Echo Park

tidied up the van. I always had plastic drop sheets in the back. I wrapped her up and prepared her for burial. I then got out and locked the van. I took her things back to her car. I had her keys, too. I got in her car and drove it away. I thought that would be the best way to throw the police off.”
    “Where did you go?”
    “You know where I went, Detective. The High Tower. I knew there was an empty garage that I could use there. A week or so before, I had gone to look for work there and the manager happened to mention there was an open apartment. He showed it to me because I acted like I was interested.”
    “He showed you the garage, too?”
    “No, just pointed it out. On my way out I noticed that there was no lock on the latch.”
    “So you drove Marie Gesto’s car there and stashed it in the garage.”
    “That’s right.”
    “Did anyone see you? Did you see anyone?”
    “No and no. I was very careful. Remember, I had just killed someone.”
    “What about your van? When did you go back up Beachwood to get it?”
    “I waited until that night. I thought that would be better because I had some digging to do. You understand, I’m sure.”
    “Was this van painted with the name of your business?”
    “No, not then. I had just started and was not trying to draw attention yet. I worked mostly off referrals. I didn’t have a city license yet. All of that came later. In fact, that was another van altogether. That was thirteen years ago. I’ve gotten a new van since then.”
    “How did you get back up to the stables to get your van?”
    “Took a cab.”
    “You remember which cab company?”
    “I don’t remember because I didn’t call for it. After dropping off the car at the High Tower I walked over to a restaurant I used to enjoy when I lived on Franklin. Bird’s—have you ever been there? Good roasted chicken. Anyway, it was a long walk. I had dinner and when it was late enough I had them call me a cab. I went up to my van, only I had him drop me up at the stables so it wouldn’t look like the van was mine. When I was sure there was no one around I went to the van and I found a nice private spot to plant my little flower.”
    “And this is a spot you will still be able to find?”
    “Absolutely.”
    “You dug a hole.”
    “I did.”
    “How deep?”
    “I don’t know, not too deep.”
    “What did you use to dig it?”
    “I had a shovel.”
    “You always carried a shovel in your window-washing van?”
    “No, actually. I found it leaning against the barn up at the stables. I think it was for cleaning out the stalls, that sort of thing.”
    “You put it back when you were finished?”
    “Of course, Detective. I steal souls, not shovels.”
    Bosch looked at the files in front of him.
    “When was the last time you were at the place where you buried Marie Gesto?”
    “Mmmm, a little over a year ago. I usually made the trip every September ninth. You know, to celebrate our anniversary. This year I was a bit tied up, as you know.”
    He smiled good-naturedly.
    Bosch knew he had covered everything in general terms. It would all come down to whether Waits could lead them to the body and if Forensics would then match his story.
    “There came a time after the murder when the media paid a lot of attention to Marie Gesto’s disappearance,” Bosch said. “Do you remember that?”
    “Of course. That taught me a good lesson. I never acted so impulsively again. I was more careful about the flowers I picked after that.”
    “You called the investigators on the case, didn’t you?”
    “As a matter of fact I did. I remember that. I called and told them that I had seen her in the Mayfair store and that she hadn’t been with anybody.”
    “Why did you call?”
    Waits shrugged.
    “I don’t know. I just thought it would be fun. You know, to actually talk to one of the men who was hunting me. Was it you?”
    “My partner.”
    “Yes, I thought I might be able to shift the focus away from the Mayfair. After all, I had been in there and I thought, who knows, maybe someone could describe me.”
    Bosch nodded.
    “You gave the name Robert Saxon when you called. Why?”
    Waits shrugged again.
    “It was just a name I used from time to time.”
    “It’s not your real name?”
    “No, Detective, you know my real name.”
    “What if I told you I don’t believe a fucking word you’ve said here today? What would you say to that?”
    “I would say, take me to Beachwood Canyon and I will prove every