Angels Flight

Bosch had told them their careers depended on it.
    “I don’t have a lot of time,” Bosch began as he walked down the main aisle between the rows of desks, locking eyes with the four. Three of the detectives were standing around Rooker, who was seated at his desk. This was a clear giveaway. Whatever decisions had been made out at the scene, when it was only the four of them, Bosch was sure were made by Rooker. He was leader of the pack.
    Bosch stayed standing, stopping just outside the informal grouping of the other four. He started telling the story, using his hands in an informal manner, almost like a television news reporter, as if to underline that it was simply a story he was telling, not the threat that he was actually delivering.
    “The four of you get the call out,” he said. “You get out there, push the uniforms back and make a perimeter. Somebody checks the stiffs and lo and behold the DL says one of them is Howard Elias. You then put – ”
    “There was no driver’s license, Bosch,” Rooker said, interrupting. “Didn’t the cap tell you that?”
    “Yeah, he told me. But now I’m telling the story. So listen up, Rooker, and shut up. I’m trying to save your ass here and I don’t have a lot of time to do it.”
    He waited to see if anybody wanted to say anything more.
    “So like I said,” he began again, looking directly at Rooker, “the DL identifies one of the stiffs as Elias. So you four bright guys put your heads together and figure there’s a good chance that it was a cop who did this. You figure Elias got what he had coming and more power to the badge who had the guts to put him down. That’s when you got stupid. You decided to help out this shooter, this murderer, by staging the robbery. You took off – ”
    “Bosch, you are full – ”
    “I said shut up, Rooker! I don’t have the time to hear a bunch of bullshit when you know it went down just like I said. You took off the guy’s watch and his wallet. Only you fucked up, Rooker. You scratched the guy’s wrist with the watch. Postmortem wound. It’s going to come up on the autopsy and that means you four are going to go down the toilet unless it gets contained.”
    He paused, waiting to see if Rooker had anything to say now. He didn’t.
    “Okay, sounds like I have your attention. Anybody want to tell me where the watch and wallet are?”
    Another pause while Bosch looked at his watch. It was a quarter to ten. The four RHD men said nothing.
    “I didn’t think so,” Bosch said, looking from face to face. “So this is what we’re going to do. I meet with Irving in fifteen minutes to give him the overview. He then holds the press conference. If the front desk downstairs doesn’t get a call with information as to the location of the gutter or trash can or whatever place this stuff was stashed, then I tell Irving the robbery was staged by people at the crime scene and it goes from there. Good luck to you guys then.”
    He scanned their faces again. They showed nothing but anger and defiance. Bosch expected nothing less.
    “Personally, I wouldn’t mind it going that way, seeing you people get what you got coming. But it will fuck the case – put hair on the cake, taint it beyond repair. So I’m being selfish about it and giving you a chance it makes me sick to give.”
    Bosch looked at his watch.
    “You’ve got fourteen minutes now.”
    With that he turned and started heading back out through the squad room. Rooker called after him.
    “Who are you to judge, Bosch? The guy was a dog. He deserved to die like a dog and who gives a shit? You should do the right thing, Bosch. Let it go.”
    As if it was his intention all along, Bosch casually turned behind an empty desk and came back up a smaller aisle toward the foursome. He had recognized the phrasing of the words Rooker had used. His demeanor disguised his growing rage. When he got back to the group, he broke their informal circle and leaned over Rooker’s desk, his palms down flat on it.
    “Listen to me, Rooker. You call my home again – whether it’s to warn me off or to just tell me the weather – and I’ll come looking for you. You won’t want that.”
    Rooker blinked but then raised his hands in surrender.
    “Hey, man, I don’t know what the fuck you’re talk – ”
    “Save it for somebody you can convince. At least you could’ve been a man and skipped the cellophane. That’s coward shit, boy.”
    Bosch had hoped that when he got to Irving’s