“The eight ball.”

“I guess I should have thought of that when I put you in there. Anyway, I found her like that in the bed. I read the note and knew who you were. I figured you’d be back. Especially after you left that message on the phone yesterday.”

“You’ve been here all this time with…”

“You get used to it. I put the air on high, closed the door. You get used to it.”

Bosch tried to imagine it. Sometimes he believed that he was used to the smell, but he knew he wasn’t.

“What did she leave out of the note, Fox?”

“That was the part about her wanting Conklin for herself. See, I tried her with Conklin first. But it didn’t take. Then I set him up with Marjorie and got the fireworks. Nobody expected that he’d want to end up marrying her, though. Least of all Meredith. There was only room on the horse with the white knight for one rider. That was Marjorie. Meredith couldn’t handle that. Must’ve been a hell of a cat fight.”

Bosch said nothing. But the truth stung his face like a sunburn. That’s what it had all come down to, a cat fight between whores.

“Let’s go to your car now,” Fox said.

“Why?”

“We need to go to your place now.”

“For what?”

Fox never answered. A Santa Monica squad car stopped in front of the house just as Bosch asked his question. Two officers started getting out.

“Be cool, Bosch,” Fox said quietly. “Be cool if you want to live a little longer.”

Bosch saw Fox turn the aim of his gun toward the approaching officers. They could not see it because of the thick bougainvillea running along the front of the porch. One of them started to speak.

“Did someone here call nine-”

Bosch took two steps and launched himself over the railing to the lawn. As he did it, he yelled a warning.

“He’s got a gun! He’s got a gun!”

On the ground, Bosch heard Fox start running on the wood decking of the porch. He guessed he was going for the door. Then came the first shot. He was sure it came from behind him, from Fox. Then the two cops opened up like the Fourth of July. Bosch couldn’t count all the shots. He stayed on the grass with his arms spread wide and his hands up, just hoping they wouldn’t send one his way.

It was over in no more than eight seconds. When the echoes died and silence returned, Bosch yelled again.

“I’m unarmed! I’m a police officer! I am no threat to you! I am an unarmed police officer!”

He felt the end of a hot gun barrel pressed against his neck.

“Where’s the ID?”

“Right inside coat pocket.”

Then he remembered he still didn’t have it. The cop’s hands grasped him by the shoulders.

“I’m going to roll you over.”

“Wait a minute. I don’t have it.”

“What is this? Roll over.”

Bosch complied.

“I don’t have it with me. I’ve got other ID though. Left inside pocket.”

The cop started going through his jacket. Bosch was scared.

“I’m not going to do anything wrong here.”

“Just be quiet.”

The cop got Bosch’s wallet out and looked at the driver’s license that was behind a clear plastic window.

“Whaddaya got, Jimmy?” the other cop yelled. Bosch couldn’t see him. “He legit?”

“Says he’s a cop, got no badge. Got a DL here.”

Then he hunched back down over Bosch and patted the rest of his body in a search for weapons.

“I’m clean.”

“All right, turn back over.”

Bosch did so and his hands were cuffed behind his back. He then heard the man above him call in for backup and an ambulance on his radio.

“All right, get up.”

Bosch did as he was told. For the first time he could see the porch. The other cop stood with his handgun pointing down at Fox’s crumpled body at the front door. Bosch was led up the steps to the porch. He could see Fox was still alive. His chest was heaving, he had wounds in both legs and the stomach and it looked like one slug had gone through both cheeks. His jaw hung open. But his eyes seemed even wider as he stared at death coming for him.

“I knew you’d fire, you fuck,” Bosch said to him. “Just die now.”

“Shut up,” the one called Jimmy ordered. “Right now.”

The other cop pulled him away from the front door. Out in the street, Bosch could see neighbors joining together in little knots or watching from their own porches. Nothing like gunshots in suburbia for getting people together, he thought. The smell of spent gunpowder in the air does it better than a barbecue any day.

The young cop got right up in Bosch’s face. Harry could see that his name plate identified him as D. Sparks.

“Okay, what the fuck’s going on here? If you’re a cop, tell us what’s going on.”

“You two are a couple of heroes, that’s what’s going on.”

“Tell the story, man. I don’t have time for bullshit.”

Bosch could hear approaching sirens now.

“My name’s Bosch. I’m with LAPD. This man you shot is the suspect in the killing of Arno Conklin, the former district attorney of this county, and LAPD Lieutenant Harvey Pounds. I’m sure you’ve heard about these cases.”

“Jim, you hear that?” He turned back to Bosch. “Where’s your badge?”

“Stolen. I can give you a number to call. Assistant Chief Irvin Irving. He’ll tell you about me.”

“Never mind that. What’s he doing here?”

He pointed to Fox.

“He told me he was hiding out. Earlier today I got a call to come to this address and he was here waiting to ambush me. See, I could identify him. He had to take me out.”

The cop looked down at Fox wondering if he should believe such an incredible story.

“You got here right in time,” Bosch said. “He was going to kill me.”

D. Sparks nodded. He was beginning to like the sound of this story. Then concern creased his brow.

“Who called 911?” he asked.

“I did,” Bosch said. “I came here, found the door open and went in. I was calling 911 when he got the jump on me. I just dropped the phone because I knew you people would come.”

“Why call 911 if he hadn’t grabbed you yet?”

“Because of what’s in the back bedroom.”

“What?”

“There’s a woman in the bed. She looks like she’s been dead about a week.”

“Who is she?”

Bosch looked at the young cop’s face.

“I don’t know.”

Chapter Fifty

“WHY DIDN’T YOU reveal that you knew she was your mother’s killer? Why did you lie?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t figured it out. It’s just that there was something about what she wrote and what she did at the end that…I don’t know, I just felt like that was enough. I just wanted to let it go.”

Carmen Hinojos nodded her head as if she understood but Bosch wasn’t sure he did himself.

“I think that’s a good decision, Harry.”

“You do? I don’t think anybody else would think it was a good decision.”

“I’m not talking about on a procedural or criminal justice level. I’m just talking about on a human level. I think you did the right thing. For yourself.”

“I guess…”

“Do you feel good about it?”

“Not really…You were right, you know.”

“I was? About what?”

“About what you said about me finding out who did it. You warned me. Said it might do me more harm than good. Well, that was an understatement…Some mission I gave myself, right?”

“I’m sorry if I was right. But as I said in the last session, the deaths of those men can’t be-”

“I’m not talking about them anymore. I’m talking about something else. You see, I know now that my mother was trying to save me from that place I was at. Like she had promised me that day out by the fence that I told you about. I think that whether she loved Conklin or not, she was thinking of me. She had to get me out and he was the way to do it. So, ultimately, you see, it was because of me that she died.”

“Oh, please, don’t tell yourself that, Harry. That’s ridiculous.”