Michael Connelly - EchoPark

Bosch nodded.

“I got that,” he said. “And I’ve got you.”

“Then be so kind as to tell me what the threshold crime is that I have conspired to commit.”

Bosch thought for a moment before answering.

“How about suborning perjury and obstruction of justice? We could start there and move up to corruption of a public official, maybe aiding and abetting an escape from lawful custody.”

“And we could end there as well,” Swann said. “I was representing my client. I committed none of those crimes and you have not a shred of evidence that I did. If you arrest me, it will simply prove your own undoing and embarrassment.”

He stood up.

“Good evening to you all.”

Bosch stepped over and put his hand on Swann’s shoulder. He drove him back down onto the bench.

“Sit the fuck down. You are under arrest. I’ll leave it to the prosecutors to decide about threshold crimes. I don’t give a shit about that. As far as I’m concerned, two cops are dead and my partner is going to end her career because of you, Maury. So fuck you.”

Bosch looked over at Pratt, who sat with a slight smile on his face.

“It’s good to have a lawyer in the house, Harry,” he said. “I think Maury makes a good point. Maybe you should think about this before doing anything rash.”

Bosch shook his head.

“You aren’t walking away from this,” he said. “Not by a long shot.”

He waited a moment but Pratt said nothing.

“I know you’re the setup man,” Bosch said. “The whole thing up in Beachwood Canyon was yours. It was you who made the deal with the Garlands, then you went to Maury here, who took it to Waits. You doctored the murder book after Waits gave you an alias to stick in it. Maury might have a point about the felony-murder rap but there’s more than enough there for obstruction, and if I get that, then I’ve got you. That means no island and no pension, Top. That means you go down in flames.”

Pratt’s eyes dropped from Bosch to the dark waters of the pool.

“I want the Garlands, and you can give them to me,” Bosch said.

Pratt shook his head without turning his eyes from the water.

“Then, have it your way,” Bosch said. “Let’s go.”

He signaled Pratt and Swann to stand up. They complied. Bosch turned Swann around so he could cuff him. As he did so he looked over the lawyer’s shoulder at Pratt.

“After we book you, who’re you going to call about bail, your wife or the girl from Hiring and Firing?”

Pratt immediately sat back down as if hit by a sucker punch. Bosch had been saving it for his last shot. He kept the pressure on.

“Which one was going to go with you to the island? To your sugar plantation? My guess is it was what’s-her-name.”

“Her name is Jessie Templeton. And I made you on the tail at her place tonight.”

“Yeah, and I made you making me. But tell me, how much does Jessie Templeton know, and is she going to be as strong as you when I go see her after I book you?”

“Bosch, she doesn’t know anything. Leave her out of it. Leave my wife and kids out of it, too.”

Bosch shook his head.

“Doesn’t work that way. You know that. We’re going to turn everything upside down and shake it to see what falls out. I’m going to find the money the Garlands paid you and I’ll tie it back to you, to Maury Swann, everybody. I just hope you didn’t use your girlfriend to hide it. Because if you did, she goes down, too.”

Pratt leaned forward on the bench. Bosch got the impression that if his hands hadn’t been cuffed behind his back, he’d have been using them at that moment to hold his head and hide his face from the world. Bosch had kept at him like a man with an axe chopping at a tree. It was barely standing now. It needed one little push and it would go down.

Bosch walked Swann over to Rachel, who took him by one of his arms. Bosch then turned back to Pratt.

“You fed the wrong dog,” Bosch said.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Everybody’s got choices and you made the wrong one. Problem is, we don’t pay for our mistakes alone. We take people down with us.”

Bosch walked to the edge of the pool and looked down into the water. It shimmered on top but was impenetrably dark beneath the surface. He waited but it didn’t take long for the tree to fall.

“Jessie doesn’t need to be part of this and my wife doesn’t need to know about her,” Pratt said.

It was an opening offer. Pratt was going to talk. Bosch kicked his foot on the tile edging and turned back to face him.

“I’m not a prosecutor but I’ll bet something could be worked out.”

“Pratt, you are making a big mistake!” Swann said urgently.

Bosch reached down to Pratt and patted his pockets until he located the keys to the Commander and pulled them out.

“Rachel, take Mr. Swann to Detective Pratt’s car. It will be better for transporting him. We’ll be right there.”

He threw her the keys and she started walking Swann to the opening in the hedge she had come through. Swann had to be pushed. He looked over his shoulder as he went and called back to Pratt.

“Do not talk to that man,” he yelled. “Do you hear me? Do not talk to anyone! You will talk us all into prison!”

Swann kept yelling legal advice through the hedge. Bosch waited until he heard the car door close on his voice. He then stood in front of Pratt and noticed that sweat was dripping from his hairline and down his face.

“I don’t want Jessie or my family involved,” Pratt said. “And I want a deal. No jail time, I’m allowed to retire and I get to keep my pension.”

“You want a lot for somebody who got two people killed.”

Bosch started to pace, trying to figure out a way of making it all work for both of them. Rachel came back through the hedge. Bosch looked at her and was about to ask why she had left Swann unattended.

“Child-proof locks,” she said. “He can’t get out.”

Bosch nodded and gave his attention back to Pratt.

“Like I said, you want a lot,” he said. “What are you giving back?”

“I can give you the Garlands, easy,” Pratt said desperately. “Anthony took me up there two weeks ago and led me to the girl’s body. And Maury Swann, I can give you him on a platter. The guy’s as dirty as…”

He didn’t finish.

“You?”

Pratt lowered his eyes and slowly nodded his head.

Bosch tried to put everything aside so that he could think clearly about Pratt’s offer. The blood of Freddy Olivas and Deputy Doolan was on Pratt’s hands. Bosch didn’t know whether he’d be able to sell the deal to a prosecutor. He didn’t know if he could even sell it to himself. But in that moment, he was willing to try if it meant he would finally get to the man who killed Marie Gesto.

“No promises,” he said. “We’ll go see a prosecutor.”

Bosch moved to the last important question.

“What about O’Shea and Olivas?”

Pratt shook his head once.

“They were clean on this.”

“Garland funneled at least twenty-five grand to O’Shea’s campaign. That’s documented.”

“He was just covering his bets. If O’Shea got suspicious, T. Rex could keep him in line because it would look like a payoff.”

Bosch nodded. He felt the burn of humiliation over what he had thought about O’Shea and said to him.

“That wasn’t the only thing you got wrong,” Pratt said.

“Yeah, what else?”

“You said I went to the Garlands with this thing. I didn’t. They came to me, Harry.”

Bosch shook his head. He didn’t believe Pratt for the simple reason that if the Garlands had had the idea to buy off a cop, their first overture would have been to the source of their problem: Bosch. That never happened and that made Bosch feel confident that the scheme had been hatched by Pratt as he tried to juggle retirement, a possible divorce, a mistress and whatever other secrets his life held. He had gone to the Garlands with it. He had gone to Maury Swann, too.