Trunk Music

grip and stepped back. Bosch straightened his tie and shirt.
    “Then let’s do it, cowboy,” Iverson said.
    When they squeezed into the interview room, Goshen was waiting for them with his eyes closed, his legs up on the table and his hands laced behind his head. Bosch watched Iverson look down at the torn metal where the cuff ring had been attached to the table. Red flares of anger burst on his cheeks.
    “Okay, asshole, get up,” Iverson ordered.
    Goshen stood up and brought his cuffed hands up. Iverson got out his keys and took the cuff off one wrist.
    “Let’s try this again. Sit down.”
    When Goshen was back down, Iverson cuffed his wrists behind his back, looping the chain through one of the steel slats of the chair back. Iverson then kicked out a chair and sat to the side of the gangster. Bosch sat across from him.
    “Okay, Houdini, you also’ve got destroying public property on your list now,” Iverson said.
    “Wow, that’s bold, Iverson. Really bold. That’s like the time you came into the club and took Cinda into the fantasy booth. I think you called it interrogation. She called it something else. What’s this going to be?”
    Iverson’s face now glowed with anger. Goshen puffed his chest up proudly and smirked at the detective’s embarrassment.
    Bosch shoved the table into Goshen’s midsection and the big man doubled over it as his breath burst out. Bosch was up quickly and around the table. As he went, he pulled his keychain from his pocket. Then, using his elbow to keep Goshen’s chest down on the table, he flicked open the blade of his pocket knife and sawed off the big man’s ponytail. He went back to his seat and when Goshen lifted up, threw the six-inch length of hair on the table in front of him.
    “Ponytails went out of style at least three years ago, Goshen. You probably didn’t hear about it.”
    Iverson burst out in uproarious laughter. Goshen looked at Bosch with pale blue eyes that seemed as soulless as buttons on a machine. He didn’t say a word. He was showing Bosch he could take it. He was stand-up. But Bosch knew even he couldn’t stand up forever. Nobody can.
    “You’ve got a problem, Lucky,” Iverson said. “Big problems. You-”
    “Wait a minute, wait a minute. I don’t want to talk to you, Iverson. I don’t want you to talk to me. You’re a runt. I’ve got no respect for you. Understand? Anybody talks, let him talk.”
    Goshen nodded to Bosch. There was a silence during which Bosch looked from him to Iverson and then back.
    “Go get a cup,” Bosch said, without looking at Iverson. “We’ll be fine in here.”
    “No, you-”
    “Go get a cup.”
    “You sure?”
    Iverson looked as if he were being kicked out of the college fraternity because the boys didn’t think he fit in.
    “Yeah, I’m sure. You got a rights form on you?”
    Iverson got up. He took a folded piece of paper out of his coat pocket and tossed it on the table.
    “I’ll be right outside the door.”
    When Goshen and Bosch were alone they studied each other for a moment before Bosch spoke.
    “You want a smoke?”
    “Don’t play the good guy with me. Just tell me what’s what.”
    Bosch shrugged off the rebuke and got up. He moved behind Goshen and took his keys out again. This time he unlocked one of the cuffs. Goshen brought his hands up and began rubbing the wrists to get circulation going. He noticed the length of hair on the table and slapped it onto the floor.
    “Let me tell you something, Mr. L.A. I’ve been to a place where it doesn’t matter what they do to you, where nothing can hurt you. I’ve been there and back.”
    “Everybody’s been to Disneyland, so what?”
    “I’m not talking about fuckin’ Disneyland, asshole. I spent three years in the penta down in Chihuahua. They didn’t break me then, you aren’t going to do it now.”
    “Let me tell you something then. In my life I’ve killed a lot of people. Just wanted you to know that up front. Time comes again, there won’t be any hesitation. None. This isn’t about good guy cops and bad guy cops, Goshen. That’s the movies. The movies where the bad guys have ponytails, I guess. But this is real life. You are nothing to me but meat. And I’m gonna put you down. That’s a given. It’s just up to you how hard and how far you want to go down.”
    Goshen thought a moment.
    “All right, so now we know each other. Talk to me. And I’ll take that smoke now.”
    Bosch put his cigarettes and matches on the