Suicide Run_ Three Harry Bosch Stories - Michael Connelly [8]
Bosch badged him and asked his name. He said Louis Reineke and he spelled it for them. Bosch asked to see a photographer named Stephen Jepson and Reineke told him that Jepson wasn’t there. Bosch proceeded down the list of six photographers. None were there and none could be reached, according to Reineke. The counterman became increasingly nervous as Bosch asked about the photographers.
“So none of these photographers are here and you have no contact information for them either,” Bosch said.
“We rent space by the hour,” Reineke said. “The photographers come in, pay for an hour or whatever time they want and then they split. There is no need for numbers. Are you guys from Internal Affairs or something?”
Bosch was getting annoyed that the lead was hitting a dead end.
“We’re from homicide,” he said. “Where is the manager of the studio?”
“He’s not here. I’m the only one here.”
“All right, when was the last time any of these six men were here taking photographs?”
“I’ll have to check the books.”
He moved down the counter and opened a drawer. From it he took a large accounts book and opened it. The book appeared to list rentals of studio space by date, time and photographer. Reineke ran his finger backward over the columns and finally stopped.
“He was here last Friday,” he said. “Shot for an hour.”
“He? Which one?”
Reineke looked back down at the book.
“That would have been Stephen Jepson.”
There was something off about the conversation with Reineke. It was like they were missing each other.
“So how would that have worked?” Bosch asked. “He just came in and said he wanted some space to shoot?”
“Yeah, like that. Or he might’ve called first to make sure we weren’t booked up. Sometimes that happens.”
“Did he call?”
“I don’t remember.”
“Can we go back and look at the studio space?”
“Sure. We’re empty right now. I’ve got a three o’clock and then a four.”
They went around the counter and through a door into the loft space. There were three different photo setup areas with light stands and pull-down backgrounds. There were a few pieces of furniture to use as props. There were wires running across the ceiling and black curtains that would allow the different photo areas to be partitioned for privacy. Bosch saw the brick wall from the photos running the length of the space. He guessed that Stephen Jepson’s session on Friday had been with Lizbeth Grayson.
Bosch was staring at the wall when he remembered something that had been wrong about the conversation with Reineke. He turned and looked at the young script reader.
“Why did you ask if we were with Internal Affairs?”
Reineke stuck out his lower lip and shook his head as he looked over at the doorway and then back to the counter.
“Did I? I don’t know. I guess I was just wondering.”
“Why would you wonder if we were with Internal Affairs?”
Reineke did not look at him. The classic act of a liar.
“I don’t know. I was just guessing.”
“No, Louis, you were just lying. Why did you ask about IAD?”
“Look, man, I just was goofing. I was trying to think of something to ask.”
“Call the manager, Louis. Tell him he better get here for the three o’clock because you are going to the station with us. We’ll sit you down in a room for a while and when you’re finished goofing and want to tell us the truth, then we’ll talk.”
“No, man, I’ll lose my job here, man. I can’t go to the station now!”
Bosch made a move toward him.
“Let’s go.”
“Okay, okay, I’ll tell you. I don’t owe the guy anything anyway.”
“What guy?”
Reineke shrugged off any further hesitation.
“The guys you asked about. They’re all one guy. He’s a cop.”
“A cop?” Bosch asked.
“I think so. He says he is. He takes photos for the police. All the crime scenes.”
“He told you this?”
“Yeah, he told me. He said that’s why he uses all the different names when he comes in. Because it’s like moonlighting and that’s not allowed. When you came in asking about all those names, I thought you were like Internal Affairs and you were onto him.”
Bosch looked over at Rider and then back at Reineke.
“Louis, call the manager. You