“You’re talking about a guilty client,” Roulet said.

“On the other hand,” I said, “if the state’s case is weak, then delaying things only gives them time to strengthen their hand. You see, time is our only leverage at this point. If we refuse to waive our right to a speedy trial, it puts a lot of pressure on the prosecutor.”

“I didn’t do what they are saying I did,” Roulet said. “I don’t want to waste any time. I want this shit behind me.”

“If we refuse to waive, then theoretically they must put you on trial within sixty days of arraignment. The reality is that it gets pushed back when they move to a preliminary hearing. In a prelim a judge hears the evidence and decides if there is enough there to warrant a trial. It’s a rubber-stamp process. The judge will hold you over for trial, you will be arraigned again and the clock is reset to sixty days.”

“I can’t believe this,” Roulet said. “This is going to last forever.”

“We could always waive the prelim, too. It would really force their hand. The case has been reassigned to a young prosecutor. He’s pretty new to felonies. It may be the way to go.”

“Wait a minute,” Dobbs said. “Isn’t a preliminary hearing useful in terms of seeing what the state’s evidence is?”

“Not really,” I said. “Not anymore. The legislature tried to streamline things a while back and they turned the prelim into a rubber stamp because they relaxed hearsay rules. Now you usually just get the case cop on the stand and he tells the judge what everybody said. The defense usually doesn’t get a look at any witnesses other than the cop. If you ask me, the best strategy is to force the prosecution to put up or shut up. Make them go sixty days from first arraignment.”

“I like that idea,” Roulet said. “I want this over with as soon as possible.”

I nodded. He had said it as though a not-guilty verdict was a foregone conclusion.

“Well, maybe it doesn’t even get to a trial,” Dobbs said. “If these charges don’t hold muster -”

“The DA is not going to drop this,” I said, cutting him off. “Usually, the cops overcharge and then the DA cuts the charges back. That didn’t happen here. Instead, the DA upped the charges. That tells me two things. One is that they believe the case is solid and, two, they upped the charges so that when we start to negotiate they will deal from a higher ground.”

“You’re talking about a plea bargain?” Roulet asked.

“Yeah, a disposition.”

“Forget it, no plea bargain. I’m not going to jail for something I didn’t do.”

“It might not mean going to jail. You have a clean rec-”

“I don’t care if it means I could walk. I’m not going to plead guilty to something I didn’t do. If that is going to be a problem for you, then we need to part company right here.”

I looked closely at him. Almost all of my clients make protestations of innocence at one point along the way. Especially if it is our first case together. But Roulet’s words came with a fervor and directness I hadn’t seen in a long time. Liars falter. They look away. Roulet’s eyes were holding mine like magnets.

“There is also the civil liability to consider,” Dobbs added. “A guilty plea will allow this woman to -”

“I understand all of that,” I said, cutting him off again. “I think we’re all getting ahead of ourselves here. I only wanted to give Louis a general idea of the way this was going to go. We don’t have to make any moves or any hard-and-fast decisions for at least a couple of weeks. We just need to know at the arraignment how we are going to play it.”

“Louis took a year of law at UCLA,” Dobbs said. “I think he has baseline knowledge of the situation.”

Roulet nodded.

“Okay, good,” I said. “Then let’s just get to it. Louis, let’s start with you. Your mother said she expects to see you at dinner. Do you live at home? I mean at her home?”

“I live in the guesthouse. She lives in the main house.”

“Anyone else live on the premises?”

“The maid. In the main house.”

“No siblings, boyfriends, girlfriends?”

“That’s it.”

“And you work at your mother’s firm?”

“More like I run it. She’s not there too much anymore.”

“Where were you Saturday night?”

“Satur- you mean last night, don’t you?”

“No, I mean Saturday night. Start there.”

“Saturday night I didn’t do anything. I stayed home and watched television.”

“By yourself?”

“That’s right.”

“What did you watch?”

“A DVD. An old movie called The Conversation. Coppola.”

“So nobody was with you or saw you. You just watched the movie and then went to bed.”

“Basically.”

“Basically. Okay. That brings us to Sunday morning. What did you do yesterday during the day?”

“I played golf at Riviera, my usual foursome. Started at ten and finished at four. I came home, showered and changed, had dinner at my mother’s house-you want to know what we had?”

“That won’t be necessary. But later on I probably will need the names of the guys you played golf with. What happened after dinner?”

“I told my mother I was going to my place but instead I went out.”

I noticed that Levin had started taking notes on a small notebook he had taken out of a pocket.

“What kind of car do you drive?”

“I have two, an oh-four Range Rover I use for taking clients around in and an oh-one Carrera I use for myself.”

“You used the Porsche last night, then?”

“That’s right.”

“Where’d you go?”

“I went over the hill and down into the Valley.”

He said it as though it was a risky move for a Beverly Hills boy to descend into the working-class neighborhoods of the San Fernando Valley.

“Where did you go?” I asked.

“ Ventura Boulevard. I had a drink at Nat’s North and then I went down the street a ways to Morgan’s and I had a drink there, too.”

“Those places are pickup bars, wouldn’t you say?”

“Yes. That’s why I went to them.”

He was matter-of-fact about it and I appreciated his honesty.

“So you were looking for someone. A woman. Anyone in particular, someone you knew?”

“No one in particular. I was looking to get laid, pure and simple.”

“What happened at Nat’s North?”

“What happened was that it was a slow night, so I left. I didn’t even finish my drink.”

“You go there often? Do the bartenders know you?”

“Yeah, they know me. A girl named Paula was working last night.”

“Okay, so it wasn’t working for you there and you left. You drove down to Morgan’s. Why Morgan’s?”

“It’s just another place I go.”

“They know you there?”

“They should. I’m a good tipper. Last night Denise and Janice were behind the bar. They know me.”

I turned to Levin.

“Raul, what is the victim’s name?”

Levin opened his file to pull out a police report but answered before having to look it up.

“ Regina Campo. Friends call her Reggie. Twenty-six years old. She told police she’s an actress working as a telephone solicitor.”

“And hoping to retire soon,” Dobbs said.

I ignored him.

“Louis, did you know Reggie Campo before last night?” I asked.

Roulet shrugged.

“Sort of. I’d seen her around the bar scene. But I had never been with her before. I’d never even spoken to her.”

“Had you ever tried?”

“No, I never could really get to her. She always seemed to be with someone or more than one person. I don’t like to have to penetrate the crowd, you know? My style is to look for the singles.”

“What was different last night?”

“Last night she came to me, that was what was different.”

“Tell us about it.”

“Nothing to tell. I was at the bar at Morgan’s, minding my own business, having a look at the possibilities, and she was at the other end and she was with some guy. So she wasn’t even on my radar because she looked like she was already taken, you know?”

“Uh-huh, so what happened?”