Trunk Music - Michael Connelly [92]
“Detective Bosch?”
Bosch tensed and didn’t answer.
“There’s someone outside who would like to talk to you.”
“Who?”
“He’ll tell you who he is and what his business is.”
The man walked out the front door, leaving it up to Bosch whether to follow. He hesitated a moment and did.
There was a stretch limousine in the parking lot, its engine running. The man in the black suit walked around and got into the driver’s seat. Bosch watched this for a moment and then walked toward the limo. He brought his arm up instinctively and brushed it against his coat until he felt the reassuring shape of his gun beneath it. As he did this, the rear door closest to him opened and a man with a rough, dark face beckoned to him. Bosch showed no hesitation. It was too late now.
Bosch ducked into the big car and took a seat facing the rear. There were two men sitting on the plushly padded backseat. One was the rough-faced man, who was casually dressed and slouching in his luxurious spot, and the other an older man in an expensive three-piece suit, the tie pulled tight to his neck. Sitting between the two men on a padded armrest was a small black box with a green light glowing on it. Bosch had seen such a box before. It detected electronic radio waves emitted by eavesdropping devices. As long as that green light glowed they could talk and be reasonably assured they wouldn’t be overheard and recorded.
“Detective Bosch,” the rough-faced man said.
“Joey Marks, I presume.”
“My name is Joseph Marconi.”
“What can I do for you, Mr. Marconi?”
“I thought we’d have a little conversation, that’s all. You, me and my attorney here.”
“Mr. Torrino?”
The other man nodded.
“Heard you lost a client today.”
“That’s what we want to talk to you about,” Marconi said. “We’ve got a problem here. We —”
“How did you know where I was?”
“I’ve had some fellows watching it for me. We kind of figured you’d be back. Once you left that note, especially.”
They had obviously followed him and he wondered when that had started. His mind then jumped to another conclusion and he suddenly knew what the meeting was all about.
“Where’s Eleanor Wish?”
“Eleanor Wish?” Marconi looked at Torrino and then back at Bosch. “I don’t know her. But I suppose she’ll turn up.”
“What do you want, Marconi?”
“I just wanted this chance to talk, that’s all. Just a little calm conversation. We’ve got a problem here and maybe we can work it out. I want to work with you, Detective Bosch. Do you want to work with me?”
“Like I said, what do you want?”
“What I want is to straighten this out before it gets too far out of hand. You are going down the wrong road here, Detective. You are a good man. I had you checked out. You’ve got ethics and I appreciate that. Whatever you do in life, you need a code of ethics. You have that. But you are on the wrong road here. Tony Aliso, I had nothing to do with that.”
Bosch smirked and shook his head.
“Look, Marconi, I don’t want your alibi. I’m sure it’s airtight but I could care less. You can still pull a trigger from three hundred fifty miles away. It’s been done from farther away, know what I mean?”
“Detective Bosch, there is something wrong here. Whatever that rat bastard is telling you, it’s a lie. I’m clean on Tony A., my people are clean on Tony A., and I’m simply giving you this opportunity to make it right.”
“Yeah, and how do I do that? Just kick Lucky loose so you can pick him up outside the jail in your limo here, take him for a ride out into the desert? Think we’ll ever see Lucky again?”
“You think you’ll ever see that lady ex-FBI agent again?”
Bosch stared at him a moment, letting his anger build up until he felt a slight tremor tick in his neck. Then, in one quick move, he pulled his gun and leaned across the space between the seats. He grabbed the thick gold braided chain around Marconi’s neck and jerked him forward. He pressed the barrel deep into Marconi’s cheek.
“Excuse me?”
“Easy now, Detective Bosch,” Torrino said then. “You don’t want to do something