The Last Coyote

suit. And he reached down and grabbed me by the wrist. I was just a scrawny little runt. It was easy for him to do. He pulled me out and he gave me this towel to put on my shoulders and he led me over to a chair and he told me…he told me that my mother was dead. Murdered. He said they didn’t know who did it, but whoever he was, he left his fingerprints. He said, ‘Don’t worry, son, we got the fingerprints and they’re as good as gold. We’ll get him.’ I remember those words exactly. ‘We’ll get him.’ Only they never did. And now I’m going to. That’s my story, Hirsch.”
    Hirsch’s eyes dropped down to the yellowed print card on the keyboard.
    “Look, man, it’s a bad story, but I can’t be doing this. I’m sorry.”
    Bosch stared at him a moment and then slowly stood up.
    “Don’t forget the card,” Hirsch said.
    He picked it up and held it up to Bosch.
    “I’ll leave it here. You’re going to do the right thing, Hirsch. I can tell.”
    “No, don’t. I can’t do-”
    “I’m leaving it here!”
    The power of his voice shocked even Bosch and it seemed to have scared Hirsch. The print tech replaced the card on the keyboard. After a few seconds of silence Bosch leaned down and spoke quietly.
    “Everybody wants the chance to do the right thing, Hirsch. It makes them feel good inside. Even if doing it doesn’t exactly fit inside the rules, sometimes you have to rely on the voice inside that tells you what to do.”
    Bosch stood back up and took out his wallet and a pen. He pulled out a business card and wrote some numbers on it. He put it down on the keyboard next to the print card.
    “That’s got my portable and my home on it. Don’t bother calling the office, you know I won’t be there. I’ll be waiting to hear from you, Hirsch.”
    He walked slowly out of the lab.

Chapter Sixteen
    WAITING FOR THE elevator, Bosch guessed that his effort to persuade Hirsch had fallen on deaf ears. Hirsch was the type of guy whose exterior scars masked deeper interior wounds. There were a lot in the department like him. Hirsch had grown up intimidated by his own face. He’d probably be the last person to dare go outside the bounds of his job or the rules. Another department automaton. For him, doing the right thing was ignoring Bosch. Or turning him in.
    He punched at the elevator button with his finger again and contemplated what else he could do. The AFIS search was a long shot but he still wanted it done. It was a loose end and any thorough investigation took care of loose ends. He decided he would give Hirsch a day and then he’d make another run at him. If that didn’t work, he’d try another tech. He’d try them all until he got the killer’s prints into that machine.
    The elevator finally opened and he squeezed on. That was one of the only things you could rely on inside Parker Center. Cops would come and go, chiefs, even political power structures, but the elevators would always move slowly and always be crowded when they got to you. Bosch pushed the unlighted button marked B as the doors slowly closed and the square room started to descend. While everyone stood and stared blankly at the lighted numbers over the door, Bosch looked down at his briefcase. No one in the small space spoke. Until, as the car slowed to its next stop, Bosch heard his first name spoken from behind. He turned his head slightly, not sure if it had been someone speaking to him or the name had been directed toward someone else.
    His eyes fell on Assistant Chief Irvin S. Irving standing in the rear of the elevator. They exchanged nods just as the doors opened on the first floor. Bosch wondered if Irving had seen him push the button for the basement. There was no reason for a man on involuntary stress leave to be going to the basement.
    Bosch decided the car was too crowded for Irving to have seen what button he had pushed. He stepped off the elevator into the alcove off the main lobby and Irving followed him out and caught up with him.
    “Chief.”
    “What brings you all the way in, Harry?”
    It was said casually but the question signaled that there was more than passing interest from Irving. They started walking toward the exit, Bosch quickly putting a story together.
    “I have to go over to Chinatown anyway, so I dropped by to go to payroll. I wanted to see about them sending my check to my house instead of out to Hollywood, since I’m not sure when I’ll be back.”
    Irving nodded and Bosch was pretty