The Brass Verdict

“We checked that name you gave me on the phone,” Bosch said. “There is one Randall Morris in the department. He’s on gang detail in South Bureau.”

I nodded.

“Yeah, well, I think it’s pretty clear now that it was a fake call. But he knew my friend’s name and he had my cell. It seemed convincing at the time, all right?”

“How did he get the woman’s name?” Armstead asked.

“Good question. I had a relationship with her – a platonic relationship – but I haven’t talked to her in almost a month.”

“Then, how would he know about her?”

“Man, you’re asking me shit I don’t know. Go ask McSweeney.”

I immediately realized I had slipped up. I wouldn’t know that name unless I had been investigating juror number seven.

Bosch looked at me curiously. I didn’t know if he realized the jury was supposed to be anonymous, even to the lawyers on the case. Before he could come up with a question, I was saved by someone yelling from the brush where I had almost been pushed over the side.

“I’ve got the gun!”

Bosch pointed a finger at my chest.

“Stay right here.”

I watched Bosch and Armstead trot over and join a few of the others as they studied the found weapon under a flashlight beam. Bosch didn’t touch the weapon but bent down into the light to examine it closely.

The William Tell Overture started to play behind me. I turned around and saw my phone lying on the gravel, its tiny square screen glowing like a beacon. I went over and picked it up. It was Cisco and I took the call.

“Cisco, I gotta call you back.”

“Make it quick. I’ve got some good shit for you. You’re going to want to know this.”

I closed the phone and watched as Bosch finished his study of the weapon and then stepped over to McSweeney. He leaned close to him and whispered something into his ear. He didn’t wait for a response. He just turned and walked back toward me. I could tell even in the dim moonlight that he was excited. Armstead was following behind him.

“The gun’s a Beretta Bobcat, like we were looking for on Vincent,” he said. “If the ballistics match, then we’ve got that guy locked in a box. I’ll make sure you get a commendation from City Hall.”

“Good. I’ll frame it.”

“Put this together for me, Haller, and you can start with him being the one who killed Vincent. Why did he want to kill you, too?”

“I don’t know.”

“The bribe,” Armstead asked. “Is he the one who got the money?”

“Same answer I gave you five minutes ago. I don’t know. But it makes sense, doesn’t it?”

“How did he know your friend’s name on the phone?”

“I don’t know that either.”

“Then, what good are you?” Bosch asked.

It was a good question and the immediate answer didn’t sit well with me.

“Look, Detective, I-”

“Don’t bother, man. Why don’t you just get in your car and get the fuck out of here? We’ll take it from here.”

He turned and started walking away and Armstead followed. I hesitated and then called out to Bosch. I waved him back. He said something to the FBI agent and came back to me alone.

“No bullshit,” he said impatiently. “I don’t have the time.”

“Okay, this is the thing,” I said. “I think he was going to make it look like I jumped.”

Bosch considered this and then shook his head.

“Suicide? Who would believe that? You’ve got the case of the decade, man. You’re hot. You’re on TV. And you’ve got a kid to worry about. Suicide wouldn’t sell.”

I nodded.

“Yes, it would.”

He looked at me and said nothing, waiting for me to explain.

“I’m a recovering addict, Bosch. You know anything about that?”

“Why don’t you tell me?”

“The story would go that I couldn’t take the pressure of the big case and all the attention, and I either had or was about to relapse. So I jumped instead of going back to that. It’s not an uncommon thing, Bosch. They call it the fast out. And it makes me think that…”

“What?”

I pointed across the clearing toward juror number seven.

“That he and whoever he was doing this for knew a lot about me. They did a deep background. They came up with my addiction and rehab and Lanie’s name. Then they came up with a solid plan for getting rid of me because they couldn’t just shoot down another lawyer without bringing down massive scrutiny on what it is they’ve got going. If I went down as a suicide, there’d be a lot less pressure.”

“Yeah, but why did they need to get rid of you?”

“I guess they think I know too much.”

“Do you?”

Before I could answer, McSweeney started yelling from the other side of the clearing.

“Hey! Over there with the lawyer. I want to make a deal. I can give you some big people, man! I want to make a deal!”

Bosch waited to see if there was more but that was it.

“My tip?” I said. “Go over there and strike while the iron’s hot. Before he remembers he’s entitled to a lawyer.”

Bosch nodded.

“Thanks, Coach,” he said. “But I think I know what I’m doing.”

He started to head across the clearing.

“Hey, Bosch, wait,” I called. “You owe me something before you go over there.”

Bosch stopped and signaled to Armstead to go to McSweeney. He then came back to me.

“What do I owe you?”