The Brass Verdict

finishing dinner in a booth with a movie producer named Mace Neufeld. They were regulars and Mace gave me a nod. He had once tried to option one of my cases for a film but it didn’t work out. I saw Corbin Bernsen in another booth, the actor who had given the best approximation of an attorney I had ever seen on television. And then in another booth, the man himself, Dan Tana, was having a late dinner with his wife. I dropped my eyes to the checkered tablecloth. Enough who’s who. I had to prepare for Bosch. During the drive, I had thought long and hard about what had just happened back at the office and now I only wanted to think about how best to confront Bosch about it. It was like preparing for the cross-examination of a hostile witness.
    Ten minutes after I was seated, Bosch finally appeared in the doorway and Craig led him to me.
    “Get lost?” I asked as he squeezed into the booth.
    “I couldn’t find a parking space.”
    “I guess they don’t pay you enough for valet.”
    “No, valet’s a beautiful thing. But I can’t give my city car to a valet. Against the rules.”
    I nodded, guessing that it was probably because he packed a shotgun in the trunk.
    I decided to wait until after we ordered to make a play with Bosch. I asked if he wanted to look at the menu and he said he was ready to order. When the waiter came, we both ordered the Steak Helen with spaghetti and red sauce on the side. Bosch ordered a beer and I asked for a bottle of flat water.
    “So,” I said, “where’s your partner been lately?”
    “He’s working on other aspects of the investigation.”
    “Well, I guess it’s good to hear there are other aspects to it.”
    Bosch studied me for a long moment before replying.
    “Is that supposed to be a crack?”
    “Just an observation. Doesn’t seem from my end to be much happening.”
    “Maybe that’s because your source dried up and blew away.”
    “My source? I don’t have any source.”
    “Not anymore. I figured out who was feeding your guy and that ended today. I just hope you weren’t paying him for the information because IAD will take him down for that.”
    “I know you won’t believe me, but I have no idea who or what you are talking about. I get information from my investigator. I don’t ask him how he gets it.”
    Bosch nodded.
    “That’s the best way to do it, right? Insulate yourself and then you don’t get any blowback in your face. In the meantime, if a police captain loses his job and pension, those are the breaks.”
    I hadn’t realized Cisco’s source was so highly placed.
    The waiter brought our drinks and a basket of bread. I drank some of the water as I contemplated what to say next. I put the glass down and looked at Bosch. He raised his eyebrows like he was expecting something.
    “How’d you know when I was leaving the office tonight?”
    Bosch looked puzzled.
    “What do you mean?”
    “I figure it was the lights. You were out there on Broadway, and when I killed the lights, you sent your guy into the garage.”
    “I don’t know what you are talking about.”
    “Sure you do. The photo of the guy with the gun coming out of the building. It was a phony. You set it up – choreographed it – and used it to smoke out your leak, then you tried to scam me with it.”
    Bosch shook his head and looked out of the booth as if he were looking for someone to help him interpret what I was saying. It was a bad act.
    “You set up the phony picture and then you showed it to me because you knew it would come back around through my investigator to your leak. You’d know that whoever asked you about the photo was the leak.”
    “I can’t discuss any aspect of the investigation with you.”
    “And then you used it to try to play me. To see if I was hiding something and to scare it out of me.”
    “I told you, I can’t-”
    “Well, you don’t have to, Bosch. I know it’s what you did. You know what your mistakes were? First of all, not coming back like you said you would to show the photo to Vincent’s secretary. If the guy in the picture was legit, you would’ve shown it to her because she knows the clients better than me. Your second mistake was the gun in the waistband of your hit man. Vincent was shot with a twenty-five – too small for a waistband. I missed that when you showed me the photo, but I’ve got it now.”
    Bosch looked toward the bar in the middle of the restaurant. The overhead TV was showing sports highlights. I leaned across