Trunk Music - Michael Connelly [147]
Bosch stepped into interview room three with the box of cash turned so that the side that said Xmas on it was held against his chest. He hoped it looked like any common cardboard box. He watched Powers for a sign of recognition and got none. Powers was sitting just as Bosch had left him. Ramrod straight, his arms behind him as if by choice. He looked at Bosch with deadpan eyes that were ready and waiting for the next go-round. Bosch put the box on the floor where it would be shielded from view, pulled out the chair and sat across from him again. He then reached down, opened the box and took out a tape recorder and a file folder. He put them on the table in plain sight.
“I told you, Bosch, no taping. If you got the camera on the other side of the glass going, then you’re ripping off my rights, too.”
“No camera, no tape, Powers. This is just to play you something, that’s all. Now, where were we?”
“We were to the point of put up or shut up. You cut me loose or you get my lawyer in here.”
“Well, actually, a couple of things have come up. I thought you might want to know about them first. You know, before you make a decision like that.”
“Fuck that. I’m through with this shit. Get me the phone.”
“Do you own a camera, Powers?”
“I said get — a camera? What about it?”
“Do you own a camera? It’s a pretty straightforward question.”
“Yes. Everybody owns a camera. What about it?”
Bosch studied him for a moment. He could feel the momentum and control start to maybe shift just a bit. It was coming across the table from Powers. He could feel it. Bosch played a thin smile on his face. He wanted Powers to know that from this point on it was slipping away from him.
“Did you take the camera with you when you went to Vegas last March?”
“I don’t know. Maybe. I take it on all my vacations. Didn’t know it was a crime. The fucking legislature, what will they think of next?”
Bosch let him have his smile but didn’t return it.
“Is that what you called it?” he said quietly. “A vacation?”
“Yeah, that’s exactly what I called it.”
“That’s funny, because that’s not what Veronica is calling it.”
“I don’t know anything about that or her.”
His eyes momentarily looked away from Bosch. It was the first time, and again Bosch felt the balance shifting. He was playing it right. He felt it. Things were shifting.
“Sure you know about it, Powers. And you know her pretty good, too. She just told us all about it. She’s in the other room right now. Turns out she was weaker than I thought. My money had been on you. You know the saying, the bigger they are the harder they fall, all of that. I thought you’d be the one but it was her. Edgar and Rider broke her down a little while ago. Amazing how crime scene photos can work on somebody’s guilty conscience. She told us everything, Powers. Everything.”
“You’re so full of bullshit, Bosch, and it’s getting pretty old. Where’s the phone?”
“This is how she tells it. You —”
“I don’t want to hear it.”
“You met her when you went up there that night to take the burglary report. One thing led to another and pretty soon you two were having a little romance. An affair to remember. Only she came to her senses and broke it off. She still loved ol’ Tony. She knew he traveled a lot, strayed a lot, but she was used to that. She needed him. So she cut you off. Only, and this is according to her, you wouldn’t be cut off. You kept after her, calling her, following her when she’d leave the estate up there. It was getting scary. I mean, what could she do? Go to Tony and say this guy I had an affair with is following me all the time? She —”
“This is so much bullshit, Bosch. It’s a joke!”
“Then you started following Tony. You see, he was your problem. He was in the way. So you did your homework. You followed him to Vegas and you caught him in the act. You knew just what he was up to and how to put him down in a way that we’d go down the wrong path. Trunk music, they call it. Only you couldn’t carry the tune, Powers. We’re on to you. With her help, we’re going to put you down.”
Powers was looking down at the