The Last Coyote

his briefcase now. He took it out and flipped it open.
    “Yeah, it’s Bosch.”
    “Detective, it’s Dr. Hinojos.”
    “Oh…Hi.”
    “Something wrong?”
    “No, uh, yeah, I was expecting somebody else. I’ve got to keep this line open for a few minutes. I’ve got a call coming in. Can I call you back?”
    Bosch looked at his watch. It was five minutes until six.
    “Yes,” Hinojos said. “I’ll be at the office until six-thirty. I want to talk to you about something, and to see how you fared on the sixth floor after I left.”
    “I’m fine, but I’ll call you back.”
    As soon as he flipped the phone closed, it rang again in his hand.
    “Bosch.”
    “Bosch, I’m up against it and don’t have time for bullshit.” It was Russell. She also didn’t have time to identify herself. “The story is that the investigation into the killing of Harvey Pounds has turned inward and detectives spent several hours with you today. They searched your home and they believe you are the prime suspect.”
    “Prime suspect? We don’t even use those words, Keisha. Now I know you’re talking to one of those squints in IAD. They wouldn’t know how to run a homicide investigation if the doer came up and bit them on their shiny ass.”
    “Don’t try to deflect what we’re talking about here. It’s really simple. Do you or don’t you have a comment on the story for tomorrow’s paper? If you want to say something, I have just enough time to get it in the first run.”
    “On the record, I have no comment.”
    “And off?”
    “Off the record, not for attribution or any use at all, I can tell you that you’re full of shit, Keisha. Your story is wrong. Flat-out wrong. If you run it as you have just summarized it for me, you will have to write another one tomorrow correcting it. It will say I am not a suspect at all. Then, after that, you’ll have to find another beat to cover.”
    “And why is that?” she asked haughtily.
    “Because this is a smear orchestrated by Internal Affairs. It’s a plant. And when it is read tomorrow by everybody else in the department they’ll know it is and they’ll know you fell for it. They won’t trust you. They’ll think you’re just a front for people like Brockman. No one that it is important for you to have a source relationship with will want to have that relationship with you. Including me. You’ll be left covering the police commission and rewriting the press releases out of media relations. And then, of course, whenever Brockman wants to cream somebody else, he’ll pick up the phone and call.”
    There was silence on the line. Bosch looked up at the sky and saw it turning pink with the start of sunset. He looked at his watch. It was one minute until her deadline.
    “You there, Keisha?”
    “Bosch, you’re scaring me.”
    “You should be scared. You got about a minute to make a big decision.”
    “Let me ask you this. Did you attack Pounds two weeks ago and throw him through a window?”
    “On or off the record?”
    “It doesn’t matter. I just need an answer. Quick!”
    “Off the record, that’s more or less accurate.”
    “Well, that would seem to make you a suspect in his death. I don’t see-”
    “Keisha, I’ve been out of the state for three days. I got back today. Brockman brought me in and talked to me for less than an hour. My story checked and I was kicked free. I’m not a suspect. I’m talking to you from the front of my house. You hear that hammering? That’s my house. I’ve got a carpenter here. Are prime suspects allowed to go home at night?”
    “How can I confirm all of this?”
    “Today? You can’t. You’ve got to pick. Brockman or me. Tomorrow, you can call Assistant Chief Irving and he’ll confirm-if he is willing to talk to you.”
    “Shit! Bosch, I can’t believe this. If I go to my editor at deadline and tell him a story that they had budgeted for the front page since the three o’clock meeting is not a story…I might be looking for a new beat and a new paper to cover it for.”
    “There’s other news in the world, Keisha. They can find something for the front page. This will pay off for you in the long run, anyway. I’ll spread the word about you.”
    There was a brief silence while she made her decision.
    “I can’t talk. I have to get in there and grab him. Good-bye, Bosch. I hope I’m still working here the next time we talk.”
    She was gone before he could say good-bye.
    He walked up the street to the Mustang