Another reporter came up and I told her to take a hike, then turned back to my client.

“Listen, Walter, we need to talk.”

“Okay, talk.”

“I had a private investigator check your story out in Florida and I just found out it was bullshit. You lied to me, Walter, and I told you never to lie to me.”

Elliot shook his head and looked annoyed with me for taking the wind out of his sails. To him, being caught in the lie was a minor inconvenience, an annoyance that I would even bring it up.

“Why did you lie to me, Walter? Why’d you spin that story?”

He shrugged and looked away from me when he spoke.

“The story? I read it in a script once. I turned the project down, actually. But I remembered the story.”

“But why? I’m your lawyer. You can tell me anything. I asked you to tell me the truth and you lied to me. Why?”

He finally looked me in the eyes.

“I knew I had to light a fire under you.”

“What fire? What are you talking about?”

“Come on, Mickey. Let’s not get—”

He was turning to go back to the courtroom but I grabbed him roughly by the arm.

“No, I want to hear. What fire did you light?”

“Everybody’s going back in. The break is over and we should be in there.”

I gripped him even harder.

“What fire, Walter?”

“You’re hurting my arm.”

I relaxed my grip but didn’t let go. And I didn’t take my eyes off his.

“What fire?”

He looked away from me and put an “aw, shucks” grin on his face. I finally let go of his arm.

“Look,” he said. “From the start I needed you to believe I didn’t do it. It was the only way for me to know you would bring your best game. That you would be goddamn relentless.”

I stared at him and saw the smile become a look of pride.

“I told you I could read people, Mick. I knew you needed something to believe in. I knew if I was a little bit guilty but not guilty of the big crime, then it would give you what you needed. It would give you your fire back.”

They say the best actors in Hollywood are on the wrong side of the camera. At that moment I knew that was true. I knew that Elliot had killed his wife and her lover and was even proud of it. I found my voice and spoke.

“Where’d you get the gun?”

“Oh, I’d had it. Bought it under the table at a flea market back in the seventies. I was a big Dirty Harry fan and I wanted a forty-four mag. I kept it out at the beach house for protection. You know, a lot of drifters down on the beach.”

“What really happened in that house, Walter?”