City Of Bones

because he found any humor in the situation.
    “Two against one. That’s not fair.”
    “There’s two things we can do,” Bosch said. “To help be sure. He’s probably down there in the holding tank by now. We can go down there, tell him it was Sheila who gave us the ID and flat out ask him if he’s covering for her.”
    “And?”
    “Ask him to take a polygraph.”
    “They’re worthless. We can’t admit them in-”
    “I’m not talking about court. I’m talking about bluffing him. If he’s lying, he won’t take it.”
    Portugal pulled his chair back to his desk. He picked up the paper and glanced at the story for a moment. His eyes then appeared to take a roving inventory of the desktop while he thought and came to a decision.
    “Okay,” he finally said. “Go do it. I’m dropping the charge. For now.”

Chapter 44
    BOSCH and Edgar walked out to the elevator alcove and stood silently after Edgar pushed the down button.
    Bosch looked at his blurred image reflected in the stainless steel doors of the elevator. He looked over at Edgar’s reflection and then directly at his partner.
    “So,” he said. “How pissed off are you?”
    “Somewhere between very and not too.”
    Bosch nodded.
    “You really left me with my dick in my hand in there, Harry.”
    “I know. I’m sorry. You want to just take the stairs?”
    “Have patience, Harry. What happened to your cell phone last night? You break it or something?”
    Bosch shook his head.
    “No, I just wanted to-I wasn’t sure of what I was thinking and so I wanted to check things out on my own first. Besides, I knew you had the kid on Thursday nights. Then running into Sheila at the trailer, that was out of left field.”
    “What about when you started searching the place? You coulda called. My kid was back home asleep by then.”
    “Yeah, I know. I should have, Jed.”
    Edgar nodded and that was the end of it.
    “You know this theory of yours puts us at ground zero now,” he said.
    “Yeah, ground zero. We’re gonna have to start over, look at everything again.”
    “You going to work it this weekend?”
    “Yeah, probably.”
    “Then call me.”
    “I will.”
    Finally, Bosch’s impatience got the better of him.
    “Fuck it. I’m taking the stairs. I’ll see you down there.”
    He left the alcove and went to the emergency stairwell.

Chapter 45
    THROUGH an assistant in Sheila Delacroix’s office Bosch and Edgar learned that she was working out of a temporary production office on the Westside, where she was casting a television pilot called The Closers.
    Bosch and Edgar parked in a reserved lot full of Jaguars and BMWs and went into a brick warehouse that had been divided into two levels of offices. There were paper signs taped on the wall that said CASTING and showed arrows pointing the way. They went down a long hallway and then up a rear staircase.
    When they reached the second floor they came into another long hallway that was lined with men in dark suits that were rumpled and out of style. Some of the men wore raincoats and fedoras. Some were pacing and gesturing and talking quietly to themselves.
    Bosch and Edgar followed the arrows and turned into a large room lined with chairs holding more men in bad suits. They all stared as the partners walked to a desk at the far end of the room where a young woman sat, studying the names on a clipboard. There were stacks of 8 × 10 photos on the desk and script pages. From beyond a closed door behind the woman, Bosch could hear the muffled sounds of tense voices.
    They waited until the woman looked up from her clipboard.
    “We need to see Sheila Delacroix,” Bosch said.
    “And your names?”
    “Detectives Bosch and Edgar.”
    She started to smile and Bosch took out his badge and let her see it.
    “You guys are good,” she said. “Did you get the sides already?”
    “Excuse me?”
    “The sides. And where are your head shots?”
    Bosch put it together.
    “We’re not actors. We’re real cops. Would you please tell her we need to see her right away?”
    The woman continued to smile.
    “Is that real, that cut on your cheek?” she said. “It looks real.”
    Bosch looked at Edgar and nodded toward the door. Simultaneously they went around both sides of her desk and approached the door.
    “Hey! She’s taking a reading! You can’t-”
    Bosch opened the door and stepped into a small room where Sheila Delacroix was sitting behind a desk watching a man seated on a folding chair in the