He was referring to the leather-over-aluminum attaché I was carrying. I could’ve made an argument about the search infringing on attorney-client privilege but I wanted to talk to my client. I stepped back toward him and swung the case up onto a counter, then popped it open. All it contained was the Lisa Trammel file, a fresh legal pad and the new contracts and power-of-attorney form I had printed out while driving up. I figured I needed Lisa to re-sign since my representation was crossing from civil to criminal.

Kurlen gave it a quick once-over and signaled me to close it.

“Hand-tooled Italian leather,” he said. “Looks like a fancy drug dealer’s case. You haven’t been associating with the wrong people, have you, Haller?”

He put on that canary smile again. Cop humor was truly unique in all the world.

“As a matter of fact, it did belong to a courier,” I said. “A client. But where he was going he wasn’t going to need it anymore so I took it in trade. You want to see the secret compartment? It’s kind of a pain to open.”

“I think I’ll pass. You’re good.”

I closed the case and headed back to the interrogation room.

“And it’s Colombian leather,” I said.

Kurlen’s partner was waiting at the room’s door. I didn’t know her but didn’t bother to introduce myself. We were never going to be friendly and I guessed she would be the type to stiff me on the handshake in order to impress Kurlen.

She held the door open and I stopped at the threshold.

“All listening and recording devices in this room are off, correct?”

“You got it.”

“If they’re not that would be a violation of my client’s-”

“We know the drill.”

“Yeah, but sometimes you conveniently forget it, don’t you?”

“You’ve got fourteen minutes now, sir. You want to talk to her or keep talking to me?”

“Right.”

I went in and the door was closed behind me. It was a nine-by-six room. I looked at Lisa and put a finger to my lips.