A Darkness More Than Night - Michael Connelly [68]
Bosch checked his watch and saw that he was right on time. It was quarter to five and the audition was set for five. He took the stairs up to the second floor and went through a door with a sign that said NUFF SAID PRODUCTIONS. It was a three-room suite, one of the biggest in the building. Bosch had been there before and knew the layout: a waiting room with a secretary’s desk, the office of Bosch’s friend, Albert “Nuff” Said, and then a conference room. A woman behind the secretary’s desk looked up at Bosch as he stepped in.
“I’m here to see Mr. Said. My name’s Harry Bosch.”
She nodded and picked up the phone and punched a number. Bosch could hear it beep in the other room and recognized Said’s voice answering.
“It’s Harry Bosch,” the secretary said.
Bosch heard Said order her to send him in. He headed that way before she was off the phone.
“Go on in,” she said to his back.
Bosch stepped into an office that was furnished simply with a desk, two chairs, a black leather couch and a television/video console. The walls were crowded with framed one-sheet posters advertising Said’s movies and other mementos, such as the back panels of the producers’ chairs with the names of the movies printed on them. Bosch had known Said at least fifteen years, ever since the older man had hired him as a technical adviser on a movie thinly based on one of Bosch’s cases. They had kept in touch sporadically over the ensuing decade, Said usually calling Bosch when he had a technical question about a police procedure he was using in a movie. Most of Said’s productions were never seen on the silver screen. They were television and cable movies.
Albert Said stood up behind the desk and Bosch extended his hand.
“Hey, Nuff, howzit going?”
“Going fine, my friend.”
He pointed to the television.
“I watched your fine performance on Court TV today. Bravo.”
He politely clapped his hands. Bosch waved the demonstration off and looked at his watch again.
“Thanks. So are we all set here?”
“I believe so. Marjorie will have her wait for me in the conference room. You can take it from there.”
“I appreciate this, Nuff. Let me know what I can do to square it.”
“You can be in my next movie. You have a real presence, my friend. I watched the whole thing today. I taped it if you would like to see for yourself.”
“No, I don’t think so. I don’t think we’ll have the time anyway. What have you got going these days?”
“Oh, you know, waiting for the light to turn green. I have a project I think is about to go with overseas financing. It is about this cop who gets sent to prison and the trauma of being stripped of his badge and his respect and everything gives him amnesia. And so there he is in prison and he can’t remember which guys he put there and which ones he didn’t. He’s in a constant fight to survive. The one convict who befriends him turns out to be a serial killer he sent there in the first place. It’s a thriller, Harry. What do you think? Steven Segal is reading the script.”
Said’s bushy black eyebrows were arched into sharp points on his forehead. He was clearly excited by the premise of the movie.
“I don’t know, Nuff,” Bosch said. “I think it’s been done before.”
“Everything’s been done before. But what do you think?”
Bosch was saved by the bell. In the silence after Said’s question they both could hear the secretary talking to someone in the next room. Then the speakerphone on Said’s desk beeped and the secretary said, “Ms. Crowe is here. She will be waiting in the conference room.”
Bosch nodded at Said.
“Thanks, Nuff,” he whispered. “I’ll take it from here.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’ll let you know if I need any help.”
He turned to the office door but then went back to the desk and put out his hand.
“I may have to split kind of fast. So I’ll say good-bye. Good luck with that project. Sounds like another winner.”
They