“All right, if she calls back tell her I will try to be there and if I’m not there I will have somebody take it. Will you call the court and firm up the hearing?”

“I’m on it. But, Mickey, when are you going to tell her this is the last time?”

“I don’t know. Maybe today. What else?”

“Isn’t that enough for one day?”

“It’ll do, I guess.”

We talked a little more about my schedule for the rest of the week and I opened my laptop on the fold-down table so I could check my calendar against hers. I had a couple hearings set for each morning and a one-day trial on Thursday. It was all South side drug stuff. My meat and potatoes. At the end of the conversation I told her that I would call her after the Van Nuys hearing to let her know if and how the Roulet case would impact things.

“One last thing,” I said. “You said the place Roulet works handles pretty exclusive real estate deals, right?”

“Yeah. Every deal his name was attached to in the archives was in seven figures. A couple got up into the eights. Holmby Hills, Bel-Air, places like that.”

I nodded, thinking that Roulet’s status might make him a person of interest to the media.

“Then why don’t you tip Sticks to it,” I said.

“You sure?”

“Yeah, we might be able to work something there.”

“Will do.”

“Talk to you later.”

By the time I closed the phone, Earl had us back on the Antelope Valley Freeway heading south. We were making good time and getting to Van Nuys for Roulet’s first appearance wasn’t going to be a problem. I called Fernando Valenzuela to tell him.

“That’s real good,” the bondsman said. “I’ll be waiting.”

As he spoke I watched two motorcycles glide by my window. Each rider wore a black leather vest with the skull and halo patch sewn on the back.