Trunk Music - Michael Connelly [57]
“Luke Goshen. We only had his prints on file because he had to give ’em to get the entertainment license for one of Joey’s strip clubs. The license is in Goshen’s name. It keeps Joey out of it. Nice and clean. Only not anymore. The prints tie Goshen to a murder and that means Joey isn’t far behind.”
“Wait a minute, what’s the name of the club?”
“Dolly’s. It’s in —”
“North Las Vegas. Son of a bitch.”
“What, I say something?”
“This Goshen guy, do they call him Lucky?”
“Probably not after today. His luck’s about to run out. Sounds like you know of him.”
“I met the prick last night.”
“You’re shitting me.”
“At Dolly’s. The last phone call from Aliso’s office in L.A. was to Dolly’s. I found out he was coming out here and spending time with one of the dancers at that place. I went to check it out last night and fucked up. Goshen had one of his guys give me this.”
Bosch touched the bump on his lip.
“I was wondering where you got that. Which one give you that?”
“Gussie.”
“Fucking Big John Flanagan. We’ll be bringing his lard ass in today, too.”
“John Flanagan? How they get Gussie out of that?”
“It’s on account he’s the best-dressed bouncer in the county. You know, the tuxedo. He gets all gussied up to go to work. That’s how he got that one. I hope you didn’t let him get away with puttin’ that knot on your lip.”
“We had a little discussion in the parking lot before I left.”
Iverson laughed.
“I like you, Bosch. You’re a tough nut.”
“I’m not sure I like you yet, Iverson. I’m still not happy about you people trying to take over my case.”
“It’ll work out for all of us. You’re going to clear your case and we’re going to take a couple of major douche bags out of the picture. City fathers are going to be smiling all around.”
“We’ll see.”
“There’s one other thing,” Iverson said. “We were already working a tip on Lucky when you showed up.”
“What are you talking about?”
“We got a tip. It was anonymous. Came in Sunday to the bureau. Guy won’t give his name but says he was in a strip club the night before and hears a couple of big guys talking about a hit. He heard one call the other Lucky.”
“What else?”
“Just something about the guy being put in the trunk and then getting capped.”
“Felton know this when I talked to him yesterday?”
“No, it hadn’t filtered up to him. It came up last night after he found out the prints you brought matched Goshen. One of the guys in the bureau had taken the tip and was going to check it out. Put out a flier on it. It would’ve eventually gotten over there to L.A. and you woulda come calling. You’re just here sooner rather than later.”
They had completely left the urban sprawl of the city and the chocolate-brown mountain chain rose in front of them. There were sporadic patches of neighborhoods. Homes that were built way out and were waiting for the city to catch up. Bosch had been out this way once before on an investigation, going to a retired cop’s house. It had reminded him of no-man’s-land then and it still did now.
“Tell me about Joey Marks,” Bosch said. “You said he’s trying to go legitimate?”
“No, I said he’s trying to give the appearance of legitimacy. That’s two different things. Guy like that, he’ll never be legitimate. He can clean up his act, but he’s always going to be a grease spot on the road.”
“What’s he into? If you believe the media, the mob was run out of town to make way for all the All-American family.”
“Yeah, I know the tune. It’s true, though. Vegas has changed in ten years. When I first made it to the bureau, you could practically take your pick of the casinos and go to work. They all had connections. If it wasn’t the front office, then it was the suppliers, the unions, whatever. Now it’s cleaned up. It’s gone from sin city to fuckin’ Disneyland. We got more water slides than whorehouses now. I think I liked it the old way. Had more of an edge, know what I mean?”
“Yeah, I know what you mean.”
“Anyway, the important thing is we ninety-nine percent have the mob out of the casinos. That’s the good thing. But there’s still