“Comes to one twenty-five even,” he said. “Four miles towing and the valve was three bucks.”

Bosch sat down in a chair in front of the desk and pulled out his fold of money.

“Can I get a receipt for it?”

As he counted out six twenties and a five he heard the drill outside. The tire was being put back on. He held the money out, but Mackey was preoccupied by looking at a Post-it note he had found on the desk. He held it at an angle that allowed Bosch to read it.

Ro-FYI. Visa called to confirm employment on your app.

Bosch read it in a few seconds, but Mackey looked at it for a long time before finally dropping the note back on the desk and taking the money from Bosch. Mackey put the money in a cash drawer and then started fishing around on the desk for a receipt pad. He was taking a long time.

“Kenny usually writes up the receipts,” he said. “And he went to get some chicken.”

Bosch was about to say never mind about the receipt when he heard the scrape of a step behind him and knew that someone had entered the office. He didn’t turn in case it was Spider.

“All right, Ro, it’s done. You just need to let her down.”

Bosch knew this was the tight moment. Mackey would either introduce him or not.

“All right, Spider,” Mackey said.

“Then I’m outta here.”

“Okay, man, thanks for sticking. Catch you tomorrow.”

Spider left the office without Bosch ever turning around. Mackey found what he was looking for in the center drawer and scribbled something on it. He gave it to Bosch. It was a blank receipt. He had written $125 in a childlike scrawl at the bottom.

“You can just fill that out,” Mackey said as he got up. “I’ll go drop your machine and you can get out of here.”

Bosch followed him out, realizing he had left the newspaper on the seat of the truck. He wondered if he should leave it there or come up with an excuse to go back into the truck so he could get it and maybe leave it in the office where he knew Mackey watched television during the slow parts of his shift.

He decided to leave it where it was. He had planted the seed as best he could. It was time now to just step back and see what grew from it.

The Mercedes was off the truck now. Bosch walked around to the driver’s side. Mackey was stowing the harness in the back of the tow truck.

“Thanks, Roland,” Bosch said.

“Just Ro, man,” Mackey responded. “You take care, man. And do yourself a favor and stay out of South-Central.”

“Don’t worry about me,” Bosch said. “I will.”

Mackey smiled and winked as he pulled off his glove again and offered Bosch his hand. Bosch shook it and smiled back. He then looked down at their hands and saw a tiny white scar in the fleshy part between Mackey’s right thumb and finger. The tattoo from a Colt.45.

“I’ll catch you later,” he said.

30

BOSCH DROVE TO THE SPOT where he had met Rider at the start of the surveillance shift and she was there waiting. He parked and got into her Taurus.

“That was close,” she said. “Turns out you probably did know that guy. Jerry Townsend. Ring a bell? We ran the plate on his pickup when he left work and got the ID.”

“Jerry Townsend? No, not the name. I just recognized his face.”

“He has a manslaughter conviction in ’ninety-six. Served five years. Sounds like it was a domestic abuse case, but that’s all they could pull off the computer. I bet if we pulled the file your name would be on it. That’s how you recognized him.”

“You think he could be connected to this thing we’re working?”

“I doubt it. What’s probably going on is that whoever owns that station doesn’t mind hiring ex-cons. They come cheap, you know? And if he’s scamming on repairs, then who’s going to complain?”

“Well, let’s get back and see what happens.”

She put the car into gear and pulled out on Tampa to head back up to the intersection where the service station was.

“How did it go with him?” Rider asked.

“Pretty good. I did all but read the story to him. He didn’t show anything, no recognition, but the seed is definitely planted.”

“Did he see the tattoos?”

“Yeah, they worked good. He started asking questions right after he saw them. Your file on Simmons paid off, too. He came up in the conversation. And for what it’s worth, he had a scar on the webbing by his right thumb. From the bite.”

“Harry, man, you covered everything. I guess all we do now is sit back and see what happens.”

“Did the other guys take off?”

“As soon as we get back on post they’re leaving.”

When they got to the intersection of Tampa and Roscoe they saw Mackey’s tow truck waiting to pull onto Roscoe to head west.

“He’s on the move,” Bosch said. “Why didn’t anybody tell us?”

Just as he said it Rider’s cell phone buzzed. She handed it to Bosch so she could concentrate on driving. She cut into the left turn lane so she would be able to follow Mackey onto Roscoe. Bosch opened her phone. It was Tim Marcia. He explained that Mackey went on the move without a call coming into the station for a tow. Jackson had checked with the sound room. There had been no call on the lines they were listening to.

“All right,” Bosch said. “He said something when I was in the truck about going to grab dinner. Maybe this is it.”

“Maybe.”

“Okay, Tim, we got him now. Thanks for sticking around. Tell Rick the same.”

“Good luck, Harry.”

They followed the tow truck to a plaza shopping center and watched Mackey go into a Subway fast food restaurant. He did not take the newspaper Bosch had left in the truck with him, but after getting his food he sat down at one of the inside tables and started to eat.

“You going to get hungry, Harry?” Rider asked. “Now might be the time.”

“I did Dupar’s on the way in so I’ll be fine. Unless we see a Cupid’s around. I’d go for that.”

“No way. That’s one thing I got over after you left. I don’t eat that fast food crap anymore.”

“What do you mean? We ate good. Didn’t we go to Musso’s every Thursday?”

“If you call chicken pot pie a healthy meal, yeah, we ate good. Besides, I’m talking about stakeouts. Did you hear about Rice and Beans in Hollywood?”

Rice and Beans was the designation given to a pair of robbery detectives in Hollywood Division named Choi and Ortega. They were there when Bosch worked in the division.

“No, what happened?”

“They were on a surveillance gig on these guys that were taking down street prostitutes, and Ortega was sittin’ in the car eating a hotdog. He suddenly started choking on it and he couldn’t clear himself. He’s turning purple and pointing to his throat and Choi’s like, what the fuck? So finally Beans jumps out of the car and Choi finally gets what’s going on. He comes running around to give him the Heimlich. He popped the hotdog onto the hood of the car. And they blew the surveillance.”

Bosch laughed as he pictured it. He knew it was a story Rice and Beans would never live down in the division. Not with people like Edgar there to tell and retell it to anyone who transferred in.

“Well, see, they don’t have a Cupid’s down in Hollywood,” he said. “If he’d been eating a nice soft dog from Cupid’s there wouldn’t have been a problem like that.”

“I don’t care, Harry. No hotdogs on stakeout. No crap. That’s my new rule. I don’t want people talking about me like that the rest of my -”

Bosch’s phone chirped. It was Robinson, who was working the late shift in the sound room with Nord.

“They just had a tow call come into the station. They then turned around and called Mackey. He must not be at the station.”

Bosch explained the situation and apologized for not keeping the sound room in the loop.

“Where’s the tow?” he asked.

“It’s an accident on Reseda at Parthenia. I guess the car’s DOA. He’s got to tow it into a dealership.”