The Brass Verdict

“Here at the bungalow.”
    “Okay, I’ll be there. And cancel whatever you have at five. We’re going to need at least a couple hours to start.”
    Elliot agreed to the two hours and we were about to end the conversation, when I thought of something else.
    “Walter, I want to see the crime scene. Can I get into the house in Malibu tomorrow sometime before we meet?”
    Again there was a pause.
    “When?”
    “You tell me what will work.”
    Again he covered the phone and I heard his muffled conversation with Mrs. Albrecht. Then he came back on the line with me.
    “How about eleven? I’ll have someone meet you there to let you in.”
    “That’ll work. See you tomorrow, Walter.”
    I closed the phone and looked at Cisco in the mirror.
    “We got him.”
    Cisco hit the Lincoln’s horn in celebration. It was a long blast that made the driver in front of us hold up a fist and send us back the finger. Out in the street the striking writers took the blast as a sign of support from inside the hated studio. I heard a loud cheer go up from the masses.

Fifteen
    Bosch arrived early the next morning. He was alone. His peace offering was the extra cup of coffee he carried and handed over to me. I don’t drink coffee anymore – trying to avoid any addiction in my life – but I took it from him anyway, thinking that maybe the smell of caffeine would get me going. It was only 7:45 but I had been in Jerry Vincent’s office for more than two hours already.
    I led Bosch back into the file room. He looked more tired than I felt and I was pretty sure he was in the same suit he’d been wearing when I saw him the day before.
    “Long night?” I asked.
    “Oh, yeah.”
    “Chasing leads or chasing tail?”
    It was a question I had once heard one detective ask another in a courthouse hallway. I guess it was a question reserved for brothers of the badge because it didn’t go over so well with Bosch. He made some sort of guttural noise and didn’t answer.
    In the file room I told him to have a seat at the small table. There was a yellow legal tablet on the table, but no files. I took the other seat and put my coffee down.
    “So,” I said, picking up the legal pad.
    “So,” Bosch said when I offered nothing else.
    “So I met with Judge Holder in chambers yesterday and worked out a plan by which we can give you what you need from the files without actually giving you the files.”
    Bosch shook his head.
    “What’s wrong?” I asked.
    “You should’ve told me this yesterday at Parker Center,” he said. “I wouldn’t have wasted my time.”
    “I thought you’d appreciate this.”
    “It’s not going to work.”
    “How do you know that? How can you be sure?”
    “How many homicides have you investigated, Haller? And how many have you cleared?”
    “All right, point taken. You’re the homicide guy. But I am certainly capable of reviewing files and discerning what constituted a legitimate threat to Jerry Vincent. Possibly because of my experience as a criminal defense attorney I could even perceive a threat that you would miss in your capacity as a detective.”
    “So you say.”
    “Yeah, I say.”
    “Look, all I’m pointing out here is the obvious. I’m the detective. I’m the one who should look through the files because I know what I am looking for. No offense, but you are an amateur at this. So I’m in a position here where I have to take what an amateur is giving me and trust that I’m getting everything there is to get from the files. It doesn’t work that way. I don’t trust the evidence unless I find it myself.”
    “Again, your point is well taken, Detective, but this is the way it is. This is the only method Judge Holder approved, and I gotta tell you that you’re lucky to get this much. She wasn’t interested in helping you out at all.”
    “So you’re saying you went to bat for me?”
    He said it in a disbelieving, sarcastic tone, as if it were some sort of a mathematical impossibility for a defense attorney to help a police detective.
    “That’s right,” I said defiantly. “I went to bat for you. I told you yesterday, Jerry Vincent was a friend. I’d like to see you take down the person who took him down.”
    “You’re probably worried about your own ass, too.”
    “I’m not denying that.”
    “If I were you I would be.”
    “Look, do you want the list or not?”
    I held the legal pad up as if I were teasing a dog with a toy. He reached for it and I pulled it back,