbing her right now.”

“You know, after having your briefcase stolen last night, do you think it might be smart to scan the papers Mrs. Ellis brought in? That way we can do what we need to with them, and still have them locked in the safe.”

“I think it’s a great idea.” He put his sport coat back on. “See you later.”

Martha said, “I’ll get the papers scanned while you’re out. If you need to see the first ones, they should be up before you get finished with the cops.”

It took Warren twenty minutes to reach his building, and the man who was probably Detective McHargue was there waiting for him. McHargue was about six foot two and broad-shouldered, and he was wearing a coat and tie, which nobody in LA but cops and lawyers did. He had a face that Warren thought of as reassuring—not quite smiling, but not unfriendly. He was at an unmarked car talking to a pair of men in dark blue coverall suits like a forensic team. Warren parked on the street and approached.

McHargue said, “Mr. Warren, I’m Detective McHargue. These officers and I would like to start by taking a look at your car.”

“Right over here,” Warren said.

As they walked toward the entrance to the garage, McHargue said, “We’ve read the report, so we know what to look for. One thing is that the person who took your briefcase might have left a print or two on your car.”

Warren pressed his remote control and the iron gate rose to admit them. “That sounds good. I should mention that when I went to dinner I gave the car to a valet parking attendant, so his prints will be on the car too.”

“Do you mind if we take the car to the station so they can have a closer look at everything?”

“That’s fine,” Warren said. “I’ve got a rental car.”

“I figured you wouldn’t mind. The flatbed is on its way. Can you give these officers the key? Don’t forget to hold on to your other keys.”

“Thanks,” Warren said. He handed McHargue the car fob, and McHargue handed it to one of the men in overalls. The two examinedthe car closely from hood to trunk. McHargue walked all around the car and used his phone to take a few photographs—the trunk, the broken window, the interior where the glass had sprayed.

As they finished, the flatbed tow truck arrived and backed up the short, wide driveway. One of the two cops guided the driver with hand gestures, and the other drove the car out. While Warren and McHargue looked on, the men loaded the car onto the flatbed and drove off.

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