The Concrete Blonde (hb-3)

ago?”
    “Because I realize now that there are things more important than what twelve of my so-called peers think. Even if, as peers, they wouldn’t give me the time of day on the street.”
    Belk looked at his watch and said, “Leave me alone, Bosch. We start in ten minutes and I want to be ready. I’m still working on my argument. I’m going to go shorter than even Keyes demanded.”
    Earlier in the trial, the judge had determined that closing arguments would be no longer than a half hour for each side. This was to be divided, with the plaintiff-in the person of Chandler-arguing for twenty minutes followed by the defendant’s lawyer-Belk-delivering his entire thirty-minute argument. The plaintiff would then be allowed the last ten minutes. Chandler would have first and last word, another sign, Bosch believed, that the system was stacked against him.
    Bosch looked over at the plaintiff’s table and saw Deborah Church sitting there by herself, eyes focused straight ahead. The two daughters were in the first row of the gallery behind her. Chandler was not there but there were files and yellow pads laid out on the table. She was around.
    “You work on your speech,” he said to Belk. “I’ll leave you alone.”
    “Don’t be late coming back. Not again, please.”

    * * *

    As he had hoped, Chandler was outside smoking by the statue. She gave him a cold glance, said nothing and then took a few steps away from the ash can in order to ignore him. She had on her blue suit-it was probably her lucky suit-and the one tress of blonde hair was loose from the braid at the back of her neck.
    “Rehearsing?” Bosch asked.
    “I don’t need to rehearse. This is the easy part.”
    “I suppose.”
    “What’s that mean?”
    “I don’t know. I suppose you’re freer from the constraints of law during the arguments. Not as many rules of what you can and can’t say. I think that’s when you’d be in your element.”
    “Very perceptive.”
    That was all she said. There was no indication that she knew her arrangement with Edgar had been discovered. Bosch had been counting on that when he rehearsed what he was going to say to her. After waking from his brief sleep, he had looked at the events of the night before with a fresh mind and eyes and had seen something that was missed before. It was now his intention to play her. He had thrown her the soft pitch. Now he had a curve.
    “When this is over,” he said, “I’d like the note.”
    “What note?”
    “The note the follower sent you.”
    A look of shock hit her face but was then quickly erased with the indifferent look she normally gave him. But she had not been quick enough. He had seen the look in her eyes, she sensed danger. He knew then he had her.
    “It’s evidence,” he said.
    “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Detective Bosch. I need to get back inside.”
    She stubbed a half-smoked cigarette with a lipstick print on the butt into the ash can, then took two steps toward the door.
    “I know about Edgar. I saw you with him last night.”
    That stopped her. She turned around and looked at him.
    “The Hung Jury. A Bloody Mary at the bar.”
    She weighed her response and then said, “Whatever he told you, I’m sure it was designed to place him in the best light. I would be careful if you are planning to go public with it.”
    “I’m not going public with anything... unless you don’t give me the note. Withholding evidence of a crime is a crime in itself. But I don’t need to tell you that.”
    “Whatever Edgar told you about a note is a lie. I told him noth-”
    “And he told me nothing about a note. He didn’t need to. I figured it out. You called him Monday after the body was found because you already knew about it and knew it was connected to the Dollmaker. I wondered how, and then it was clear. We got a note but that was secret until the next day. The only one who found out was Bremmer but his story said you couldn’t be reached for comment. That was because you were out meeting Edgar. He said you called that afternoon asking about the body. You asked if we got a note. That was because you got a note, Counselor. And I need to see it. If it is different from the one we got, it could be helpful.”
    She looked at her watch and quickly lit another cigarette.
    “I can get a warrant,” he said.
    She laughed a fake sort of laugh.
    “I’d like to see you get a warrant. I’d like to see the judge in this town who would sign a