The Narrows - Michael Connelly [121]
When a man behind the counter asked if I needed help I told him I was just browsing and then walked out of the store. I walked down toward Book Carnival, stopping first to check out the empty storefront next door. Through the soaped glass I could see boxes marked with what I guessed were the titles of books. I realized Thomas was using the slot for storing books. There was a FOR LEASE sign and a phone number, which I committed to memory in case it played into an angle we would work later.
I entered Book Carnival and Ed Thomas was behind the counter. I smiled and he smiled in recognition but I could tell that it took a few seconds for him to place the face he recognized.
“Harry Bosch,” he said once he had it.
“Hey, Ed, how are you doing?”
We shook hands and his eyes behind the glasses had a warmth to them I liked. I was pretty sure I hadn’t seen him since his retirement dinner at the Sportsman’s Lodge up in the Valley six or seven years before. There was more white than not in his hair. But he was still tall and thin like I remembered him from the job. He had a tendency at crime scenes to hold his notebook up high and close to his face when he was writing. This was because his glasses were always a prescription or two behind his eyes. The arms-high pose got him the nickname of the Praying Mantis around the homicide table. I suddenly remembered that now. I remembered the flyer for his retirement party showed a caricature of Ed as a superhero with a cape and a mask and a large P on his chest.
“How’s the book business doing?”
“It’s doing good, Harry. What brings you down here from the big bad city? I heard you retired a couple years ago.”
“Yeah, I did. But I’m thinking about going back.”
“You miss it?”
“Yeah, I sort of do. We’ll see what happens.”
He seemed surprised and I knew then that he didn’t miss a thing about the job. He’d always been a reader, always had a box of paperbacks in the trunk for surveillances and while sitting on wiretaps. Now he had his pension and his bookstore. He was doing well without all of the nastiness of the job.
“You just passing by?”
“No, actually, I came here for a real reason. You remember my old partner, Kiz Rider?”
“Yeah, sure, she’s been in here before.”
“That’s what I mean. She’s been helping me with something and I want to get her a little gift. I remember she told me once that your store was like the only place around where you could get a book signed by a writer named Dean Koontz. So I was wondering if you got any of those around. I’d like to get her one.”
“I think I might have something left in the back. Let me go check. Those things go fast but I usually keep a stash.”
He left me at the counter and walked through the store to a door at the back that appeared to lead to a stockroom. I assumed the rear delivery door was back there. When he was out of sight I leaned over the counter and looked at the shelves beneath. I saw a small video display tube with its screen cut into four segments. There were four interior camera angles showing the cash register area, with me leaning over the counter; a long view of the entire store; a tighter view of a group of shelves; and the rear stockroom, where I could see Thomas looking at a similar VDT tube on a shelf.
I realized he was looking at me leaning over his counter. I straightened up, my mind quickly trying to come up with an explanation. A few moments later Thomas came back to the counter carrying a book.
“Find what you were looking for, Harry?”
“What? Oh, you mean me looking over the counter? I was just sort of wondering if you, you know, had any protection back there. You being a former cop and all. You ever worry about somebody coming in here who you knew from back when?”
“I take precautions,