Michael Connelly - Trunk Music

“All right, never mind him. What about Goshen?”

“Like I said, we brought him over this morning and told him what we got and that he was running out of time right quick. He had to make a decision and he made it. He switched lawyers. That’s about as clear a sign as you’re going to get. He’s ready to deal, you ask me. That means you’ll get him and Joey Marks, a few of the other douche bags in town. We’ll take the biggest bite out of the outfit in ten years. Everybody’s happy.”

Bosch stood up. Edgar followed suit.

“This is the second time you’ve done this to me,” Bosch said, his voice measured and controlled. “You’re not going to get a third. Where is he?”

“Hey, cool down, Bosch. We’re all working for the same thing.”

“Is he here or not?”

“He’s in interview room three. Last I checked, Weiss was in there with him, too. Alan Weiss, he’s the new lawyer.”

“Has Goshen given you any statement?”

“No, of course not. Weiss gave us the particulars. No negotiating until you get him to L.A. In other words, he’ll waive and you take him home. Your people will have to work out the deal over there. We’re out of it after today. Excepting when you come back to pick up Joey Marks. We’ll help with that. I’ve been waiting for that day for a long time.”

Bosch left the office without further word. He walked through the squad room without looking at Iverson and made his way to the rear hallway that led to the interview rooms. He lifted the flap that covered the door’s small window and saw Goshen in blue jail overalls sitting at the small table, a much smaller man in a suit across from him. Bosch knocked on the glass, waited a beat and opened the door.

“Counselor? Could we speak for a moment outside?”

“Are you from L.A.? It’s about time.”

“Let’s talk outside.”

As the lawyer got up, Bosch looked past him at Goshen. The big man was handcuffed to the table. It was barely thirty hours since Bosch had seen him last but Luke Goshen was a different man. His shoulders seemed slumped, as if he was closing in on himself. His eyes had a hollow look, the kind of stare that comes from a night of looking at the future. He didn’t look at Bosch. After Weiss stepped out, Bosch closed the door.

Weiss was about Bosch’s age. He was trim and deeply tanned. Bosch wasn’t sure but thought he wore a hairpiece. He wore glasses with thin gold frames. In the few seconds he had to size the lawyer up, Bosch decided that Goshen had probably done well for himself.

After introductions Weiss immediately got down to business.

“My client is willing to waive any challenge to extradition. But, Detectives, you need to act quickly. Mr. Goshen does not feel comfortable or safe in Las Vegas, even in Metro lockup. My hope was that we would have been able to go before a judge today but it’s too late now. But at nine A.M. tomorrow, I’ll be in court. It’s already arranged with Mr. Lipson, the local prosecutor. You’ll be able to take him to the airport by ten.”

“Slow down a second, Counselor,” Edgar said. “What’s the hurry all of a sudden? Is it ’cause Luke in there heard about the ballistics we got or because maybe Joey Marks has heard, too, and figures he better cut his losses?”

“I guess maybe it’s easier for Joey to put the hit out on him in Metro than all the way over in L.A., right?” Bosch added.

Weiss looked at them as if they were some form of life he had not previously encountered.

“Mr. Goshen doesn’t know anything about a hit and I hope that statement is just part of the usual intimidation tactics you employ. What he does know is he is being set up to take the fall for a crime he did not commit. And he feels the best way to handle this is to cooperate fully in a new environment. Someplace away from Las Vegas. Los Angeles is his only choice.”

“Can we talk to him now?”

Weiss shook his head.

“Mr. Goshen won’t be saying a word until he’s in Los Angeles. My brother will take the case from there. He has a practice there. Saul Weiss, you may have heard of him.”

Bosch had but shook his head in the negative.

“I believe he has already contacted your Mr. Gregson. So, you see, Detective, you’re just a courier here. Your job is to get Mr. Goshen on a plane tomorrow morning and get him safely to Los Angeles. It will most likely be out of your hands after that.”

“Most likely not,” Bosch said.

He stepped around the lawyer and opened the door to the interview room. Goshen looked up. Bosch stepped in and moved to the table. He leaned over it and put his hands flat on the table. Before he could speak, Weiss had moved into the room and was talking.

“Luke, don’t say a word to this man. Don’t say a word.”

Bosch ignored Weiss and looked only at Goshen.

“All I want, Lucky, is a show of faith. You want me to take you to L.A., get you there safe, then give me something. Just answer one question. Where-”

“He has to take you anyway, Luke. Don’t fall for this. I can’t represent you if you don’t listen to me.”

“Where’s Layla?” Bosch asked. “I’m not leaving Vegas until I talk to her. If you want to get out of here in the morning, I’ve got to talk to her tonight. She’s not at her place. I talked to her roommate, Pandora, last night and she says Layla’s been gone a couple of days. Where is she?”

Goshen looked from Bosch to Weiss.

“Don’t say a word,” Weiss said. “Detective, if you step out, I’d like to confer with my client. I think, actually, that might be something I won’t have a problem with him answering.”

“Hope not.”

Bosch went back into the hallway with Edgar. He put a cigarette in his mouth but didn’t light it.

“Why’s Layla so important?” Edgar asked.

“I don’t like loose ends. I want to know how she fits.”

Bosch didn’t tell him that he knew from the illegal tapes that Layla had called Aliso and asked, at Goshen’s request, when he’d be coming out to Vegas. If they found her, he would have to draw it out of her during the interview without giving away that he already knew it.

“It’s also a test,” he did tell Edgar. “To see how far we can get Goshen to go with us.”

The lawyer stepped out then and closed the door behind him.

“If you try that again, talking to him when I specifically said he would not respond, then we will have no relationship whatsoever.”

Bosch felt like asking what relationship they already had but let it go.

“Is he going to tell us?”

“No. I am. He said that when this person Layla first came to work at the club, he gave her a ride home a few nights. On one of those nights she asked him to drop her at a different place because she was trying to avoid somebody she was dating at the time and she thought he might be waiting at her apartment. Anyway, it was a house in North Las Vegas. She told him it was where she grew up. He doesn’t have the exact address but said the place was at the corner of Donna Street and Lillis. The northeast corner. Try there. That’s all he had.”

Bosch had his notebook out and wrote the street names down.

“Thank you, Counselor.”

“While you have the notebook out, write down courtroom ten. That’s where we will be tomorrow at nine. I trust you will make secure arrangements for my client’s safe delivery?”

“That’s what a courier is for, right?”

“I’m sorry, Detective. Things are said in the heat of the moment. No offense.”

“None taken.”

Bosch went out to the squad room and used the phone at an empty desk to call Southwest and change the reservations on the return flight from three in the afternoon to a ten-thirty morning flight. Bosch didn’t look at Iverson but could tell the detective was watching him from a desk fifteen feet away.