I had never met Judge Holder before but I knew about her. She had put twenty years in as a prosecutor before being appointed to the bench by a conservative governor. She presided over criminal cases, had a few of the big ones, and was known for handing out maximum sentences. Consequently, she had been easily retained by the electorate after her first term. She had been elected chief judge four years later and had held the position ever since.

“Mr. Haller, thank you for coming,” she said. “I’m glad your secretary finally found you.”

There was an impatient if not imperious tone to her voice.

“She’s not actually my secretary, Judge. But she found me. Sorry it took so long.”

“Well, you’re here. I don’t believe we have met before, have we?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Well, this will betray my age but I actually opposed your father in a trial once. One of his last cases, I believe.”

I had to readjust my estimate of her age. She would have to be at least sixty if she had ever been in a courtroom with my father.

“I was actually third chair on a case, just out of USC Law and green as can be. They were trying to give me some trial exposure. It was a murder case and they let me handle one witness. I prepared a week for my examination and your father destroyed the man on cross in ten minutes. We won the case but I never forgot the lesson. Be prepared for anything.”

I nodded. Over the years I had met several older lawyers who had Mickey Haller Sr. stories to share. I had very few of my own. Before I could ask the judge about the case on which she’d met him, she pressed on.

“But that’s not why I called you here,” she said.