Trunk Music - Michael Connelly [50]
Bosch watched this and was thinking that he now had a pretty good idea how Tony Aliso ended up with the small handprint on his shoulder, when a petite blond woman slid into the seat next to him.
“Hi. I’m Rhonda. You missed my show!”
“I heard that. I’m sorry.”
“Well, I go back on in a half hour and do it all over again. I hope you’ll stay. Yvonne said you wanted to buy me a drink?”
As if on cue Bosch saw the waitress heading their way. Bosch leaned over to Rhonda.
“Listen, Rhonda, I’d rather take care of you than give my money to the bar. So do me a favor and don’t go exorbitant on me.”
“Exorbitant…?”
She crinkled her face up in a question.
“Don’t go ordering champagne.”
“Oh, I gotcha.”
She ordered a martini and Yvonne floated back into the darkness.
“So, I didn’t catch your name.”
“Harry.”
“And you’re a friend of Tony’s from L.A. You make movies, too?”
“No, not really.”
“How do you know Tony?”
“I just met him recently. Listen, I’m trying to find Layla to get a message to her. Yvonne tells me she’s not on tonight. You know where I can find her?”
Bosch noticed her stiffen. She knew something wasn’t right.
“First of all, Layla doesn’t work here anymore. I didn’t know that when I talked to you last night, but she’s gone and won’t be back. And secondly, if you’re a friend of Tony’s, then how come you’re asking me how to find her?”
She wasn’t as dumb as Bosch had thought. He decided to go direct.
“Because Tony got himself killed, so I can’t ask him. I want to find Layla to tell her and maybe warn her.”
“What?” she shrieked.
Her voice cut through the loud music like a bullet through a slice of bread. Everybody in the place, including the naked Randy on the stage, looked in their direction. Bosch had no doubt that everyone in the place must think he had just propositioned her, offering an insulting fee for an equally insulting act.
“Keep it down, Randy,” he quickly said.
“It’s Rhonda.”
“Rhonda then.”
“What happened to him? He was just here.”
“Somebody shot him in L.A. when he got back. Now, do you know where Layla is or not? You tell me and I’ll take care of you.”
“Well, what are you? Are you really his friend or not?”
“In a way I’m his only friend right now. I’m a cop. My name’s Harry Bosch and I’m trying to find out who did it.”
Her face took on a look that seemed even more horrified than when he told her Aliso was dead. Sometimes telling people you were a cop did that.
“Save your money,” she said. “I can’t talk to you.”
She got up then and moved quickly away toward the door next to the stage. Bosch threw her name out after her but it was crushed by the sound of the music. He casually took a look around and noticed behind him that the tuxedo man was eyeing him through the darkness. Bosch decided he wasn’t going to stick around for Rhonda’s second show. He took one more gulp of beer — he hadn’t even touched his second glass — and got up.
As he neared the exit the tuxedo leaned back and knocked on the mirror behind him. It was then that Bosch realized there was a door cut into the glass. It opened and the tuxedo stepped to the side to block Bosch’s exit.
“Sir, could you step into the office, please?”
“What for?”
“Just step in. The manager would like a word with you.”
Bosch hesitated but through the door he could see a lighted office where a man in a suit sat behind a desk. He stepped in and the tuxedo came in behind him and shut the door.
Bosch looked at the man behind the desk. Blond and beefy. Bosch wouldn’t know whom to bet on if a fight broke out between the tuxedoed bouncer and the so-called manager. They were both brutes.
“I just got off the phone with Randy in the dressing room, she says you were asking about Tony Aliso.”
“It was Rhonda.”
“Rhonda, whatever, never-the-fuck-mind. She said you said he was dead.”
He spoke with a midwestern accent. Sounded like southside Chicago, Bosch guessed.
“Was and still is.”
The blond nodded to the tuxedo and his arm came up in a split second and hit Bosch with a backhand in the mouth. Bosch went back against the wall, banging the back