Suicide Run

The husband, Harry. He shot her, hid everything in the compartment and then started calling for help.”
    “Yeah, now we just have to prove it. He just lawyered up.”
    Ferras didn’t respond and in the silence Bosch thought of something. One last thing to attempt.
    “What kind of work gloves are they? Leather, plastic, cotton?”
    “Cotton.”
    Bosch felt a small spark of hope. The gloves and the shirt had been worn by the killer so that he would avoid getting blowback—blood, brains and gunshot residue—on his body. But blowback came in all sizes—including microscopic—and cotton was porous.
    “Okay, I want you to leave the scene,” Bosch said. “Go down to Long Beach and pick up the gun dealer. Bring him up here to RHD .”
    “Pick him up for what?”
    “Just tell him he reported the theft of a weapon and that we’ve recovered it and need him to come downtown to identify it. Keep him in the dark. Just get him down here.”
    “Okay, I’m on it.”
    “Good.”
    Bosch closed the phone.
    “What did they get?” Gunn asked.
    “Everything.”
    He updated her on the phone call and she was immediately apologetic about forgetting about his phone. She knew he could have used the information about the secret compartment to press Blitzstein. It seemed obvious that he would have known about the compartment in his wife’s car, yet he never mentioned it when discussing the precautions she took.
    “Don’t worry about it,” Bosch said. “It’s done.”
    “Then what’s the next move?”
    Bosch didn’t answer at first. He pulled his fold of cash out of his pocket. He had three one-dollar bills. He studied these and asked Gunn if she had any ones. She pulled out some cash and held out two ones.
    Bosch chose one of Gunn’s dollars and gave her one of his in exchange. He then put the dollars in one pocket and returned his cash fold to the other.
    “Okay,” he said. “Now we’ll see what kind of poker player David Blitzstein is.”

    Bosch walked back into the interview room and put his cell phone down on the table in front of Blitzstein.
    “There’s the phone,” he said. “But since you are calling an attorney, I need to read you your constitutional rights and make sure you have a full understanding of them. It’s procedure.”
    “Then let’s get it on,” Blitzstein said. “I want to make the call.”
    Bosch pulled out a business card and sat down at the interview table across from Blitzstein. The card had the rights advisory on the back side. He read it out loud, then had Blitzstein read it and sign it as well. He watched as the suspect signed it with his left hand.
    Bosch pushed the phone across the table to him.
    “Who you going to call?” Bosch asked.
    This seemed to give Blitzstein pause.
    “I don’t know,” he said. “I don’t know any criminal defense attorneys.”
    Bosch looked up at the ceiling as if considering it.
    “Let see… Johnnie Cochran’s dead. And Maury Swann’s in jail. There’s Dan Daly and Roger Mills. Those are good guys. There’s also Mickey Haller. I hear he’s back in business.”
    “Haller. I’ve heard of him. He’s on the TV a lot, so he must be good.”
    Bosch shrugged.
    Blitzstein clicked a button on the phone and then punched in 411. He asked the directory assistance operator for Haller’s number. He then hung up without a thank-you and punched in Haller’s number. Someone answered and transferred him. There was a long silence before Blitzstein had the lawyer of his choice on the line. After a few minutes of short-sentence discussion he clicked off the phone.
    “He’s on the way,” Blitzstein said. “He’ll get me out of here.”
    “That shows a lot of confidence in somebody you’ve never met,” Bosch said.
    “I have to have confidence in somebody. You people are trying to pin this on me.”
    “We look for evidence and it takes us where it takes us. We aren’t looking to pin anything on anybody—unless they deserve it.”
    “Got it.”
    “Anyway, that’s all I’m saying. You asked for a lawyer and we can’t talk about the case anymore. Those are the rules.”
    “Damn right. You can leave now.”
    “Not quite. I have to stay with you until your lawyer gets here. Those are the rules, too. We’ve had a few people hurt themselves after we leave them alone. Then they try to blame us.”
    “You know, that’s not a bad idea. Maybe I should pop myself in the eye and say you did it.”
    “You try that and I’ll make sure you file