The Concrete Blonde (hb-3)

more legitimacy in the eyes of the jury. If she had just presented her own, my lawyer could’ve gotten it shot down. I don’t know. It’s just a guess.”
    Edgar nodded.
    “By the way,” Bosch said, “how’d you get in when you got here?”
    “Front door was unlocked. No scratches on the lock or other signs of break-in.”
    “The Follower came here and was let in... She wasn’t lured to him. Something’s going on. He’s changing. He’s biting and burning. He’s making mistakes. He’s letting something get to him. Why’d he go for her, rather than stick to his pattern of ordering victims from the sex tabs?”
    “Too bad Locke’s the fucking suspect. It’d be nice to ask him what all this means.”
    “Detective Harry Bosch!” a voice called from downstairs. “Harry Bosch!”
    Bosch walked to the top of the stairs and looked down. A young patrolman, the one who was keeping the scene attendance log at the tape, stood in the entry area looking up.
    “Guy at the tape wants to come in. Said he’s a shrink who’s been working with you.”
    Bosch looked over at Edgar. Their eyes locked. He looked back down at the patrolman.
    “What’s his name?”
    The patrolman looked down at his clipboard and read off, “John Locke, from USC.”
    “Send him in.”
    Bosch started down the stairs and beckoned to Edgar with his hand. He said, “I’m taking him into her office. Tell Hans Off and then come down.”
    Bosch told Locke to sit in the chair behind the desk while he chose to stay standing. Through the window behind the psychologist, Bosch saw the press gathering into a tight group in preparation for a briefing by someone from media relations.
    “Don’t touch anything,” Bosch said. “What’re you doing here?”
    “I came as soon as I heard,” Locke said. “But I thought you said you had the suspect under surveillance.”
    “We did. It was the wrong guy. How did you hear?”
    “It’s all over the radio. I heard it while I was driving in and came right here. They didn’t put out the exact address but once I got to Carmelina this wasn’t hard to find. Just follow the helicopters.”
    Edgar slipped into the room then and closed the door.
    “Detective Jerry Edgar, meet Dr. John Locke.”
    Edgar nodded but made no move to shake his hand. He stayed back, leaning against the door.
    “Where’ve you been? We’ve been trying to find you since yesterday.”
    “Vegas.”
    “Vegas? Why’d you go to Vegas?”
    “Why else, to gamble. I’m also thinking about a book project on the legal prostitutes that work in the towns north of-look, aren’t we wasting time here? I’d like to view the body in situ. Then I could give you a read on it.”
    “Body’s already moved, Doc,” Edgar said.
    “It is? Shit. Maybe I could survey the scene and-”
    “We’ve already got too many people up there right now,” Bosch said. “Maybe later. What do you make of bite marks? Cigarette burns?”
    “Are you saying that’s what you’ve found this time?”
    “Plus, it wasn’t a bimbo from the sex tabs,” Edgar added. “He came here, she didn’t come to him.”
    “He is changing quickly. It appears to be complete disassembling. Or some unknown force or reason compelling his actions.”
    “Such as?” Bosch asked.
    “I don’t know.”
    “We tried to call you in Vegas. You never checked in.”
    “Oh, the Stardust? Well, coming in I saw the new MGM had just opened and decided to see if they had a room. They did. I was there.”
    “Anyone with you?” Bosch asked.
    “The whole time?” Edgar added.
    A puzzled look came over Locke’s face.
    “What is going-”
    He understood now. He shook his head.
    “Harry, are you kidding?”
    “No. Are you, coming here like this?”
    “I think you-”
    “No, don’t answer that. Tell you what, it would probably be best for all of us if you know your rights before we go any further. Jerry, you got a card?”
    Edgar pulled out his wallet and from it took a white plastic card with the Miranda warning printed on it. He started reading it to Locke. Both Bosch and Edgar knew the warning by heart but a departmental memo that was distributed with the plastic card said it was best practice to read directly from a card. This made it difficult for a defense attorney to later attack in court how the police administered the rights warning to a client.
    As Edgar read the card, Bosch looked out the window at the huge clot of reporters standing around one of the deputy chiefs.