The Concrete Blonde (hb-3)

Edgar, might come by to see you. I got court.”
    “That’s fine, Harry.”
    Bosch had nothing else to ask and was about to say good-bye when Mora spoke in the silence.
    “You know, I think about it a lot.”
    “What?”
    “The task force. I wish I hadn’t taken off early that night and I was there with you. Who knows, maybe we’d have gotten this guy alive.”
    “Yeah.”
    “Be no trial then-I mean, for you.”
    Bosch was silent as he looked at the picture on the back of video box. The woman’s face turned to the side, just like the plaster face. It was her. He felt sure of it.
    “Ray, with only this name-Magna Cum Loudly-can you still get a real name, get prints?”
    “Sure can. No matter what anybody thinks of the product, there is legit stuff and illegit stuff out there. This girl Maggie looks like she had graduated to the legit world. She was out of loops and that shit and was in mainstream adult video. That means she probably had an agent, had an adult entertainment license. They gotta get ‘em to prove they’re eighteen. So her license will have her real name on it. I can go through them and find her-they got their pictures on them. Might take me a couple hours but I can find her.”
    “Okay, good, will you do that in the morning and, if Edgar doesn’t come by, get the prints to him at Hollywood homicide?”
    “Jerry Edgar. I’ll do it.”
    Neither spoke for a few moments as they thought about what they were doing.
    “Hey, Harry?”
    “Yeah.”
    “The paper said that there was a new note, that true?”
    “Yeah.”
    “Is it legit? Did we fuck up?”
    “I don’t know yet, Ray, but I appreciate you saying ‘we.’ A lot of people just want to point at me.”
    “Yeah, listen, I ought to tell you, I got subpoenaed today by that Money bitch.”
    It didn’t surprise Bosch, since Mora had been on the Dollmaker task force.
    “Don’t worry about it. She’s probably papered everybody who was on the task force.”
    “Okay.”
    “But try to keep this new stuff under your hat if you can.”
    “As long as I can.”
    “She’s got to know what to ask before she can ask it. I’m just looking for some time to work with this, see what it means.”
    “No problem, man. You and I both know the right guy went down. No doubt about that, Harry.”
    But saying it out loud like that put a doubt to it, Bosch knew. Mora was wondering the same things Bosch was.
    “You need me to drop this video box off tomorrow so you know what she looks like before flipping through the files?”
    “No, like I said, we’ve got all sorts of catalogs. I’ll just look up
Tails from the Crypt
and get it from there. If that don’t work I’ll go through the agency books.”
    They hung up and Bosch lit a cigarette, though Sylvia didn’t like him doing it in the house. It wasn’t that she had a problem with his smoking but she thought potential buyers might be turned off if they thought it had been a smoker’s house. He sat there alone for several minutes, peeling the label off the empty beer bottle and thinking about how quickly things could change. Believe something for four years and then find out you might be wrong.
    He brought a bottle of Buehler zinfandel and two glasses into the bedroom. Sylvia was in bed with the covers pulled up to her naked shoulders. She had a lamp on and was reading a book called
Never Let Them See You Cry
. Bosch walked to her side of the bed and sat down next to her. He poured out two glasses, they tapped them together and sipped.
    “To victory in court,” she said.
    “Sounds good to me.”
    They kissed.
    “Were you smoking out there again?”
    “Sorry.”
    “Was it bad news? The calls?”
    “No. Just bullshit.”
    “You want to talk?”
    “Not now.”
    He went into the bathroom with his glass and took a quick shower. The wine, which had been beautiful, tasted terrible after he brushed his teeth. When he came out, the reading light was out and the book put away. There were candles burning on both night tables and the bureau. They were in silver votive candle holders with crescent moons and stars cut out on the sides. The flickering flames threw blurry, moving patterns on the walls and curtains and in the mirror, like a silent cacophony.
    She lay propped on three pillows, the covers off. He stood naked at the foot of the bed for a few moments and they smiled at each other. She was beautiful to him, her body tan and almost girlish. She was thin, with small breasts and a small, flat