Trunk Music - Michael Connelly [127]
“Does he think she could have pulled this off by herself after hitting him with the pepper spray?” Billets asked.
“It doesn’t matter, because she wasn’t alone,” Bosch answered.
He pulled his briefcase onto his lap and took out the copies of the shoe prints Donovan had recovered from the body and the bumper of the Rolls. He slid the pages to the middle of the table so the three others could look.
“That’s a size eleven shoe. It belongs to a man, Artie says. A big man. So the woman, if she was there, could have sprayed him with the pepper, but this guy finished the job.”
Bosch pointed to the shoe prints.
“He put his foot right on the victim so he could lean in close and do the job point-blank. Very cool and very efficient. Probably a pro. Maybe someone she knew since her Vegas days.”
“Probably the one who planted the gun in Vegas?” Billets asked.
“That’s my guess.”
Bosch had been keeping his eye on the front gate of the courtyard, just in case the drunk who had been tossed out decided to come back and make his point. But when he glanced over now, he didn’t see the drunk. He saw Officer Ray Powers, wearing mirrored glasses despite the lateness of the day, entering the courtyard and being met halfway across by the bartender. Waving his arms in an animated fashion, the bartender told the big cop about the drunk and the threats. Powers glanced around at the tables and saw Bosch and the others. When he had disengaged from the bartender he sauntered over.
“So, the detective bureau brain trust takes five,” he said.
“That’s right, Powers,” Edgar said. “I think the guy you’re looking for is out there pissing in the bushes.”
“Yes, suh, I’ll jus’ go out there ’n’ fetch him, boss.”
Powers looked around the table at the others with a satisfied smirk on his face. He saw the copies of the shoe prints on the table and pointed at them with his chin.
“Is this what you dicks call an investigative strategy session? Well, I’ll give you a tip. Those there are what they call shoe prints.”
He smiled at his remark, proud of it.
“We’re off duty, Powers,” Billets said. “Why don’t you go do your job and we’ll worry about ours.”
Powers saluted her.
“Somebody’s got to do the job, don’t they?”
He walked away and out through the gate without waiting for a reply.
“He’s got one hell of a bug up his ass,” Rider said.
“He’s just mad because I told his lieutenant about the fingerprint he left on our car,” Billets said. “I think he got his ass chewed. Anyway, back to business. What do you think, Harry? Do we have enough to take a hard run at Veronica?”
“I think we almost do. I’m going to go up there with these guys tomorrow, see what’s on the gate log. Maybe we’ll pay her a visit. I just wish we had something concrete to talk to her about.”
Billets nodded.
“I want to be kept informed tomorrow. Call me by noon.”
“Will do.”
“The more time that goes by on this, the harder it will be to keep this investigation among just us. I think by Monday we’re going to have to take stock and decide whether to turn what we have over to the bureau.”
“I don’t see that,” Bosch said, shaking his head. “Whatever we give them, they’re just going to sit on. If you want to clear this, you’ve got to let us alone, keep the bureau off us.”
“I will try, Harry, but there will come a point where that will be impossible. We’re running a full-scale investigation off the books here. Word’s going to get out. It has to. And all I’m saying is that it will be better if that word comes from me and can be controlled.”
Bosch nodded reluctantly. He knew she was right but he had to fight her suggestion. The case belonged to them. It was his. And all that had happened to him in the last week made it all the more personal. He didn’t want to give it up.
He gathered up the copies of the shoe prints and put them back in his briefcase. He finished the last of his glass of beer and asked who and what he owed for it.
“It’s on me,” Billets said. “The next one, after we clear this, is on you.”
“It’s a deal.”
When Bosch got to his house he found the door