A Darkness More Than Night - Michael Connelly [96]
“I don’t think that. I’m just asking, okay? No reason to get defensive here. I’m just trying to figure out how this reporter knows what he thinks he knows.”
“Well, figure it out without me.”
McCaleb pushed back his chair to get up.
“Try the lechon asada,” he said. “It’s the best in the city.”
As he began to get up, Twilley reached across the table and grabbed his forearm.
“Come on, Terry, let’s talk about this,” Twilley said.
“Terry, please,” Winston said.
McCaleb pulled his arm loose from Twilley’s grip and stood up. He looked over at Winston.
“Good luck with these guys, Jaye. You’ll probably need it.”
Then he looked down at Friedman and then Twilley.
“And fuck you guys very much.”
He made his way through the crowd of people waiting and out the front door. Nobody followed him.
• • •
He sat in the Cherokee parked on Sunset and watched the restaurant while letting the anger slowly leach out of his body. On one level McCaleb knew the moves Winston and her captain were making were the right moves. But on another he didn’t like being moved out of his own case. A case was like a car. You could be driving it or riding in the front or back. Or you could be left on the side of the road as the car went by. McCaleb had just gone from having his hands on the wheel to thumbing it from the side of the road. And it hurt.
He began to think about Buddy Lockridge and how he would handle him. If he determined that it had been Buddy who had talked to McEvoy after eavesdropping on McCaleb’s briefing of Winston on the boat, then he would cleanly sever all ties to him. Partner or not, he wouldn’t be able to work with Buddy again.
He realized that Buddy had the number to his cell phone and could have been the one who gave it to McEvoy. He got the phone out and called his home. Graciela answered, Fridays being one of her half days at the school.
“Graciela, did you give my cell number to anybody lately?”
“Yes, a reporter who said he knew you and needed to speak with you right away. A Jack something. Why, is something wrong?”
“No, nothing’s wrong. I was just checking.”
“Are you sure?”
McCaleb got a call-waiting beep. He looked at his watch. It was ten to one. McEvoy wasn’t supposed to call back until after one.
“Yes, I’m sure,” he told Graciela. “Look, I’ve got another call. I’ll be home by dark tonight. I’ll see you then.”
He switched to the other call. It was McEvoy, who explained that he was at the courthouse and had to get back into the trial at one or he’d lose his precious seat. He couldn’t wait the full hour to call back.
“Can you talk now?” he asked.
“What do you want?”
“I need to talk to you.”
“You keep saying that. About what?”
“Harry Bosch. I’m working on a story about —”
“I don’t know anything about the Storey case. Only what’s on TV.”
“It’s not that. It’s about the Edward Gunn case.”
McCaleb didn’t answer. He knew this was not good. Dancing with a reporter over something like this could only lead to trouble. McEvoy spoke into the silence.
“Is that what you wanted to see Harry Bosch about the other day when I saw you here? Are you working on the Gunn case?”
“Listen to me. I can honestly tell you that I am not working on the Edward Gunn case. Okay?”
Good, McCaleb thought. So far he hadn’t lied.
“Were you working on the case? For the sheriff’s department?”
“Can I ask you something? Who told you this? Who said I was working this case?”
“I can’t answer that. I have to protect my sources. If you want to give me information I will protect your identity as well. But if I give up a source, I’m fucked in this business.”
“Well, I’ll tell you what, Jack. I’m not talking to you unless you are talking to me, know what I mean? It’s a two-way street. You want to tell me who is saying this shit about me and I’ll talk to you. Otherwise, we’ve got nothing to say to each other.”
He waited. McEvoy said nothing.
“I thought so. Take it easy, Jack.”
He closed the phone. Whether McEvoy had mentioned his name or not to Captain Hitchens,