“I know. I just wanted to tell you that it is very important that I talk to you about something. The sooner the better.”
“What are you talking about? What’s so important?”
“Well, it’s about you.”
McEvoy stepped out of the alcove so that he was closer to Bosch and did not have to speak as loud.
“What about me?”
“Do you know you are under investigation by the Sheriff’s Department?”
Bosch looked up the hall toward the courtroom door and then back at McEvoy. The reporter was slowly bringing a pad of paper and pen up in his hands. He was ready to take notes.
“Wait a minute.” Bosch put his hand on the notebook. “What are you talking about? What investigation?”
“Edward Gunn, you remember him? He’s dead and you’re their suspect.”
Bosch just stared at him, his mouth coming slightly open.
“I wondered if you wanted to comment on this. You know, defend yourself. I’ll be writing a story for next week’s edition and wanted you to have the chance to tell your -”
“No, no comment. I have to get back.”
Bosch turned and walked a few paces toward the courtroom door but then stopped. He walked back to McEvoy, who was writing in the notebook.
“What are you writing? I didn’t say anything.”
“I know. That’s what I’m writing.”
McEvoy looked up from the notebook to him.
“You said next week,” Bosch said. “When does it come out?”
“New Times is published every Thursday morning.”
“So until when do I have, if I decide to talk to you?”
“About Wednesday lunch. But that will be pressing it. I won’t be able to do much then but drop in some quotes. The time to talk is now.”
“Who told you this? Who’s your source?”
McEvoy shook his head.
“I can’t discuss sources with you. What I want to talk about is this allegation. Did you kill Edward Gunn? Are you some kind of avenging angel? That’s what they think.”
Bosch studied the reporter for a long moment before finally speaking.
“Don’t quote me on this, but fuck you. You know what I mean? I don’t know if this is a bullshit bluff or not, but let me give you some advice. You better make damn sure you’ve got it right before you put anything in that paper of yours. A good investigator always knows the motivation of his sources – it’s called having a bullshit meter. Yours better be working real well.”
He turned and walked quickly to the courtroom door.
Langwiser had just finished with the hair specialist when Bosch came back into the courtroom. Once again Fowkkes stood up and reserved the right to recall the witness during the defense case.
While the witness came through the gate behind the attorneys’ lectern, Bosch slipped past him and went to his seat at the prosecution table. He didn’t look at or say anything to Langwiser or Kretzler. He folded his arms and looked down at the notepad he had left on the table. He realized he had adopted the same position and posture he had seen David Storey take at the defense table. The posture of a guilty man. Bosch quickly dropped his arms to his lap and looked up at the seal of the State of California which hung on the wall above the judge’s bench.
Langwiser got up and called the next witness, a fingerprint technician. His testimony was quick and more corroboration of Bosch’s testimony. It went unchallenged by Fowkkes. The technician was followed to the stand by the patrol officer who answered the first call from Krementz’s roommate and then by his sergeant, who was the next to arrive.
Bosch barely listened to the testimony. There was nothing new in it and his mind was racing in another direction. He was thinking about McEvoy and the story he was working on. He knew he should inform Langwiser and Kretzler but wanted time to think about things. He decided to hold off until after the weekend.
The victim’s roommate, Jane Gilley, was the first witness to appear who was not part of the law enforcement community. She was tearful and sincere in her testimony, confirming details of the investigation already revealed by Bosch but also adding more personal bits of information. She testified about how excited Jody Krementz had been at the prospect of dating a major Hollywood player and how both of them had spent the day before her date getting manicures, pedicures and hair stylings.
“She paid for me,” Gilley testified. “That was so sweet.” Her testimony put a very human face on what so far had been an almost antiseptic analysis by law enforcement professionals of a murder.
When Gilley’s examination by Langwiser was concluded, Fowkkes finally broke with his pattern and announced he had a few questions for the witness. He stepped to the lectern without any notes. He clasped his hands behind his back and leaned slightly forward to the microphone.
“Now, Ms. Gilley, your roommate was an attractive young woman, wasn’t she?”
“Yes, she was beautiful.”
“And was she popular? In other words, did she date a lot of fellows?”
Gilley nodded hesitantly.
“She went out.”
“A lot, a little, how often?”
“It would be hard to say. I wasn’t her social secretary and I have my own boyfriend.”
“I see. Then let’s take, say, the ten weeks prior to her death. How many of those ten weeks would you say went by without Jody going out on a date?”
Langwiser stood up and objected.
“Your Honor, this is ridiculous. It has nothing to do with the night of October twelfth going into the morning of the thirteenth.”
“Oh, but Your Honor, I think it does,” Fowkkes responded. “And I think Ms. Langwiser knows it does. If you allow me a little bit of string here, I will be able to quickly tie it up.”
Houghton overruled the objection and told Fowkkes to ask the question again.
“In the ten weeks prior to her death, how many weeks went by without Jody Krementz having a date with a man?”
“I don’t know. Maybe one. Maybe none.”
“Maybe none,” Fowkkes repeated. “And, Ms. Gilley, how many of those weeks would you say your roommate had at least two dates?”
Langwiser objected again but was overruled again.
“I don’t know the answer,” Gilley said. “A lot of them.”
“A lot of them,” Fowkkes repeated.
Langwiser rose and asked the judge to direct Fowkkes not to repeat the witness’s answer unless it was in the form of a question. The judge complied and Fowkkes went on as if he had not been corrected at all.
“Were these dates all with the same fellow?”
“No. Different guys mostly. A few repeats.”
“So she liked to play the field, is that correct?”
“I guess so.”
“Is that a yes or no, Ms. Gilley?”
“It’s a yes.”
“Thank you. In the ten weeks prior to her death, weeks in which you said she most often had at least two dates, how many different men did she see?”
Gilley shook her head in exasperation.
“I have no idea. I didn’t count them. Besides, what does this have to do -”
“Thank you, Ms. Gilley. I would appreciate it if you would just answer the questions I pose to you.”
He waited. She said nothing.
