Before leaving, he prepared his room, sliding the bed against one wall to create an open center space under the ceiling light. He then moved the table from the kitchenette under the light. His last move was to take the shades off the two bedside lamps and position the lights so they would shine toward the face of the individual who sat on the left side of the table.
At the door he reached into the back pocket of his pants to make sure he still had the room key. He felt the plastic fob attached to the key and something else. He pulled out Detective Mendenhall’s business card and realized it had been in his pants since he found it waiting for him on his desk.
The card prompted him to think about calling Mendenhall to see if she had gone to San Quentin yesterday as she had told Hannah she would. He dismissed the idea, deciding to stay focused on the wave of momentum the call from Charlotte Jackson had provided. He pocketed the card again and opened the door. He made sure the “Do Not Disturb” sign remained in place and pulled the door closed.
It was an investigative standard. The best and fastest way to break a conspiracy was to identify the weakest link in the chain and find a way to exploit it. When one link was broken, the chain would come loose.
Most often the weakest link was a person. Bosch believed he was looking at a twenty-year-old conspiracy that involved at least four people, possibly five. One was dead, two were wrapped in the protections of power, money, and the law. That left John Francis Dowler and Reginald Banks.
Dowler was out of town and Bosch didn’t want to wait for him to come back. He had speed and he wanted to keep it. That left Banks, not only by default but because Bosch believed it had been Banks who had made the call ten years ago to check on the case. That was an indication to Bosch of worry. Of fear. And those were signs of weakness that Bosch could exploit.
After an early lunch at the In-N-Out Burger on Yosemite Avenue and then a stop at a nearby Starbucks, Bosch drove back to Crows Landing Road and found the same spot at the curb from which he could watch Reginald Banks at work.
At first he didn’t see Banks at the desk that he had occupied the day before. The other salesman was in place at his desk but no Banks. But Bosch waited patiently, and twenty minutes later Banks appeared, coming from a back room in the dealership and carrying a cup of coffee. He sat down, tapped the space bar on his keyboard and started making a series of phone calls, each time after running a finger across his computer screen. Bosch guessed he was cold-calling former customers, seeing if they were ready to trade that old tractor in.
Bosch watched for another half hour, working on his story as he watched. When the other salesman got busy with a live customer, Bosch made his move. He got out of his car and walked across the street to the dealership. He stepped into the showroom and moved to the all-terrain vehicle closest to where Banks sat at his desk talking on the phone.
Harry started circling the machine, which was a two-seat four-wheeler with a small flatbed and a roll bar. The price tag was on a molded plastic stand right next to it. As Bosch expected, Banks soon hung up his phone.
“You looking for a Gator?” he called from his desk.
Bosch turned and looked at him as if noticing him for the first time.
“I might be,” he said. “You don’t have a used one of these, do you?”
Banks got up and came over. He was wearing a sport coat and a tie pulled loose at the collar. He stood next to Bosch and looked at the ATV as if assessing it for the first time.
“This is the top-of-the-line XUV model. You got all-wheel drive, fuel injection, four-stroke engine so it’s nice and quiet . . . and let’s see, adjustable shocks, disc brakes, and the best damn warranty you’ll ever get on one of these bad boys. I mean everything you need’s right there. It’s as unstoppable as a tank but you get John Deere comfort and reliability. By the way, I’m Reggie Banks.”
He put his hand out and Bosch shook it.
“Harry.”
“Okay, Harry, nice to meet you. You want to write it up?”
Bosch chuckled like a nervous buyer.
“I know it’s got what I want. I just don’t know if I need it to be brand-new. I didn’t realize these things cost so much. I could almost buy a car.”
“Worth every penny, though. Plus we got a rebate program that’ll take some of the sting off.”
“Yeah, how much of the sting?”
“Five hundred cash back and two fifty in service coupons. I could talk to my manager about knocking a dollar or two off the sticker. But he won’t go much. We sell a lot of these things.”
“Yeah, but why do I need service coupons when you say the thing runs like a tank?”
“Maintenance and upkeep, my man. Those coupons will cover you at least a couple years, get what’m saying?”
Bosch nodded and stared at the vehicle as if contemplating things.
“So you don’t have anything used?” he finally asked.
“We could go look out back.”
“Let’s do that. I gotta at least be able to tell my old lady I checked the inventory.”
“Good deal. Let me grab some keys.”
Banks went into the manager’s office along the back wall of the showroom and soon came out with a large ring of keys. He led Bosch down a hallway to the rear of the building. They went out a doorway into the fenced lot, where the used tractors and ATVs were stored. A row of ATVs lined the rear wall of the dealership.
“What I got is over here,” Banks said, leading the way. “Recreation or commercial?”
Bosch wasn’t sure what he meant, so he didn’t answer. He acted like he didn’t hear the question because he was mesmerized by the shiny row of vehicles.
“You got a farm or a ranch, or are you just going mud jumping?” Banks asked, making it clearer to Bosch.
“I just bought a vineyard up near Lodi. I want something that can fit between the rows and get me out there fast. I’m too old to be walking that far.”
Banks nodded like he knew the story.
“A gentleman farmer, huh?”
“Something like that, yeah.”
“Everybody’s buying up vineyards because it’s cool to be in the wine biz. My boss here—the owner—owns lots of grapes up in Lodi. You know the Cosgrove Vineyard?”
Bosch nodded.
“Hard to miss it. But I don’t know them. I’m small-time compared to that.”
“Yeah, well, you gotta start somewhere, get what’m saying? Maybe we can work out something here. What do you like?”
He gestured toward the six flatbed ATVs that all looked the same to Bosch. All of them were green, and the only differences he could perceive were whether they had roll bars or complete cages and how badly beaten-up and scratched the beds were. There was no fancy plastic stand with price tags.
“They only come in green, huh?” Bosch asked.
“Only green on our used line right now,” Banks replied. “This is John Deere. We’re proud to be green. But if you want to talk about something new, we can order you one in camo.”
Bosch nodded thoughtfully.
“I want a cage,” he said.
“All right, safety first,” Banks said. “Good choice there.”
“Yeah,” Bosch said. “Always safety first. Let’s go take a look at that one inside again.”
“No problem.”
An hour later Bosch returned to his car, seemingly having come close to buying the ATV in the showroom but ultimately backing away, saying he needed to think about it. Banks was left frustrated by coming so close to a sale, but he tried to salvage things for another day. He gave Bosch his card and encouraged him to call back. He said he’d go over the manager’s head and ask the big boss to discount the new ATV further than the rebates and coupons. He told Bosch that he and the big boss were tight and that the relationship went back twenty-five years.
There had been no purpose to the encounter other than for Bosch to get close to Banks and try to take his measure, maybe move him a little bit out of his comfort zone. The real move would come later, when part two of
