'What?'
'Pounds! Where was he found?'
'I don't know. You mean where was the car? I don't know. I didn't ask.'
She studied him and he noticed the hand that held his cigarette was shaking.
'All right, Harry, that's it. What's the matter? What is going on?'
Bosch looked at her for a long moment and nodded.
'Okay, you want to know? I did it. I killed him.'
Her face immediately reacted as if perhaps she had seen the killing firsthand, so close that she had been spattered with blood. It was a horrible face. Repulsed. And she moved back in her chair as if even a few more inches of separation from him were needed.
'You ... you mean this story about Florida was -'
'No. I don't mean I killed him. Not with my hands. I mean what I've done, what I've been doing. It got him killed. I got him killed.'
'How do you know? You can't know for sure that -'
'I know. Believe me, I know.'
He looked away from her to a painting on the wall over the banquette. It was a generic depiction of a beach scene. He looked back at Hinojos.
'It's funny ... ,' he said but didn't finish. He just shook his head.
'What is?'
He got up and reached to the potted palm and stubbed the cigarette out in the dark soil.
'What is funny, Harry?'
He sat back down and looked at her.
'The civilized people in the world, the ones who hide behind culture and art and politics ... and even the law, they're the ones to watch out for. They've got that perfect disguise goin' for them, you know? But they're the most vicious. They're the most dangerous people on earth.'
It seemed to Bosch that the day would never end, that he would never get out of the conference room. After Hinojos left, it was Irving's turn. He came in silently, took the Brockman seat and folded his hands on the table and said nothing. He looked irritated. Bosch thought maybe he smelled the smoke. Bosch didn't care about that but he found the silence discomforting.
'What about Brockman?'
'He's gone. You heard me tell him, he blew it. So did you.'
'How's that?'
'You could've talked your way out of it. Could've let him check your story and be done with it. But you had to make another enemy. You had to be Harry Bosch.'
'That's where you and I differ, Chief. You oughta get out of the office and come out on the street again sometime. I didn't make Brockman an enemy. He was my enemy before I even met him. They all are. And, you know, I'm really getting tired of everybody analyzing me and sticking their noses up my ass. It's getting real old.'
'Somebody's got to do it. You don't.'
'You don't know a thing about it.'
Irving waved Bosch's pale defense away like cigarette smoke.
'So what now?' Bosch continued. 'Why are you here?
You going to try to break my alibi now? Is that it? Brockman's out and you're in?'
'I don't need to break your alibi. It's been checked and it looks like it holds. Brockman and his people have already been instructed to follow other avenues of investigation.' . 'What do you mean, it's been checked?'
'Give us some credit here, Bosch. The names were in your notebook.'
He reached into his coat and pulled out the notebook. He tossed it across the table to Bosch.
'This woman that you spent some time with over there, she told me enough to the point that I believed it. You might want to call her yourself, though. She certainly seemed confused by my call. I was rather circumspect in my explanation.'
'I appreciate that. So, then, I guess I'm free to split?'
Bosch stood up.
'In a technical sense.'
'And the other senses?'
'Sit down for a minute, Detective.'
Bosch held his hands up. He'd gone this far. He decided he might as well go all the way and hear it all. He sat back down in his chair with a meager protest.
'My butt's getting sore from all this sitting.'
'I knew Jake McKittrick,' Irving said. 'Knew him well. We worked Hollywood together many years ago. But you know that already. As nice as it is to touch base with an old colleague, I can't say I enjoyed anything about the conversation I had with my old friend Jake.'
'You called him, too.'
'While you were in here with the doctor.'
'So then what do you want from me? You got the story from him, what's left?'
Irving drummed his fingers on the tabletop.
'What do I want? What I want is for you to tell me that what you are doing, what you have been doing, is in no way connected to what has happened to Lieutenant Pounds.'
'I can't, Chief. I don't know what happened to him, other than that he's dead.'
Irving studied Bosch for a long moment, contemplating something, deciding whether to treat him as an equal and tell him the story.
'I guess I expected an immediate denial. Your answer already suggests that you think there might be a correlation. I can't tell you how much that bothers me.'
'Anything is possible, Chief. Let me ask you this. You said Brockman and his crew were out chasing other leads — I guess avenues is what you said. Are any of these avenues viable? I mean, did Pounds have a secret life or are they just out there chasing their tails?'
'There's nothing that stands out. I'm afraid you were the best lead. Brockman still thinks so. He wants to pursue the theory that you hired a hitman of some sort and then flew to Florida to establish an alibi.'
'Yeah, that's a good one.'
'I think it stretches credibility some. I told him to drop it. For the moment. And I'm telling you to drop what you are doing. This woman in Florida sounds like the kind of person you could spend some time with. I want you to get on a plane and go back to her. Stay a couple weeks. When you come back, we'll talk about going back on the homicide table at Hollywood.'
Bosch was unsure whether there was a threat in all that Irving had just said. If not a threat, then maybe a bribe.
'And if I don't?'
'If you don't, then you are stupid. And you deserve whatever happens to you.'
'What is it that you think I'm doing, Chief?'
'I don't think, I know what you're doing. It's easy. You pulled the book on your mother's homicide. Why at this particular point in time you've done this, I don't know. But you're out running a freelance investigation and that's a problem for us. You have to stop it, Harry, or I'll stop you. I'll shut you down. Permanently.' 'Who are you protecting?'
Bosch saw the anger move into Irving's face as his skin turned from pink to an intense red. His eyes seemed to grow smaller and darker with fury.
'Don't you ever suggest such a thing. I've dedicated my life to this depart-'
'It's yourself, isn't it? You knew her. You found her. You're afraid of being dragged into this if I put something together on it. I bet you already knew everything McKittrick told you on the phone.' 'That's ridiculous, I -'
'Is it? Is it? I don't think so. I've already talked to one witness who remembers you from those days on the Boulevard beat.' 'What witness?'
