A Darkness More Than Night

called after her.
    “And stop giving him the freebie or he’ll never leave.”
    McCaleb acted like he didn’t hear it. Miranda exhaled like she was tired when she got to him.
    “I don’t know where Javier went. I can’t be standing here talking to you all night.”
    “Let me ask you one last thing,” he said. “You ever remember the cop being in here with Eddie Gunn at the same time – either together or apart?”
    She thought a moment and leaned forward.
    “Maybe, it could’ve happened. But I don’t remember.”
    McCaleb nodded. He was pretty sure that was the best he could get out of her. He wondered if he should leave some money on the bar. He’d never been good at that sort of thing when he was an agent. He never knew when it would be appropriate and when it would be insulting.
    “Can I ask you something now?” Miranda asked.
    “What?”
    “You like what you see?”
    He felt his face immediately begin to color with embarrassment.
    “I mean, you were looking enough. I just thought I’d ask.”
    She glanced over at the hookers and shared a smile. They were all enjoying McCaleb’s embarrassment.
    “They’re real nice,” he said as he stepped away from the bar, leaving a twenty-dollar bill for her. “I’m sure they keep people coming back. Probably kept Eddie Gunn comin’ in.”
    He headed toward the door and she called after him, her words hitting him in the back all the way to the door.
    “Then maybe you oughta come back and try ’em out some time, Officer!”
    As he went through the door he heard the hookers whoop and slap hands in a high five.

    ***

    McCaleb sat in the Cherokee in front of Nat’s and tried to shake off the embarrassment. He concentrated on the information he had gotten from the bartender. Gunn was a regular and might or might not have been in there on the last night of his life. Secondly, she was familiar with Bosch as a customer. He, too, might or might not have been in there on the last night of Gunn’s life. The fact that this information had indirectly come from Bosch was puzzling. Again, he wondered why Bosch – if he was Gunn’s killer – had given him a valid clue to follow. Was it arrogance, a belief that he would never be considered a suspect and therefore not be brought up during the questioning at the bar? Or could there be a deeper psychological motivation? McCaleb knew that many criminals make mistakes that ensure their apprehension because subconsciously they do not want to get away with their crimes. The big wheel theory, McCaleb thought. Maybe Bosch was subconsciously making sure the wheel turned for him as well.
    He opened his cell phone and checked the signal. It was good. He called Jaye Winston’s home number. He checked his watch while the phone was ringing and thought that it was not too late to call. After five rings she finally picked up.
    “It’s me. I’ve got some stuff.”
    “So do I. But I’m still on the phone. Can I call you when I’m done?”
    “Yeah, I’ll be here.”
    He clicked off and sat in the car waiting and thinking about things. He watched through the windshield as the white hooker from the bar stepped through the door with a man in a baseball cap in tow. They both lit cigarettes and headed down the sidewalk toward a motel called the Skylark.
    His phone chirped. It was Winston.
    “It’s coming together, Terry. I’m a believer.”
    “What did you get?”
    “You first. You said you got some stuff.”
    “No, you. What I got is minor. It sounds like you hooked something big.”
    “Okay, listen to this. Harry Bosch’s mother was a prostitute. In Hollywood. She got murdered when he was a little kid. And whoever did it got away with it. How is that for psychological underpinnings, Mr. Profiler?”
    McCaleb didn’t answer. The new information was stunning and provided many of the missing pieces in the working theory. He watched the hooker and her customer at the window of the motel office. The man passed cash through and received a key. They went in through a glass door.
    “Gunn kills a prostitute and walks away,” Winston said when he didn’t respond. “Just like what happened with his mother.”
    “How’d you find this out?” McCaleb finally asked.
    “I made that call we talked about. To my friend, Kiz. I acted like I was interested in Bosch and asked her if she knew if he was, you know, over his divorce yet. She told me what she knew about him. The stuff about his mother apparently came out a few years