“I understand, Judge. Thank you.”

I nodded and left the chambers, thanking Mrs. Gill as I walked out through the courtroom.

Harry Bosch’s card was still in my pocket. I dug it out while I was going down in the elevator. I had parked in a pay lot by the Kyoto Grand Hotel and had a three-block walk that would take me right by Parker Center. I called Bosch’s cell phone as I headed to the courthouse exit.

“This is Bosch.”

“It’s Mickey Haller.”

There was a hesitation. I thought that maybe he didn’t recognize my name.

“What can I do for you?” he finally asked.

“How’s the investigation going?”

“It’s going, but nothing I can talk to you about.”

“Then I’ll just get to the point. Are you in Parker Center right now?”

“That’s right. Why?”

“I’m heading over from the courthouse. Meet me out front by the memorial.”

“Look, Haller, I’m busy. Can you just tell me what this is about?”

“Not on the phone, but I think it will be worth your while. If you’re not there when I go by, then I’ll know you’ve passed on the opportunity and I won’t bother you with it again.”

I closed the phone before he could respond. It took me five minutes to get over to Parker Center by foot. The place was in its last years of life, its replacement being built a block over on Spring Street. I saw Bosch standing next to the fountain that was part of the memorial for officers killed in the line of duty. I saw thin white wires leading from his ears to his jacket pocket. I walked up and didn’t bother with a handshake or any other greeting. He pulled the earbuds out and shoved them into his pocket.

“Shutting the world out, Detective?”

“Helps me concentrate. Is there a purpose to this meeting?”

“After you left the office today I looked at the files you had stacked on the table. In the file room.”

“And?”

“And I understand what you are trying to do. I want to help you but I want you to understand my position.”

“I understand you, Counselor. You have to protect those files and the possible killer hiding in them because those are the rules.”

I shook my head. This guy didn’t want to make it easy for me to help him.

“I’ll tell you what, Detective Bosch. Come back by the office at eight o’clock tomorrow morning and I will give you what I can.”

I think the offer surprised him. He had no response.

“You’ll be there?” I asked.

“What’s the catch?” he asked right back.

“No catch. Just don’t be late. I’ve got an interview at nine, and after that I’ll probably be on the road for client conferences.”

“I’ll be there at eight.”

“Okay, then.”

I was ready to walk away but it looked like he wasn’t.

“What is it?”

“I was going to ask you something.”

“What?”

“Did Vincent have any federal cases?”

I thought for a moment, going over what I knew of the files. I shook my head.

“We’re still reviewing everything but I don’t think so. He was like me, liked to stay in state court. It’s a numbers game. More cases, more fuck-ups, more holes to slip through. The feds kind of like to stack the deck. They don’t like to lose.”

I thought he might take the slight personally. But he had moved past it and was putting something in place. He nodded.

“Okay.”

“That’s it? That’s all you wanted to ask?”

“That’s it.”

I waited for further explanation but none came.

“Okay, Detective.”

I clumsily put out my hand. He shook it and appeared to feel just as awkward about it. I decided to ask a question I had been holding back on.

“Hey, there was something I was meaning to ask you, too.”

“What’s that?”

“It doesn’t say it on your card but I heard that your full name is Hieronymus Bosch. Is that true?”

“What about it?”

“I was just wondering, where’d you get a name like that?”

“My mother gave it to me.”

“Your mother? Well, what did your father think about it?”

“I never asked him. I have to get back to the investigation now, Counselor. Is there anything else?”

“No, that was it. I was just curious. I’ll see you tomorrow at eight.”

“I’ll be there.”

I left him standing there at the memorial and walked away. I headed down the block, thinking the whole time about why he had asked if Jerry Vincent had had any federal cases. When I turned left at the corner, I glanced back and saw Bosch still standing by the fountain. He was watching me. He didn’t look away, but I did, and I kept walking.

Eleven

Cisco and Lorna were still at work in Jerry Vincent’s office when I got back. I handed the court order for the bank over to Lorna and told her about the two early appointments I had set for the next day.

“I thought you put Patrick Henson into the dog pile,” Lorna said.

“I did. But now I moved him back.”

She put her eyebrows together the way she did whenever I confounded her – which was a lot. I didn’t want to explain things. Moving on, I asked if anything new had developed while I had gone to court.

“A couple things,” Lorna said. “First of all, the check from Walter Elliot cleared. If he heard about Jerry it’s too late to stop payment.”

“Good.”

“It gets better. I found the contracts file and took a look at Jerry’s deal with Elliot. That hundred thousand deposited Friday for trial was only a partial payment.”

She was right. It was getting better.

“How much?” I asked.

“According to the deal,” she said, “Vincent took two fifty up front. That was five months ago and it looks like that is all gone. But he was going to get another two fifty for the trial. Nonrefundable. The hundred was only the first part of that. The rest is due on the first day of testimony.”

I nodded with satisfaction. Vincent had made a great deal. I had never had a case with that kind of money involved. But I wondered how he had blown through the first $250,000 so quickly. Lorna would have to study the ins and outs of the accounts to get that answer.

“Okay, all of that’s real good – if we get Elliot. Otherwise, it doesn’t matter. What else do we have?”

Lorna looked disappointed that I didn’t want to linger over the money and celebrate her discovery. She had lost sight of the fact that I still had to nail Elliot down. Technically, he was a free agent. I would get the first shot at him but I still had to secure him as a client before I could consider what it would be like to get a $250,000 trial fee.

Lorna answered my question in a monotone.

“We had a series of visitors while you were in court.”

“Who?”

“First, one of the investigators Jerry used came by after hearing the news. He took one look at Cisco and almost got into it with him. Then he got smart and backed down.”

“Who was it?”

“Bruce Carlin. Jerry hired him to work the Elliot case.”

I nodded. Bruce Carlin was a former LAPD bull who had crossed to the dark side and did defense work now. A lot of attorneys used him because of his insider’s knowledge of how things worked in the cop shop. I had used him on a case once and thought he was living off an undeserved reputation. I never hired him again.

“Call him back,” I said. “Set up a time for him to come back in.”

“Why, Mick? You’ve got Cisco.”

“I know I’ve got Cisco but Carlin was doing work on Elliot and I doubt it’s all in the files. You know how it is. If you keep it out of the file, you keep it out of discovery. So bring him in. Cisco can sit down with him and find out what he’s got. Pay him for his time – whatever his hourly rate is – and then cut him loose when he’s no longer useful. What else? Who else came in?”

“A real loser’s parade. Carney Andrews waltzed in, thinking she was going to just pick the Elliot case up off the pile and waltz back out with it. I sent her away empty-handed. I then looked through the P and Os in the operating account and saw she was hired five months ago as associate counsel on Elliot. A month later she was dropped.”