The Concrete Blonde (hb-3)

called over to Ad-Vice and they said he wasn’t working tonight. I was going to talk to him tomorrow. How’d you do?”
    “I think I’ve got a name. I’ll give Mora a call at home so he can pull what they have on her first thing.”
    He told Edgar the name and heard the other detective laugh.
    “Well, at least it’s original. How-what makes you think it’s her?”
    Bosch answered in a low voice in case his voice was carrying to the bedroom.
    “I saw a loop and I have a box from a video with her picture on it. It looks like the plaster face you got. A little off on the wig. But I think it’s her. I’ll drop the box off on your desk on my way into court tomorrow.”
    “Cool.”
    “Maybe Mora can get an early start on getting her real name and prints over to you. She probably had an adult entertainment license. All right if I call him?”
    “That’s cool. You know him.”
    They hung up. Bosch didn’t have a home number for Mora. He called Detective Services and gave his name and badge number and asked to be put through. It took about five minutes and then Mora answered after three rings. He seemed out of breath.
    “It’s Bosch, you gotta minute?”
    “Bosch, yeah, Bosch, what’s up, man?”
    “How’s business?”
    “Still sucks.”
    He laughed at what Bosch guessed was an insider’s joke.
    “Actually, it goes further down all the time-no pun intended. Video ruined it, Bosch. Made it too big. The industry got big, the quality got small. Nobody cares about quality anymore.”
    Mora was talking more like a supporter of the porno industry than a watchdog.
    “I miss the days when it was in those smoky theaters on Cahuenga and Highland. We had a better handle on things then. At least, I did. So how’s court? I hear you guys caught another one that looks like the Dollmaker. What’s going on with that? How could-”
    “That’s why I’m calling. I’ve got a name-I think she was from your side of the tracks. The victim.”
    “Give it to me.”
    “Magna Cum Loudly. Maybe known as Maggie, too.”
    “Yeah, I’ve heard that one. She was around a while ago and then, you’re right, she disappeared or dropped out.”
    Bosch waited for more. He thought he heard a voice in the background-in person or on TV and Mora told him to hold on a minute. He couldn’t make out what had been said or whether it was a man or a woman. It made him wonder what Mora had been doing when he called. There were rumors floating around the department about Mora having gotten too close to the subject he was expert in. It was a common cop malady. Still, he knew Mora had successfully fended off any attempts to transfer him in the early years of his assignment. Now, he had so much expertise, it would be ridiculous to move him. It would be like taking Orel Hershiser off the Dodgers pitching staff and putting him in the outfield. He was good at what he did. He had to be left there.
    “Um, Harry, I don’t know. I think she was around a couple years ago. What I’m saying is, if it’s her, then it couldn’t have been Church. You know what I’m saying? I don’t know how that plays with what you’ve got working on this.”
    “Don’t worry about it, Ray. If Church didn’t do her, somebody else did. We still gotta get him.”
    “Right. So I’ll get on it. By the way, how’d you make her?”
    Bosch told him about his visit to X Marks the Spot.
    “Yeah, I know them guys. The big one, that’s Carlo Pinzi the capo’s nephew, Jimmie Pinzi. They call him Jimmie Pins. He may act big and dumb but he’s really the little guy Pinkie’s boss. Watches over the place for his uncle. The little one’s called Pinkie on account of those glasses he wears. Pinkie and Pins. It’s all an act. Anyway, they charged you about forty beans too many for that video.”
    “That’s what I guessed. Oh, and I was going to ask you, there’s no copyright on the video box. Would that be on the video or is there any way I can figure out when this was made?”
    “Usually they don’t put the copyright on the box. Customers want fresh meat. So the players figure the customer sees a copyright on the box that’s a couple years old, then they’ll buy something else. It’s a fast business. Perishable goods. So no dates. Sometimes they’re not even on the video cartridge. Anyway, I’ve got catalogs at the office going back twelve years. I can find a date, no problem.”
    “Thanks, Ray. I might not make it by. A guy from the homicide table, Jerry