Trunk Music - Michael Connelly [67]
“I’m sorry,” Eleanor said. “I’m getting you in trouble.”
“No, you’re not. It’s all on me. Everything is on me.”
A few minutes later he walked back into Felton’s office. The captain looked up at him wordlessly.
“She was paying off Quillen to leave her alone. Two hundred a week. That was all it was. The street tax. She doesn’t know anything about anything. She happened by chance to be at the same table as Aliso for about an hour Friday. She’s clean. Now kick her loose. Tell your people.”
Felton leaned back and started tapping his lower lip with the end of a pen. He was showing Bosch his deep-thinking pose.
“I don’t know,” he said.
“Okay, this is the deal. You let her go and I make a call to my people.”
“And what’ll you tell ’em?”
“I’ll tell them I’ve gotten excellent cooperation from Metro out here and that we ought to run this as a joint operation. I’ll say we’re going to put the squeeze on Goshen here and go for the two-for-one sale. We’re going to go for Goshen and Joey Marks because Marks was the one who would’ve ultimately pushed the button on Tony Aliso. I’ll say it’s highly recommended that Metro take the lead out here because they know the turf and they know Marks. Do we have a deal?”
Felton tapped out another code message on his lip, then reached over and turned the phone on his desk so Bosch could have access to it.
“Make the call now,” he said. “After you talk to your CO, put me on the line. I want to talk to him.”
“It’s a her.”
“Whatever.”
A half hour later Bosch was driving a borrowed unmarked Metro car with Eleanor Wish sitting crumpled in the passenger seat. The call to Lieutenant Billets had gone over well enough for Felton to keep his end of the deal. Eleanor was kicked loose, though the damage was pretty much done. She had been able to eke out a new start and a new existence, but the underpinnings of confidence and pride and security had all been kicked out from beneath her. It was all because of Bosch and he knew it. He drove in silence, unable to even fathom what to say or how to make it better. And it cut him deeply because he truly wanted to. Before the previous night he had not seen her in five years, but she had never been far from his deepest thoughts, even when he had been with other women. There had always been a voice back there that whispered to him that Eleanor Wish was the one. She was the match.
“They’re always going to come for me,” she said in a small voice.
“What?”
“You remember that Bogart movie where the cop says, ‘Round up the usual suspects,’ and they go out and do it? Well, that’s me now. They are going to mean me. I guess I never realized that until now. I’m one of the usual suspects. I guess I should thank you for slapping me in the face with reality.”
Bosch said nothing. He didn’t know how to respond because her words were true.
In a few minutes they were at her apartment and Bosch walked her in and sat her on the couch.
“You okay?”
“Fine.”
“When you get a chance, look around and make sure they didn’t take anything.”
“I didn’t have anything to take.”
Bosch looked at the Nighthawks print on the wall above her. It was a painting of a lonely coffee shop on a dark night. A man and a woman sitting together, another man by himself. Bosch used to think he was the man alone. Now he stared at the couple and wondered.
“Eleanor,” he said. “I have to go back. I’ll come back here as soon as I can.”
“Okay, Harry, thanks for getting me out.”
“You going to be okay?”
“Sure.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
Back at Metro, Iverson was waiting for Bosch before they took their first shot at Goshen. Felton had acceded to leaving Goshen for Bosch. It was still his case.
In the hallway outside the interview room, Iverson tapped Bosch on the arm to stop him before going in.
“Listen, Bosch, I just want to say I don’t know what you got going on with that woman and I guess it’s nobody’s business anymore since the captain let her go, but since we’re going to be working together on Lucky here, I thought I’d clear the air. I didn’t appreciate the way you spoke to me, telling me to