The Last Coyote

described by most people as Mittel’s personal valet.”
    Bosch nodded and put the information away.
    “There’s also a driver. We picked him up but he isn’t saying much. A little surfer punk. He couldn’t talk if he wanted to anyway.”
    “What do you mean?”
    “His jaw is broken. Wired shut. He won’t talk about that, either.”
    Bosch just nodded again and looked at him. There didn’t seem to be anything hidden in what he had said.
    “The doctor said you have a severe concussion but the skull is not fractured. Minor laceration.”
    “Could’ve fooled me. My head feels like the Goodyear blimp with a hole in it.”
    “How many stitches?”
    “I think he said eighteen.”
    “He said you’ll probably have headaches and keep the knot up there and the eye hemorrhages for a few days. It’ll look worse than it is.”
    “Well, nice to know he’s telling somebody what’s going on. I haven’t heard anything from him. Just the nurses.”
    “He’ll be in in a minute. He was probably waiting for you to come out of it a little more.”
    “Come out of what?”
    “You were a little dazed when we got up there to you, Harry. You sure you want to talk about this now? It can wait. You’re hurt and need to take it-”
    “I’m okay. I want to talk. You been by the scene at Park La Brea?”
    “Yes, I was there. I was there when we got the call from Mount Olympus. I’ve got your briefcase in the car, by the way. You left it there, didn’t you? With Conklin?”
    He started to nod but stopped because it made things swirl.
    “Good,” he said. “There’s something there I want to keep.”
    “The photo?”
    “You looked through it?”
    “Bosch! You must be groggy. It was found at the scene of a crime.”
    “Yeah, I know, sorry.”
    He waved off his objection. He was tired of fighting.
    “So, the crew working the scene up on the hill already told me what happened. At least, the early version based on the physicals. What I’m not clear about is what got you up there. You know, how all of this figures. You want to run it down for me or wait until maybe tomorrow?”
    Bosch nodded once and waited a moment for his mind to clear. He hadn’t tried to collect the story into one cohesive thought yet. He thought about it some more and finally gave it a shot.
    “I’m ready.”
    “Okay, I want to read you your rights first.”
    “What, again?”
    “It’s just a procedure so it doesn’t look like we’re cutting any slack to one of our own. You’ve got to remember, you were at two places tonight and at both somebody took a big fall. It doesn’t look good.”
    “I didn’t kill Conklin.”
    “I know that and we have the security guard’s statement. He says you left before Conklin took the dive. So you’re gonna be okay. You’re clear but I have to follow procedure. Now, you still want to talk?”
    “I waive my rights.”
    Irving read them to him from a card anyway and Bosch waived them again.
    “Okay, then, I don’t have a waive form. You’ll have to sign that later.”
    “You want me to tell the story?”
    “Yes, I want you to tell the story.”
    “Okay, here we go.”
    But then he stopped as he tried to put it into words.
    “Harry?”
    “Okay, here it is. In 1961 Arno Conklin met Marjorie Lowe. He was introduced by local scumbucket Johnny Fox, who made his living off making such introductions and arrangements. Usually for money. This initial meeting between Arno and Marjorie was at the St. Pat’s party at the Masonic Lodge on Cahuenga.”
    “That’s the photo in the briefcase, right?”
    “Right. Now, at that first meeting, according to Arno ’s story, which I believe, he didn’t know that Marjorie was a pro and Fox was a pimp. Fox arranged the introduction because he probably saw the opportunity and had one eye on the future. See, if Conklin knew it was a pay-to-play sort of thing, he would have walked away. He was the top county vice commando. He would have walked away.”
    “So he didn’t know who Fox was either?” Irving asked.
    “That’s what he said. He just said he was innocent. If you find that hard to take, the alternative is harder; that this prosecutor would openly consort with these types of people. So, I’m going with Arno ’s story. He didn’t know.”
    “Okay, he didn’t know he was being compromised. So what was in it for Fox and…your mother?”
    “Fox is easy. Once Conklin went with her, Fox had a nice hook into him and he could reel him in whenever he