After the courtroom cleared, Vincent and I were left looking at each other from our respective tables.

“So,” I said.

Vincent shook his head.

“First of all,” he said. “I want to make it clear that obviously I didn’t know Torrance was lying.”

“Sure.”

“Why would I sabotage my own case like this?”

I waved off the mea culpa.

“Look, Jerry, don’t bother. I told you in pretrial that the guy had copped the discovery my client had in his cell. It’s common sense. My guy wouldn’t have said shit to your guy, a perfect stranger, and everybody knew it except you.”

Vincent emphatically shook his head.

“I did not know it, Haller. He came forward, was vetted by one of our best investigators, and there was no indication of a lie, no matter how improbable it would seem that your client talked to him.”

I laughed that off in an unfriendly way.

“Not ‘talked’ to him, Jerry. Confessed to him. A little difference there. So you better check with this prized investigator of yours because he isn’t worth the county paycheck.”

“Look, he told me the guy couldn’t read, so there was no way he could have gotten what he knew out of the discovery. He didn’t mention the photos.”

“Exactly, and that’s why you should find yourself a new investigator. And I’ll tell you what, Jerry. I’m usually pretty reasonable about this sort of stuff. I try to go along to get along with the DA’s office. But I gave you fair warning about this guy. So after the break, I’m going to gut him right there on the stand and all you’re going to be able to do is sit there and watch.”