Angels Flight

thing, we pulled his file. He’s qualified eleven straight years at the range as an expert marksman. And you know the kind of shooting it took on Angels Flight. You take it all into consideration and it put him at the top of the list of people to talk to. So we’re talking to him.”
    “The marksman thing is bullshit. They give those pins out like candy at the range. I bet seven or eight out of every ten cops have that ribbon. And eight out of ten cops carry Smith nines. Meantime, Irving – or whoever the leak is – is throwing him to the wolves. Sacrificing him to the media so maybe he can stop the city from burning.”
    “He’s only a sacrifice if he didn’t do it.”
    There was a cynical casualness in Lindell’s voice that Bosch didn’t like.
    “You better take it slow,” Bosch said. “Because I guarantee you Frankie wasn’t the shooter.”
    “Frankie? You guys friends, are you?”
    “We were partners. A long time back.”
    “Well, it’s funny. He doesn’t seem so fond of you now. My guys tell me that the first thing he said when they knocked on his door was ‘Fuck Harry Bosch.’ He thinks you ratted him out, man. He doesn’t know that we have the threat in the deposition. Or he doesn’t remember it.”
    Bosch put the phone down on its hook. He was in a daze. Frankie Sheehan believed that Bosch had turned their conversation of the night before against him. He believed Harry had turned him in to the bureau. It made Bosch feel worse than the knowledge that his old partner and friend now sat in an interview room fighting for his life.
    “Sounds like you don’t agree much with Channel Four,” Pelfry said.
    “No, I don’t.”
    “You know something, I’ma take a wild ass guess here, but I think that glass in your hair means you’re the two guys they were talkin’ about on TV getting potshotted over on Western.”
    “Yeah, what about it?” Edgar asked.
    “Well, that’s a few blocks from where that Stacey Kincaid girl ended up.”
    “Yeah, so?”
    “Well, if that’s where you were comin’ from, then I wonder if you met my two buddies, Rufus and Andy.”
    “Yeah, we met ’em and we know all about the body being dumped three days late.”
    “You’re following my footsteps then.”
    “Some of them. We visited Mistress Regina last night, too.”
    Bosch was finally out of his daze but hung back and watched Edgar making progress with Pelfry.
    “Then this isn’t all bullshit what you said about who you think hit Eli?”
    “We’re here, aren’t we?”
    “Then what else you want to know? Eli kept his cards close most of the time. Very close to the vest. I never knew for sure which corner of the puzzle I was working, if you know what I mean.”
    “Tell us about the license plates,” Bosch said, ending his silence. “We know you guys pulled seventy-five days’ worth of receipts from Hollywood Wax. How come?”
    Pelfry looked at them a long moment as if deciding something.
    “Come on back,” he finally said.
    He led them to the rear office.
    “I didn’t want you guys back here,” he said. “But now…”
    He raised his hands to indicate the boxes covering every horizontal surface in the office. They were short boxes that normally held four six-packs of soda. Stacked in them were bundled receipts with cardboard markers with dates written on them.
    “Those are the receipts from Hollywood Wax?” Bosch asked.
    “That’s right. Eli was going to bring ’em all into court as an exhibit. I was holding ’em here till he needed ’em.”
    “What exactly was he going to show with them?”
    “I thought you boys knew.”
    “We’re a little behind you, Mr. Pelfry.”
    “Jenkins. Or Jenks. Most people call me Jenks. I don’t know exactly what alla these receipts meant – remember what I said about Eli not showin’ me all the cards in his deck – but I got an idea. See, when he su’peenied these, he gave me a list of license plate numbers on a piece a paper. He said I was to look through alla these and see if any of those numbers on the list turned up on the receipts.”
    “Did you?”
    “Yeah, took me the better part of a week.”
    “Any matches?”
    “One match.”
    He went over to one of the boxes and stuck his finger into the stack where there was a cardboard marker with the date 6/12 noted on it.
    “This one.”
    Pelfry pulled out a receipt and took it over to Bosch. Edgar came over and looked as well. The receipt was for a daily special. It identified the car to