Trunk Music

that if I don’t know where she was going?”
    Bosch pointed a finger at her like a gun.
    “Good point. Did she say when she’d be back?”
    “No.”
    “How old is Gretchen?”
    “She’ll be twenty-three.”
    “How’d she take the news about Tony?”
    “Not well. She was in love and now her heart’s broken. I’m worried about her.”
    “You think she might do something to hurt herself?”
    “I don’t know what she might do.”
    “Did she tell you she was in love, or did you just think that?”
    “I just didn’t think it up, she told me. She confided in me and it was the truth. She said they were going to get married.”
    “Did she know Tony Aliso was already married?”
    “Yes, she knew. But he told her, he said that it was over and it was just a matter of time.”
    Bosch nodded. He wondered if it was the truth. Not the truth that Gretchen might have believed, but the truth that Tony Aliso believed. He looked down at the blank page of his notebook.
    “I’m trying to think if there is anything else,” he said. “Jerry?”
    Edgar shook his head, then spoke.
    “I guess I’d just like to know why a mother would let her daughter do that for a living. Taking her clothes off like that.”
    “Jerry, I-”
    “She has a talent, mister. Men came from all over the country and when they see her they keep coming back. Because of her. And I’m not her mother. I might as well have been, her own went and left her with me a long time ago. But she has a talent and I’m not talking to you two anymore. Get out of my house.”
    She stood up, as if ready to physically enforce her edict if she needed to. Bosch decided to let her have her say and stood up, putting his notebook away.
    “I’m sorry for the intrusion,” he said as he dug a business card out of his wallet. “If you hear from her, would you give her this number? And tonight she can get me at the Mirage again.”
    “I’ll tell her if I hear from her.”
    She took the card and followed them to the door. On the front step Bosch looked back at her and nodded.
    “Thanks, Mrs. Alexander.”
    “For what?”
    They were quiet for a while driving back to the Strip. Eventually, Bosch asked Edgar what he thought of the interview.
    “She’s a crusty old bitch. I had to ask that question. Just to see how she’d react. Other than that, I think this Layla or Gretchen is just a dead end. Just some stupid girl Tony was leading on. You know, it’s usually the strippers that are working the angles. But this time I think it was Tony.”
    “Maybe.”
    Bosch lit a cigarette and dropped back into silence. He was no longer thinking of the interview. As far as he was concerned, the work for the day was over and he was now thinking about Eleanor Wish.
    When he got to the Mirage, Bosch swung the car into the circle in front and pulled to a stop near the front doors.
    “Harry, man, what are you doing?” Edgar said. “Bullets might pop for the Mirage, but she isn’t going to dig into the company wallet for valet parking.”
    “I’m just dropping you off. I’m going to go switch the cars tonight. I don’t want to go anywhere near that airport tomorrow.”
    “That’s cool, but I’ll go with you, man. Nothin’ to do here but lose money on the machines.”
    Bosch reached over and opened the glove box and pushed the trunk-release button.
    “No, Jed, I’m going on my own. I want to think about some things. Grab your stuff outta the trunk.”
    Edgar looked at him a long moment. Bosch had not called him Jed in a long time. Edgar was about to say something but apparently thought better of it. He opened the door.
    “Okay, Harry. You want to grab dinner or something later?”
    “Yeah, maybe. I’ll call you in your room.”
    “You’re the man.”
    After Edgar slammed the trunk, Bosch drove back out onto Las Vegas Boulevard and then north to Sands. It was dusk and the day’s dying light was being replaced with the neon glow of the city. In ten minutes he pulled into a parking space in front of Eleanor Wish’s apartment building. He took a deep breath and got out of the car. He had to know. Why had she not answered his calls? Why had she not responded to his message?
    When he got to the door, he felt his guts seize as if gripped in a huge fist. The note he had carefully folded and squeezed into the doorjamb two nights before was still there. Bosch looked down at the worn doormat and then squeezed his eyes shut. He felt a tremendous wave of the guilt he had