The Last Coyote

intimidated by him. Gordon was becoming a powerful man. More powerful than I. So I said nothing to him. I simply dismantled my campaign and folded my tent. I left the public life and haven’t spoken to Gordon Mittel since that time. More than twenty-five years.”
    “You went into private practice.”
    “Yes. I took up pro bono work as my self-imposed penance for what I was responsible for. I wish I could say it helped suture the wounds of my soul but it did not. I’m a helpless man, Hieronymus. So tell me, did you come here to kill me? Don’t let my story dissuade you from believing I deserve it.”
    The question at first startled Bosch into silence. Finally, he shook his head and spoke.
    “What about Johnny Fox? He had his hooks into you after that night.”
    “Yes, he did. He was very capable as extortionists go.”
    “What happened with him?”
    “I was forced to hire him as a campaign employee, paying him five hundred dollars a week for practically nothing. You see what a farce my life had become? He was killed in a hit and run before picking up his first paycheck.”
    “Mittel?”
    “I would assume that he was responsible, though I must admit he’s a rather convenient scapegoat for all the bad deeds I’ve been involved in.”
    “You didn’t think that it was just a little too coincidental that he got killed?”
    “Things are so much clearer in hindsight.” He shook his head sadly. “At the time I remember being thrilled with my luck. The one thorn in my side had been removed by serendipity. You have to remember, at the time I had no inkling that Marjorie’s death was in any way connected to me. I simply saw Fox as being a man on the make. When he was removed through the luck of an automobile mishap, I was pleased. A deal was made with a reporter to keep Fox’s background on the QT and everything was fine…But, of course, it wasn’t. It never was. Gordon, genius that he was, didn’t plan on me not being able to get over Marjorie. And I’m still not.”
    “What about McCage?”
    “Who?”
    “McCage Incorporated. Your payoffs to the cop. Claude Eno.”
    Conklin was quiet a moment while he composed an answer.
    “Of course, I knew Claude Eno. I didn’t care for him. And I never paid him a dime.”
    “McCage was incorporated in Nevada. It was Eno’s company. You and Mittel are both listed as corporate officers. It was a payoff scam. Eno was getting a grand a month from somewhere. You and Mittel.”
    “No!” Conklin said as forcefully as he could. The word came out as little more than a cough. “I don’t know about McCage. Gordon could have set it up, even signed for me or made me sign unwittingly. As district attorney he took care of things for me. I signed when he told me to sign.”
    He said it while looking directly at Bosch and Harry believed him. Conklin had admitted to far worse deeds. Why would he lie about paying off Eno?
    “What did Mittel do when you folded your tent, when you told him you were through?”
    “By then he was already quite powerful. Politically. His law firm represented the city’s upper tier and his political work was branching out, growing. Still, I was the centerpiece. The plan was to take the attorney general’s office and then the governor’s mansion. Who knows what after that. So Gordon…he was unhappy. I refused to see him but we talked on the phone. When he could not convince me to change my mind, he threatened me.”
    “How?”
    “He told me that if I ever attempted to assault his reputation, he would see to it that I was indicted for Marjorie’s death. And I had no doubt that he could have done it.”
    “From best man to greatest enemy. How’d you ever get hooked up with him?”
    “I guess he slipped in the door while I wasn’t looking. I never saw the real face until it was too late…I don’t think in my life I’ve come across any one as cunningly focused as Gordon. He was-is-a dangerous man. I’m sorry I ever brought your mother into his path.”
    Bosch nodded. He had no more questions and didn’t know what else to say. After a few moments during which Conklin seemed to be lost in thought, the old man spoke up.
    “I think, young man, that you only run into a person that is a perfect fit once in your life. When you find the one that you think fits, then grab on for dear life. And it’s no matter what she’s done in the past. None of that matters. Only the holding on matters.”
    Bosch nodded again. It was all he could think of