A Darkness More Than Night - Michael Connelly [82]
“Who did these prints belong to?”
“A man named Allan Wiess, who had dated Ms. Krementz on three prior occasions, the most recent date being three weeks before her death.”
“Did you interview Allan Wiess?”
“Yes, I did. Along with Detective Edgar.”
“Did he acknowledge ever being in the victim’s bed?” “Yes, he did. He said he slept with her on that last occasion that he saw her, three weeks prior to her death.”
“Did he say he touched the bed board in the location you have shown us where the fingerprints were located?”
“He said he could have done it but he did not specifically remember doing it.”
“Did you investigate Allan Weiss’s activities on the night of Jody Krementz’s death?”
“Yes, we did. He had a solid alibi.”
“And what was that?”
“He told us he was in Hawaii at a real estate seminar. We checked airline and hotel records as well as with the seminar’s producers. We confirmed he was there.”
Langwiser looked at Judge Houghton and said that it would be a good time to take the morning break. The judge said it was a little early but granted the request and ordered the jurors back in fifteen minutes.
Bosch knew she wanted the break now because she was about to move into questions about David Storey and wanted them clearly separated from all the other testimony. As he stepped off the witness stand and went back to the prosecution table, Langwiser was flipping through some files. She spoke to him without looking up.
“What’s wrong, Harry?”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re not crisp. Not like yesterday. Are you nervous about something?”
“No. Are you?”
“Yeah, the whole thing. We’ve got a lot riding on this.”
“I’ll be crisper.”
“I’m serious, Harry.”
“So am I, Janis.”
He then walked away from the prosecution table and out through the courtroom.
He decided he would get a cup of coffee at the second-floor cafeteria. But first he stepped into the restroom next to the elevators and went to one of the sinks to splash cold water on his face. He bent fully over the sink, careful not to get water on his suit. He heard a toilet flush and when he straightened up and looked in the mirror he saw Rudy Tafero pass behind him and go to the sink furthest away. Bosch bent down again and brought more water up and held it. Its chill felt good against his eyes and eased his headache.
“What’s it like, Rudy?” he asked without looking at the other man.
“What’s what like, Harry?”
“You know, doing the devil’s bidding. You get any sleep at night?”
Bosch walked over to the paper towel dispenser and tore off several sheets to dry his hands and face. Tafero came over and tore off a towel and began drying his hands.
“It’s funny,” Tafero said. “The only time in my life I had trouble sleeping was when I was a cop. I wonder why that was.”
He balled the towel in his hands and threw it into the wastebasket. He smiled at Bosch and then walked out. Bosch watched him go, still rubbing his hands on the towels.
24
Bosch could feel the coffee working in his blood. The second wind was coming. The headache was easing. He was ready. This would be how they planned it, how they had choreographed it. He leaned forward to the microphone and waited for the question.
“Detective Bosch,” Langwiser said from the lectern, “did there come a time when the name David Storey came up in your investigation?”
“Yes, almost immediately. We received information from Jane Gilley, who was Jody Krementz’s roommate, that on the last night of Jody’s life she had a date with David Storey.”
“Did there come a time when you questioned Mr. Storey about that last night?”
“Yes. Briefly.”
“Why briefly, Detective Bosch? This was a homicide.”
“That was Mr. Storey’s choosing. We attempted several times to interview him on that Friday that the