“Harry, you got a backup?”
“I’ve got you, right?”
“I mean it.”
“Yes, Kiz, I’ve got a little popper on my ankle. I’ll be all right.”
He got out and got into his own car. On the drive over to the park he rehearsed the play in his mind. He got ready and got excited.
Ten minutes later he pulled over onto the shoulder of the park road, killed the engine and got out. He went to the right front side of the car and let the air out of the tire through the valve. Because he knew some tow trucks come equipped with compressed air, he opened his pocket knife and slashed open the stem of the tire’s valve. The tire would have to be repaired, not refilled.
Ready to go, he opened his cell phone and called the service station where Mackey worked. He said he needed a tow and was put on hold. A whole minute went by before another voice came on the line. Roland Mackey.
“What do you need?”
“I need a tow. I got a flat and the valve looks like it’s fucked up.”
“What kind of car is it?”
“Black Mercedes SUV.”
“What about the spare?”
“It got stolen by some ni-it was stolen when I was in South-Central last week.”
“That’s too bad. Shouldn’t go down there.”
“I had no choice. Can you tow me or not?”
“Okay, okay. Where are you?”
Bosch told him. It was close enough that this time Mackey didn’t try to talk him into calling someone else.
“All right, ten minutes,” Mackey said. “Be there with your car when I get there.”
“I’ve got nowhere else to go.”
Bosch closed the phone and opened the back of the SUV. He pulled his outer shirt out of his pants and then took it off. He put it in the back. His new tattoos were now partially displayed. He sat down on the tailgate and waited. Two minutes later his cell phone chirped. It was Rider.
“Harry, they were able to pipe the call over to me from ListenTech. You sounded legit.”
“Good.”
“I just talked to the guys. Mackey’s moving. They’re with him.”
“Okay, I’m ready.”
“I kind of wish now we had gotten you a body wire. You never know what this guy is going to say to you.”
“Too risky in just a T-shirt. Besides, the chances of the guy telling a stranger he was the one who killed the girl in the newspaper story are probably longer than me winning the lotto without buying a ticket.”
“I guess.”
“I gotta go, Kiz.”
“Good luck, Harry. Be careful.”
“All the time.”
He closed the phone.
29
THE TOW TRUCK SLOWED as it approached the Mercedes. Bosch looked up from the rear hatch, where he was sitting below the shade of the overhead door and reading the
Mackey was wearing leather gloves that were grease-stained dark in the palms. Rather than acknowledge Bosch, he walked around the front of the Mercedes and looked down at the flattened tire. As Bosch came around, still holding the paper, Mackey squatted down and looked at the tire’s valve. He reached out and bent it back and forth, exposing the slice that had been cut into it.
“Almost looks like it was cut,” Mackey said.
“Maybe glass in the road or something,” Bosch offered.
“And no spare. Ain’t that a bitch?”
He looked up at Bosch, squinting in the light from the sun that was beginning to go down behind Bosch.
“You’re telling me,” Bosch replied.
“Well, I can tow it in and then have my guy put a new valve on the tire. Take about fifteen minutes once we get it into the garage.”
“Fine. Do it.”
“This going to be on Triple A or insurance?”
“No, cash.”
Mackey told him it would be eighty-five dollars for the tow plus three dollars for every mile his car was towed. The charge for the valve replacement would be another twenty-five plus the cost of the valve.
“Fine, do it,” Bosch said again.
Mackey stood up and looked at Bosch. He appeared to glance directly at Bosch’s neck and then away. He said nothing about the tattoos.
“You should close the back,” he said instead. “Unless you want to dump everything out on the way.”
He smiled. A little tow truck humor.
“I’ll grab my shirt out of there and close it,” Bosch said. “All right if I ride with you?”
“Unless you want to call a cab and ride in style.”
“I’d rather ride with somebody who speaks English.”
Mackey laughed loudly while Bosch went to the back of his car. Bosch then stood off to the side while Mackey went through the procedures for hooking the vehicle to the truck. It took him no more than ten minutes before he was standing at the side of his truck, holding down a lever that raised the front end of the SUV into the air. After it was high enough for Mackey, he checked all the chains and harnesses and said he was ready to go. When Bosch got into the tow truck he had his shirt over his arm and the folded newspaper in his hand. It was folded so the photo of Rebecca Verloren was noticeable.
“Does this thing have air-conditioning?” Bosch said as he pulled the door closed. “I was sweating my ass off out there.”
“You and me both. You should’ve stayed in the vehicle with your own AC blowing while you waited. This piece of shit doesn’t have air in the summer or heat in the winter. Kind of like my ex-wife.”
More tow truck humor, Bosch guessed. Mackey handed him a clipboard with an information page and a pen attached.
“Fill that out,” he said. “Then we’re set.”
“Okay.”
Bosch started to fill the form in with the false name and address he had come up with earlier. Mackey pulled a microphone off the dashboard and spoke into it.
“Hey, Kenny?”
A few moments later there was a response.
“Go ahead.”
“Tell Spider not to leave yet,” Mackey said. “I’m bringing in a tire that needs a valve.”
“He’s not going to like that. He’s already washed up.”
“Just tell him. Out.”
Mackey returned the microphone to its dash holder.
“Think he’ll stay?” Bosch asked.
“You better hope so. Or you’re going to be waiting till tomorrow for your tire to get done.”
“I can’t do that. I have to get back on the road.”
“Yeah? Where to?”
