Michael Connelly - EchoPark

“Nice,” Rachel said. “I guess I should’ve been a defense attorney.”

“You’d’ve been good working with criminals.”

“Fuck you, Bosch.”

The banter ended with a loud voice coming from behind a tall hedge that ran along the far side of the turnaround and on the left side of the house.

“I said get in there!”

There was a splash and Bosch and Walling headed toward the sound.

BOSCH SEARCHED THE HEDGE with his eyes, looking for an opening. There didn’t appear to be one from the front. When they got close he wordlessly signaled Rachel to follow the hedge to the right while he went left. He noticed that she was carrying her weapon down at her side.

The hedge was at least ten feet high and so thick that Bosch could see no light from the pool or house through it. But as he moved along it he heard the sound of splashing and voices, one of which he recognized as belonging to Abel Pratt. The voices were close.

“Please, I can’t swim. I can’t touch the bottom!”

“Then what d’you have a swimming pool for? Keep paddling.”

“Please! I’m not going to-why would I tell a soul about -”

“You’re a lawyer, and lawyers like to play the angles.”

“Please.”

“I’m telling you, if I get even a hint that you’re playing an angle on me, then next time it won’t be a pool. It will be the fucking Pacific Ocean. You understand that?”

Bosch came to an alcove where the pool’s filter pump and heater were located on a concrete pad. There was also a small opening in the hedge for a pool maintenance man to squeeze through. He slipped into the opening and stepped onto the tile surrounding a large oval pool. He was twenty feet behind Pratt, who was standing at the edge, looking down at a man in the water. Pratt held a long blue pole with a curved extension. It was for pulling people in trouble to the side but Pratt was holding it just out of reach of the man. He grabbed at it desperately but each time Pratt jerked it away.

It was hard to identify the man in the water as Maury Swann. The pool was dark with the lights off. Swann’s glasses were gone and his hair looked like it had slipped off his scalp to the back of his head like a mud slide. On his gleaming bald dome was a strip of tape for holding his hairpiece in place.

The sound of the pool filter gave Bosch cover. He was able to walk unnoticed to within six feet of Pratt before speaking.

“What’s happening, Top?”

Pratt quickly lowered the pole so that Swann could grab the hook.

“Hang on, Maury!” Pratt yelled. “You’re all right.”

Swann grabbed on and Pratt started pulling him toward the side of the pool.

“I gotcha, Maury,” Pratt said. “Don’t worry.”

“You don’t have to bother with the lifeguard act,” Bosch said. “I heard it all.”

Pratt paused and looked down at Swann in the water. He was three feet from the side.

“In that case,” Pratt said.

He let go of the pole and whipped his right hand behind his back to the belt line.

“Don’t!”

It was Walling. She had found her own way through the hedge. She was on the other side of the pool, pointing her weapon at Pratt.

Pratt froze and seemed to be making a decision about whether to draw or not. Bosch moved in behind him and yanked the gun out of his pants.

“Harry!” Rachel called. “I’ve got him. Get the lawyer.”

Swann was sinking. The blue pole was going down with him. Bosch quickly went to the pool’s edge and grabbed it. He pulled Swann to the surface. The lawyer started coughing and spitting water. He held tight to the pole and Bosch walked him down to the shallow end. Rachel came around to Pratt and ordered him to put his wrists behind his head.

Maury Swann was naked. He came up the steps in the shallow end cupping his shriveled balls with one hand and trying to pull his toupee back on with the other. Giving up on the hairpiece, he tore it all the way off and threw it down on the tile, where it landed with a splat. He went directly to a pile of clothes by a bench and started getting dressed while still soaking wet.

“So what was going on here, Maury?” Bosch asked.

“Nothing that concerns you.”

Bosch nodded.

“I get it. A guy comes here to put you in the pool and watch you drown, maybe make it look like suicide or an accident, and you don’t want anybody concerned about it.”

“It was a disagreement, that’s all. He was scaring me, not drowning me.”

“Does that mean you and he had an agreement before you then had this disagreement?”

“I’m not answering that.”

“Why was he scaring you?”

“I don’t have to answer any of your questions.”

“Then maybe we should back on out of here and leave you two to finish your disagreement. Maybe that would be the best thing to do here.”

“Do what you want.”

“You know what I think? I think that with your client Raynard Waits dead, there’s only one person who can link Detective Pratt to the Garlands. I think your partner over there was getting rid of that link because he was getting scared. You’d be at the bottom of that pool if we hadn’t happened by here.”

“You can do and think what you want. But what I am telling you is that we had a disagreement. He happened by while I was taking my nightly swim and we disagreed about something.”

“I thought you didn’t know how to swim, Maury. Isn’t that what you said?”

“I’m finished talking to you, Detective. You can leave my property now.”

“Not yet, Maury. Why don’t you finish getting dressed and join us at the deep end.”

Bosch left him there as he struggled to get his wet legs into a pair of silk pants. At the other end of the pool Pratt was now handcuffed and sitting on a concrete bench.

“I’m not saying anything until I talk to a lawyer,” he said.

“Well, there’s one over there putting his clothes on,” Bosch said. “Maybe you can hire him.”

“I’m not talking, Bosch,” Pratt repeated.

“Good decision,” Swann called from the far end. “Rule number one: Never talk to the cops.”

Bosch looked at Rachel and almost laughed.

“Can you believe this? Two minutes ago he was trying to drown the guy, and now the guy’s giving him free legal advice.”

“ Sound legal advice,” Swann said.

Swann walked over to where the others were waiting. Bosch noticed that his clothes were sticking to his wet body.

“I wasn’t trying to drown him,” Pratt said. “I was trying to help him. But that’s all I’m going to say.”

Bosch looked at Swann.

“Pull your zipper up, Maury, and sit down over here.”

Bosch pointed to a spot on the bench next to Pratt.

“No, I don’t think I will,” Swann replied.

He took a step toward the house but Bosch took two steps and cut him off. He redirected him to the bench.

“Sit down,” he said. “You’re under arrest.”

“For what? ” Swann said indignantly.

“Double murder. Both of you are under arrest.”

Swann laughed as though he were dealing with a child. Now that he had his clothes on he was recovering some of his swagger.

“And what murders would these be?”

“Detective Fred Olivas and Deputy Derek Doolan.”

Now Swann shook his head, the smile intact on his face.

“I’m assuming these charges fall under the felony-homicide rule, since there is ample evidence that we did not actually pull the trigger that fired the bullets that killed Olivas and Doolan.”

“It’s always good to deal with a lawyer. I hate having to explain the law all the time.”

“It’s a pity you need the law explained to you, Detective Bosch. The felony-homicide rule comes into play only when someone is killed during the commission of a serious crime. If that threshold is satisfied, then co-conspirators in the criminal enterprise may be charged with murder.”