McCaleb sat in his car in front of the post office. He felt uneasy, the way he always did when he knew the answer was within reach but he just couldn’t quite see it. His gut told him he was on the right track. Tafero, the PI who hid his upscale Hollywood practice behind a bail bonds shack, was the key. McCaleb just couldn’t find the door.
He realized he was very hungry. He started the car and thought about a place to eat. He was a few blocks from Musso’s but had eaten there too recently. He wondered if they served food at Nat’s but figured if they did that it would be dangerous to the stomach. Instead, he drove over to the In ’n Out on Sunset and ordered at the drive- through.
While he was eating his hamburger over the to-go box in the Cherokee, his phone chirped. He put the burger down in the box, wiped his hands on a napkin and opened the phone.
“You’re a genius.”
It was Jaye Winston.
“What?”
“Tafero got a ticket on his Mercedes. A black four-thirty C-L-K. He was in the fifteen-minute zone right in front of the post office. The ticket was written at eight-nineteen A.M. on the twenty-second. He hasn’t paid it yet. He has till five today and then it’s overdue.”
McCaleb was silent as he considered this. He felt nerve synapses firing like dominoes running up his backbone. The ticket was a hell of a break. It proved absolutely nothing but it told him that he was following the correct path. And sometimes knowing you were on the right path was better than having the proof.
His thoughts jumped to his visit to Tafero’s office and the photographs he had seen.
“Hey, Jaye, did you get a chance to look up anything on the case with Bosch’s old lieutenant?”
“I didn’t have to go looking. Twilley and Friedman already had a file on it with them today. Lieutenant Harvey Pounds. Somebody beat him to death about four weeks after he had that altercation with Bosch over Gunn. Because of the bad blood Bosch was a likely suspect. But he apparently was cleared – by the LAPD at least. The case is open but inactive. The bureau kind of watched from afar and has kept an open file, too. Twilley told me today that there are some people in the LAPD who think Bosch was cleared on it a little too quickly.”
“Oh, and I bet Twilley loves that.”
“He does. He already has Bosch down for it. He thinks Gunn is only the tip of the iceberg with Harry.”
McCaleb shook his head but immediately moved on. He couldn’t dwell on other peoples’ foibles and motivations. There was a lot to think about and plan for with the investigation at hand.
“By the way, do you have a copy of the parking ticket?” he asked.
“Not yet. It was all phone work. But it’s being faxed. The thing is, you and I know what it means but it’s a long way off from being proof of anything.”
“I know. But it will make a good prop when the time comes.”
“When the time comes for what?”
“To make our play. We’ll use Tafero to get to Storey. You know that’s where this is heading.”
“We? You’ve got it all planned out, don’t you, Terry?”
“Not quite but I’m working on it.”
He didn’t want to have an argument with her about his role in the investigation.
“Listen, my lunch is getting cold here,” he said.
“Well, excuse me. Go ahead and eat.”
“Call me later. I’m going up to see Bosch later on. Anything from Twilley and Friedman on that?”
“I think they’re still up there with him.”
“All right. Check you later.”
He closed the phone, got out of the car and carried the food box to a trash can. He then jumped back in and started the engine. On the way back to the post office on Wilcox he opened all the windows to air the smell of greasy food out of the car.
Chapter 39
Annabelle Crowe walked to the witness stand, drawing all eyes in the courtroom. She was stunningly attractive but there was an almost awkward quality about her movements. This mixture made her seem old and young at the same time and even more attractive. Langwiser would do the questioning. She waited until Crowe was seated before disturbing the room’s vibe and getting up to go to the lectern.
Bosch had barely noticed the entrance of the final witness for the prosecution. He sat at the prosecution table with his eyes down, deep in thought about his visit from the two FBI agents. He had sized them up quickly. They smelled blood in the water and knew if they bagged Bosch on the Gunn case that there would be no end to the media ride they would get from it. He expected them to make their move at any moment.
Langwiser quickly moved through a series of general questions with Crowe, establishing that she was a neophyte actress with a few plays and commercials on her resume as well as one line in a feature film that had yet to be released. Her story seemed to confirm the difficulties of making it in Hollywood – a knock-down beauty who was only one in a town full of them. She still lived on stipends sent from her parents in Albuquerque.
Langwiser moved on to more salient testimony, keying in on the night of April 14 of the previous year when Annabelle Crowe went out on a date with David Storey. After quickly drawing brief descriptions of the dinner and drinks the couple enjoyed at Dan Tana’s in West Hollywood, Langwiser moved to the latter half of the evening, when Annabelle accompanied Storey to his home on Mulholland Drive.
Crow testified that she and Storey shared a whole pitcher of margaritas on the back deck of his house before they went to his bedroom.
“And did you go willingly, Ms. Crowe?”
“Yes, I did.”
“You engaged in sexual relations with the defendant?”
“Yes, I did.”
“And this was consensual sexual intercourse?”
“Yes, it was.”
“Did anything happen that was unusual once you began having sexual relations with the defendant?”
“Yes, he started to choke me.”
“He started to choke you. How did that occur?”
“Well, I guess I closed my eyes at one point and it felt like he was changing positions or moving. He was on top of me and I felt his hand slide behind my neck and he sort of lifted my head off the pillow. Then I felt him slide something down…”
She stopped and put her hand to her mouth as she appeared to fight to maintain her composure.
“Take your time, Ms. Crowe. “
The witness looked as though she was genuinely trying to hold back tears. She finally dropped her hand and picked up her cup of water. She sipped from it and then looked up at Langwiser, a new resolve in her eyes.
“I felt him slide something down over my head and around my neck. I opened my eyes and he was tightening a necktie around my neck.”
She stopped and took another sip of water.
“Can you describe this necktie?”
“It had a pattern. It was blue diamonds on a field of purple. I remember it exactly.”
“What happened when the defendant pulled the tie tightly around your neck?”
“It was choking me!” Crowe replied shrilly, as if the question was stupid and the answer was obvious. “He was choking me. And he kept… moving in me… and I tried to fight him but he was too strong for me.”
“Did he say anything at this time?”
“He just kept saying, ‘I have to do this, I have to do this’ and he was breathing really hard and he kept on
