The Brass Verdict

lying down there at the bottom of the mountain.”
    I pushed his hands off me but settled down. My anger dissipated as I accepted the reality of what Bosch had just said. And the reality that I had been used as a pawn from the beginning. By my client and now by Bosch and the FBI. Bosch took the moment to signal over another agent, who was standing nearby watching.
    “This is Agent Armstead. He’s been running the bureau’s side of things and he’s got some questions for you.”
    “Why not?” I said. “Nobody answers mine. I might as well answer yours.”
    Armstead was a young, clean-cut agent with a precision military haircut.
    “Mr. Haller, we’ll get to your questions as soon as we can,” he said. “Right now we have a fluid situation here and your cooperation will be greatly appreciated. Is juror number seven the man Vincent paid the bribe to?”
    I looked at Bosch with a “who is this guy?” expression.
    “Man, how would I know that? I wasn’t part of this thing. You want an answer to that, go ask him.”
    “Don’t worry. We will be asking him a lot of questions. What were you doing up here, Mr. Haller?”
    “I told you people. I told Bosch. I got a call from somebody who said he was a cop. He said he had a woman I know personally up here and she was under the influence and that I could come up and drive her home and save her the trouble of getting booked on a deuce.”
    “We checked that name you gave me on the phone,” Bosch said. “There is one Randall Morris in the department. He’s on gang detail in South Bureau.”
    I nodded.
    “Yeah, well, I think it’s pretty clear now that it was a fake call. But he knew my friend’s name and he had my cell. It seemed convincing at the time, all right?”
    “How did he get the woman’s name?” Armstead asked.
    “Good question. I had a relationship with her – a platonic relationship – but I haven’t talked to her in almost a month.”
    “Then, how would he know about her?”
    “Man, you’re asking me shit I don’t know. Go ask McSweeney.”
    I immediately realized I had slipped up. I wouldn’t know that name unless I had been investigating juror number seven.
    Bosch looked at me curiously. I didn’t know if he realized the jury was supposed to be anonymous, even to the lawyers on the case. Before he could come up with a question, I was saved by someone yelling from the brush where I had almost been pushed over the side.
    “I’ve got the gun!”
    Bosch pointed a finger at my chest.
    “Stay right here.”
    I watched Bosch and Armstead trot over and join a few of the others as they studied the found weapon under a flashlight beam. Bosch didn’t touch the weapon but bent down into the light to examine it closely.
    The
William Tell
Overture started to play behind me. I turned around and saw my phone lying on the gravel, its tiny square screen glowing like a beacon. I went over and picked it up. It was Cisco and I took the call.
    “Cisco, I gotta call you back.”
    “Make it quick. I’ve got some good shit for you. You’re going to want to know this.”
    I closed the phone and watched as Bosch finished his study of the weapon and then stepped over to McSweeney. He leaned close to him and whispered something into his ear. He didn’t wait for a response. He just turned and walked back toward me. I could tell even in the dim moonlight that he was excited. Armstead was following behind him.
    “The gun’s a Beretta Bobcat, like we were looking for on Vincent,” he said. “If the ballistics match, then we’ve got that guy locked in a box. I’ll make sure you get a commendation from City Hall.”
    “Good. I’ll frame it.”
    “Put this together for me, Haller, and you can start with him being the one who killed Vincent. Why did he want to kill you, too?”
    “I don’t know.”
    “The bribe,” Armstead asked. “Is he the one who got the money?”
    “Same answer I gave you five minutes ago. I don’t know. But it makes sense, doesn’t it?”
    “How did he know your friend’s name on the phone?”
    “I don’t know that either.”
    “Then, what good are you?” Bosch asked.
    It was a good question and the immediate answer didn’t sit well with me.
    “Look, Detective, I-”
    “Don’t bother, man. Why don’t you just get in your car and get the fuck out of here? We’ll take it from here.”
    He turned and started walking away and Armstead followed. I hesitated and then called out to Bosch. I waved him back. He said