Trunk Music

too curious about the pusher who works the nearby corner. He grabbed her and sold her and a rock to his next customer. She’s with her mother.”
    “Thanks, Bosch. Just what I needed on a Friday. I’ll go right back. You ask if she needed medical?”
    “She said no, but I think the answer is yes.”
    “Okay, I’ll handle it. Thanks.”
    Back at the front desk, it took Bosch a few minutes to clear his thoughts about the girl from his mind and another forty-five to finish reading through the reports and deliver them to the appropriate detective squads.
    When he was done, he checked on Billets through the window and saw she was on the phone with a pile of paperwork in front of her. Bosch got up and went to his file cabinet and took out the copy of the murder book he had put there earlier. He lugged the thick binder back to his desk at the front counter. He had decided that in his free time between his duties at the front desk he would begin reviewing the murder book. The case had taken off so quickly earlier in the week that he had not had the time he usually liked to spend reviewing the paperwork. He knew from experience that command of the details and the nuances of an investigation was often the key to closing it out. He had just started turning through the pages in a cursory review when a vaguely familiar voice addressed him from the counter.
    “Is that what I think it is?”
    Bosch looked up. It was O’Grady, the FBI agent. Bosch felt his face burn with embarrassment that he’d been caught red-handed with the file and with his growing dislike for the agent.
    “Yeah, it’s what you think it is, O’Grady. You were supposed to be here a half hour ago to pick it up.”
    “Yeah, well, I don’t run on your time. I had things to do.”
    “Like what, get your buddy Roy a new ponytail?”
    “Just give me the binder, Bosch. And all the rest.”
    Bosch still had not gotten up and made no move to now.
    “What do you want it for, O’Grady? We all know you’re going to let the thing drop. You people don’t care who killed Tony Aliso and you don’t want to know.”
    “That’s bullshit. Give me the file.”
    O’Grady reached over the counter and was reaching around blindly for the release button on the half door.
    “Hold your fucking horses, man,” Bosch said as he stood up. “Just wait there. I’ll get it all.”
    Carrying the binder, Bosch walked back to the homicide table and, using his back to shield O’Grady’s view, placed the binder on the table and picked up the box containing the original binder and the ancillary reports and evidence bags that Edgar and Rider had put in with it. He carried it back and dropped it on the counter in front of O’Grady.
    “You gotta sign for it,” he said. “We’re extra careful about how we handle evidence and who gets to handle it.”
    “Yeah, right. The whole world knows that from the O.J. case, don’t they?”
    Bosch grabbed O’Grady’s tie and jerked his upper body down over the counter. The agent could not find a purchase with his hands that would give him the leverage to pull back. Bosch bent down so that he was talking directly into his ear.
    “Excuse me?”
    “Bosch, you-”
    “Harry!”
    Bosch looked up. Billets was standing in the door of her office. Bosch let go of the tie and O’Grady’s body sprang backward as he straightened up. His face was crimson with embarrassment and anger. As he jerked his tie loose from around his neck he yelled, “You’re certifiable, you know that? You’re a fucking asshole!”
    “I didn’t know you agents used that kind of language,” Bosch said.
    “Harry, just sit down,” Billets commanded. “I’ll take care of this.”
    She had come up to the counter now.
    “He’s got to sign the receipt.”
    “I don’t care! I’ll handle it!”
    Bosch went back to his desk and sat down. He stared dead-eyed at O’Grady while Billets dug through the box until she found the inventory list and receipt Edgar had prepared. She showed O’Grady where to sign and then told him to go.
    “You better watch him,” he said to Billets as he picked the box up off the counter.
    “You better watch yourself, Agent O’Grady. If I hear anything else about this little disagreement here, I’ll file a complaint against you for inciting it.”
    “He’s the one who-”
    “I don’t care. Understand? I don’t care. Now leave.”
    “I’m leaving. But you watch your boy there. Keep him away from this.”
    O’Grady pointed