The Concrete Blonde (hb-3)

wasn’t at the plaintiff’s table. Church’s widow sat alone, looking straight forward in a prayerful pose.
    Harry sat down next to Belk and said, “What’s up?”
    “We were waiting for you and Chandler. Now we’re just waiting for her. The judge was not happy about it.”
    Bosch saw the judge’s clerk get up from her desk and knock on the chambers door. She then poked her head in and he could hear her say, “Detective Bosch is here. Ms. Chandler’s secretary still hasn’t located her.”
    The constricting feeling in his chest began then. Bosch felt himself immediately begin to sweat. How could he have missed it? He leaned forward and put his face into his hands.
    “I gotta make a call,” he said and stood up.
    Belk turned, probably to tell him not to go anywhere, but was silenced by the opening of the chambers door. Judge Keyes strode out and said, “Remain seated.”
    He took his place on the bench and told the clerk to buzz the jury in. Bosch sat down.
    “We’re going to go ahead and get them started again without Ms. Chandler being here. We’ll deal with her tardiness at a later date.”
    The jury filed in and the judge asked them if anybody had anything they wanted to bring up, a scheduling problem or anything else. No one said a word.
    “All right then, we’re going to send you back in to continue deliberations. The marshal will come speak to you later about lunch. By the way, Ms. Chandler had a scheduling conflict this morning and that’s why you don’t see her there at the plaintiff’s table. You are to pay no mind to that. Thank you very much.”
    They filed back out. The judge instructed the parties who were present to stay within fifteen minutes of the courtroom again, then told the clerk to keep trying to find Chandler. With that, he stood up and walked back to his chambers.
    Bosch was up quickly and out the door of the courtroom. He went to the pay phones and dialed the communications center. After giving his name and badge number, he asked the phone clerk to run a code-three DMV search on the name Honey Chandler. He said he needed the address and would hold.

    * * *

    The rover would not work until he was out of the courthouse underground garage. Once he was out on Los Angeles Street he tried again and got hold of Edgar, who had his rover on. He gave him the Carmelina Street address in Brentwood he had gotten for Chandler.
    “Meet me there.”
    “On my way.”
    He drove down to Third and took it up through the tunnel and onto the Harbor Freeway. He was just hitting the Santa Monica Freeway when his pager sounded. He looked at the number while driving and didn’t recognize it. He exited the freeway and pulled over at a Korea Town grocery store with a phone on the wall out front.
    “Courtroom four,” said the woman who answered his call.
    “It’s Detective Bosch, did someone beep me?”
    “Yes, we did. We have a verdict. You need to get back here right away.”
    “What do you mean? I was just there. How’d they-”
    “It’s not unusual, Detective Bosch. They probably came to an agreement Friday and decided to take the weekend to see if they wanted to change their minds. Look, it gets them out of another day of work.”
    Back in the car, he picked up the rover again.
    “Edgar, you there?”
    “Uh, not quite. You?”
    “I gotta turn around. Got a verdict. Can you check this out?”
    “No problem. What am I checking out?”
    “It’s Chandler’s house. She’s blonde. She didn’t show up in court today.”
    “I get the picture.”

    * * *

    Bosch had never thought he would hope to see Honey Chandler in court at the table opposite his but he did. She wasn’t there, though. A man Harry didn’t recognize was sitting with the plaintiff.
    As he walked to the defense table, Bosch saw that a couple of reporters, including Bremmer, were already in the courtroom.
    “Who’s that?” he asked Belk about the man next to the widow.
    “Dan Daly. Keyes grabbed him out of the hallway to sit with the woman during the verdict. Chandler is apparently incommunicado. They can’t find her.”
    “Anybody go to her house?”
    “I don’t know. I assume they called. What do you care? You should be worried about this verdict.”
    Judge Keyes came out then and took his place. He nodded to the clerk, who buzzed the jury. As the twelve filed in, none of them looked at Bosch but almost all of them eyed the man sitting next to Deborah Church.
    “Again, folks,” the judge began, “a