The Reversal

guys, the powers that be have put me in the first chair. That’s the way it is and we can either accept it or not. I took this job and asked for you. If you don’t think we—”
    “I just don’t like the idea of carrying your briefcase through this whole thing,” Maggie said.
    “You won’t be. Look, press conferences and outward appearances are one thing, but I fully assume that we’ll be working as a tag team. You’ll be conducting just as much of the investigation as I will be, probably more. The trial should be no different. We’ll come up with a strategy and choreograph it together. But you have to give me a little credit. I know my way around a courtroom. I’ll just be sitting at the other table this time.”
    “That’s where you’re wrong, Mickey. On the defense side you have a responsibility to one person. Your client. When you are a prosecutor, you represent the people and that is a lot more responsibility. That’s why they call it the burden of proof. ”
    “Whatever. If you’re saying I shouldn’t be doing this, then I’m not the guy you should be complaining to. Go down the hall and talk to your boss. But if he kicks me off the case, you get kicked as well, and then you go back to Van Nuys for the rest of your career. Is that what you want?”
    She didn’t answer and that was an answer in itself.
    “Okay, then,” I said. “Let’s just try to get through this without pulling each other’s hair out, okay? Remember, I’m not here to count convictions and advance my career. For me, it’s one and done. So we both want the same thing. Yes, you will have to help me. But you will also be helping—”
    My phone started vibrating. I had left it out on the table. I didn’t recognize the number on the screen but took the call, just to get away from the conversation with Maggie.
    “Haller.”
    “Hey, Mick, how’d I do?”
    “Who is this?”
    “Sticks.”
    Sticks was a freelance videographer who fed footage to the local news channels and sometimes even the bigs. I had known him so long I didn’t even remember his real name.
    “How’d you do at what, Sticks? I’m busy here.”
    “At the press conference. I set you up, man.”
    I realized that it had been Sticks behind the lights, throwing the questions to me.
    “Oh, yeah, yeah, you did good. Thanks for that.”
    “Now you’re going to take care of me on the case, right? Give me the heads-up if there’s something for me, right? Something exclusive.”
    “Yeah, no need to worry, Sticks. I got you covered. But I gotta go.”
    I ended the call and put the phone back on the table. Maggie was typing something into her laptop. It looked like the momentary discontent had passed and I was hesitant to touch it again.
    “That was a guy who works for the news stations. He might be useful to us at some point.”
    “We don’t want to do anything underhanded. The prosecution is held to a much higher standard of ethics than the defense.”
    I shook my head. I couldn’t win.
    “That’s bullshit and I am not talking about doing anything un—”
    The door opened and Harry Bosch stepped in, pushing the door with his back because he was carrying two large boxes in his hands.
    “Sorry, I’m late,” he said.
    He put the boxes down on the table. I could tell the larger one was a carton from evidence archives. I guessed that the smaller one contained the police file on the original investigation.
    “It took them three days to find the murder box. It was on the ’eighty-five aisle instead of ’eighty-six.”
    He looked at me and then at Maggie and then back at me.
    “So what’d I miss? War break out in the war room?”
    “We were talking about prosecutorial tactics and it turns out we have opposing views.”
    “Imagine that.”
    He took the chair at the end of the table. I could tell he was going to have more to say. He lifted the top off the murder box and pulled out three accordion files and put them on the table. He then moved the box to the floor.
    “You know, Mick, while we’re airing out our differences… I think before you pulled me into this little soap opera, you should’ve told me a few things up front.”
    “Like what, Harry?”
    “Like that this whole goddamn thing is about money and not murder.”
    “What are you talking about? What money?”
    Bosch just stared at me without responding.
    “You’re talking about Jessup’s lawsuit?” I asked.
    “That’s right,” he said. “I had an interesting discussion with