The Brass Verdict

like somebody being held hostage while he went and got the money. A ransom or something like that. Vincent said everything was fine, that he needed the money to buy a boat and that if he made the deal in cash, he would get the best deal and save a lot of money.”
    “So where’s the boat?”
    “There is no boat. The story was a lie.”
    “Are you sure?”
    “We’ve checked all state transactions and asked questions all over Marina del Rey and San Pedro. We can’t find any boat. We’ve searched his home twice and reviewed his credit-card purchases. No receipts or records of boat-related expenses. No photos, no keys, no fishing poles. No coast guard registration – required on a transaction that large. He didn’t buy a boat.”
    “What about Mexico?”
    Bosch shook his head.
    “This guy hadn’t left L.A. in nine months. He didn’t go down to Mexico and he didn’t go anywhere else. I’m telling you, he didn’t buy a boat. We would’ve found it. He bought something else and your client Walter Elliot probably knows what it was.”
    I tracked his logic and could see it coming to the doorway of Walter Elliot. But I wasn’t going to open it with Bosch looking over my shoulder.
    “I think you’ve got it wrong, Detective.”
    “I don’t think so, Counselor.”
    “Well, I can’t help you. I have no idea about this and have seen no indication of it in any of the books or records I’ve got. If you can connect this alleged bribe to my client, then arrest him and charge him. Otherwise, I’ll tell you right now he’s off limits. He’s not talking to you about this or anything else.”
    Bosch shook his head.
    “I wouldn’t waste my time trying to talk to him. He used his lawyer as cover on this and I’ll never be able to get past the attorney-client protection. But you should take it as a warning, Counselor.”
    “Yeah, how’s that?”
    “Simple. His lawyer got killed, not him. Think about it. And remember, that little trickle on the back of your neck and running down your spine? That’s the feeling you get when you know you have to look over your shoulder. When you know you’re in danger.”
    I smiled back at him.
    “Oh, is that what that is? I thought it was the feeling I get when I know I’m being bullshitted.”
    “I’m only telling you the truth.”
    “You’ve been running a game on me for two days. Spinning bullshit about bribes and the FBI. You’ve been trying to manipulate me and it’s been a waste of my time. You have to go now, Detective, because I have real work to do.”
    I stood up and extended a hand toward the door. Bosch stood up but didn’t turn to go.
    “Don’t kid yourself, Haller. Don’t make a mistake.”
    “Thanks for the advice.”
    Bosch finally turned and started to leave. But then he stopped and came back to the desk, pulling something from the inside pocket of his jacket as he approached.
    It was a photograph. He put it down on the desk.
    “You recognize that man?” Bosch asked.
    I studied the photo. It was a grainy still taken off a video. It showed a man pushing out through the front door of an office building.
    “This is the front entrance of the Legal Center, isn’t it?”
    “Do you recognize him?”
    The shot was taken at a distance and blown up, spreading the pixels of the image and making it unclear. The man in the photograph looked to me to be of Latin origin. He had dark skin and hair and had a Poncho Villa mustache, like Cisco used to wear. He wore a panama hat and an open-collared shirt beneath what appeared to be a leather sport coat. As I looked more closely at the photograph, I realized why it was the frame they had chosen to take from the surveillance video. The man’s jacket had pulled open as he’d pushed through the glass door. I could see what looked like the top of a pistol tucked into the belt line of his pants.
    “Is that a gun? Is this the killer?”
    “Look, can you answer one goddamn question without another question? Do you recognize this man? That’s all I want to know.”
    “No, I don’t, Detective. Happy?”
    “That’s another question.”
    “Sorry.”
    “You sure you haven’t seen him before?”
    “Not a hundred percent. But that’s not a great photo you’ve got there. Where is it from?”
    “A street camera on Broadway and Second. It sweeps the street and we got this guy for only a few seconds. This is the best we can do.”
    I knew that the city had been quietly installing street cameras on main arteries