The Reversal

into what the suspect was doing on his frequent visits to the mountainside parks. Bosch decided to move on down Mulholland to Franklin Canyon.
    But Franklin Canyon Park offered him the same thing, a large natural respite in the midst of a teeming city. Bosch found the picnic area Shipley and the SIS reports had described but once again didn’t understand the pull the park had for Jessup. He found the terminus of Blinderman Trail and walked it until his legs started to hurt because of the incline. He turned around and headed back to the parking and picnic area, still puzzled by Jessup’s activities.
    On his return Bosch passed a large old sycamore that the trail had been routed around. He noticed a buildup of a grayish-white material at the base of the tree between two fingers of exposed roots. He looked closer and realized it was wax. Somebody had burned a candle.
    There were signs all over the park warning against smoking or the use of matches, as fire was the park’s greatest threat. But somebody had lit a candle at the base of the tree.
    Bosch wanted to call Shipley to ask if Jessup could have lit a candle while in the park the night before, but knew it was the wrong move. Shipley had just come off a night of surveillance and was probably in his bed asleep. Harry would wait for the evening to make the call.
    He looked around the tree for any other signs that Jessup had possibly been in the area. It looked like an animal had burrowed recently in a few spots under the tree. But otherwise there was no sign of activity.
    As he came off the trail and into the clearing where the picnic area was located, Bosch saw a city parks ranger looking into a trash can from which he had removed the top. Harry approached him.
    “Officer?”
    The man whipped around, still holding the top of the trash can away from his body.
    “Yes, sir!”
    “Sorry, I didn’t mean to sneak up on you. I was… I was walking up on that trail and there’s a big tree there—I think a sycamore—and it looks like somebody burned a candle down at its base. I was wondering—”
    “Where?”
    “Up on Blinderman Trail.”
    “Show me.”
    “Actually, I’m not going to go all the way back up there. I don’t have the right shoes. It’s the big tree in the middle of the trail. I’m sure you can find it.”
    “You can’t light fires in the park!”
    The ranger put the top back on the trash can, banging it loudly to underline his statement.
    “I know. That’s why I was reporting it. But I wanted to ask you, is there anything special about that tree that would make somebody do that?”
    “Every tree is special here. The whole park is special.”
    “Yes, I get that. Can you just tell—”
    “Can I see some ID, please?”
    “Excuse me?”
    “ID. I want to see some ID. A man in a shirt and tie walking the trails with ‘the wrong shoes’ is a little bit suspicious to me.”
    Bosch shook his head and pulled out his badge wallet.
    “Yeah, here’s my ID.”
    He opened it and held it out and gave the ranger a few moments to study it. Bosch saw the nameplate on his uniform said Brorein.
    “Okay?” Bosch said. “Can we get to my questions now, Officer Brorein?”
    “I’m a city ranger, not an officer,” Brorein said. “Is this part of an investigation?”
    “No, it’s part of a situation where you just answer my questions about the tree up on that trail.”
    Bosch pointed in the direction he had come from.
    “You get it now?” he asked.
    Brorein shook his head.
    “I’m sorry but you’re on my turf here and it’s my obligation to—”
    “No, pal, you’re actually on my turf. But thanks for all the help. I’ll make a note of it in the report.”
    Bosch walked away from him and headed back toward the parking clearing. Brorein called after him.
    “As far as I know, there’s nothing special about that tree. It’s just a tree, Detective Borsh.”
    Bosch waved without looking back. He added poor reading skills to the list of things he didn’t like about Brorein.

Seventeen
    Wednesday, February 24, 2:15 P.M .
    M y successes as a defense attorney invariably came when the prosecution was unprepared for and surprised by my moves. The entire government grinds along on routine. Prosecuting violators of the government’s laws is no different. As a newly minted prosecutor I took this to heart and vowed not to succumb to the comfort and dangers of routine. I promised myself that I would be more than ready for clever Clive Royce’s