Trunk Music

ever sacred or secret for long. You should be prepared for that.”
    “Thank you, Detective.”
    “You might want to think about a small funeral. Something inside. Tell the director not to give information out over the phone. Funerals always make good video.”
    She nodded and closed the door.
    On the way out of Hidden Highlands, Bosch lit a cigarette and Edgar didn’t object.
    “She’s a cold piece of work,” Edgar said.
    “That she is,” Bosch answered. “What do you think of the phone call from Lucky?”
    “It’s just one more piece. We got Lucky by the balls. As far as he’s concerned, it’s over.”
    Bosch took Mulholland along the crest of the mountains until it wound down to the Hollywood Freeway. They passed without comment the fire road down which Tony Aliso had been found. At the freeway, Bosch turned south so he could pick up the IO in downtown and head east.
    “Harry, what’s up?” Edgar asked. “I thought we were leavin’ outta Burbank.”
    “We’re not flying. We’re driving.”
    “What are you talking about?”
    “I only reserved the flights in case somebody checked. When we get to Vegas, we let on that we flew in and that we’re flying out right after the hearing with Goshen. Nobody has to know we’re driving. You okay with that?”
    “Yeah, sure, fine. I get it. Precautions, settin’ a smoke screen in case somebody checks. I can dig it. You never know with the mobsters, do you?”
    “Or with the cops.”

PART IV
    AVERAGING OVER NINETY miles an hour, including a fifteen-minute stop at a McDonald’s, they got to Las Vegas in four hours. They drove to McCarran International Airport, parked in the garage and took their briefcases and overnighters out of the trunk. While Edgar waited outside, Bosch went into the terminal and rented a car at the Hertz counter.
    It was almost four-thirty by the time they got to the Metro building. As they walked through the detective bureau, Bosch saw Iverson sitting at his desk and talking to Baxter, who stood nearby. A thin smile played on Iverson’s face but Bosch ignored it and went straight to Felton’s office. The police captain was behind his desk doing paperwork. Bosch knocked on the open door and then entered.
    “Bosch, where ya been?”
    “Taking care of details.”
    “This your prosecutor?”
    “No, this is my partner, Jerry Edgar. The prosecutor isn’t coming out until the morning.”
    Edgar and Felton shook hands but Felton continued to look at Bosch.
    “Well, you can call him and tell him not to bother.”
    Bosch looked at him a moment. He knew now why Iverson had smiled. Something was going on.
    “Captain, you’re always full of surprises,” he said. “What is it this time?”
    Felton leaned back in his chair. He had an unlit cigar, one end soggy with saliva, on the edge of the desk. He picked it up and clenched it between two fingers. He was playing it out, obviously trying to get a rise out of Bosch. But Bosch didn’t bite and the captain finally spoke.
    “Your boy, Goshen, is packing his bags.”
    “He’s waiving extradition?”
    “Yeah, he got smart.”
    Bosch took the chair in front of the desk and Edgar took one to the right. Felton continued.
    “Fired that mouthpiece Mickey Torrino and got his own guy. Not that much of an improvement, but at least the new guy’s got Lucky’s best interest in mind.”
    “And how did he get smart?” Bosch asked. “You tell him about the ballistics?”
    “Sure, I told him. Brought him over, told him the score. I also told him how we broke his alibi down to shit.”
    Bosch looked at him but didn’t ask the question.
    “Yeah, that’s right, Bosch. We haven’t been exactly sitting over here on our asses. We went to work on this guy and we’re helping to pound him into the ground for you. He said he never left his office Friday night until it was time to go home at four. Well, we went over and checked that office out. There’s a back door. He could’ve come in and gone out. Nobody saw him from the time Tony Aliso left until four, when he came out to close the club. That gave him plenty of time to go out there, take down Tony and hop the last flight back. And here’s the kicker. Girl that works over there goes by the name of Modesty. She got into it with another dancer and went to the office to complain to Lucky. She said nobody answered when she knocked. So she tells Gussie she wants to see the boss and he tells her the boss ain’t in. That was about