“Okay, I’m on my way. Thanks for the wake-up.”
“You sure you’re all right?”
“I’m fine.”
Ballard quickly dressed and headed down to the garage. Her car was there because she had disregarded EMT Single’s orders and driven herself home after checking out with the watch lieutenant the night before.
She took Hillhurst all the way to Beverly and then over to Occidental. She found a spot at the curb a half block away and called Bosch.
“I’m here. Are you still in place?”
“I’m here.”
“Okay, I’m going to go in. I’ll see if we can talk to the widow after.”
“Sounds good.”
“Anybody else of note arrive?”
“There’s a lot of obvious bangers, tattooed to the ears. You want me to go in with you?”
“No, I’ll be fine. Do you think it’s worth following Hoyle, if it was Hoyle you saw?”
“I don’t know. Where’s he going to go on a Sunday night? He’s probably just here for appearances. There might be suspicions if he didn’t show — you know what I mean?”
“Yeah. But wait till the widow Raffa finds out what’s going on.”
“You’re going to tell her in there?”
“No, I’ll wait. Okay, I’m going now.”
Ballard disconnected and exited her car. She walked up the street and followed a few stragglers arriving late. She hurried to follow them in and use them as cover. The memorial was in a chapel to the side of the main church. That made it too crowded to enter and Ballard stood in the hallway outside with the stragglers. There were speakers in the ceiling, so she heard the testimonials and tearful memories from friends and co-workers as well as a hymn sung by the crowd. The hymn and most of the testimonials were in Spanish. Ballard understood enough to know that many people were lamenting that Javier Raffa had left the violent life to raise a family and run a business, yet in the end, violence still found him and took it all away.
After forty-five minutes, the ceremony ended and the immediate family left the chapel first to form a receiving line outside the door. Ballard hung back and watched from one of the archways that lined the walkway that ran down the side of the church.
She soon saw Javier Raffa’s silent partner, Dr. Dennis Hoyle, emerge in the line from the chapel. Ballard recognized him from the studio photos on his family dentistry website. He was all angles: thin, sharp shoulders and elbows. He had graying hair and a salt-and-pepper goatee.
Ballard realized this might be the best time to talk to him, when he least expected to be questioned by the police. She quickly texted Bosch her plan and then watched when it was Hoyle’s turn to go down the family line. It was clear he was meeting them for the first time, even the widow. He hugged none of them and gave the widow a two-handed sympathy grasp. He leaned forward to say something to her or possibly identify himself, but Ballard’s read on the widow’s facial expression and body language was that she had no idea who he was.
Javier Raffa’s son, Gabriel, was at the end of the receiving line. Hoyle simply nodded once and gave the young man a hang-in-there clap on the shoulder, then headed away with a look of pure relief on his face. Ballard used her arm to hold her jacket closed over the badge on her belt. She let Hoyle pass by and then turned to follow him.
As Hoyle headed toward the street, Ballard could see Bosch standing out on the sidewalk. He was wearing a suit, just in case he needed to go into the memorial service. But the suit also worked for what they were about to do.
Ballard followed Hoyle out and picked up speed to catch up. Bosch positioned himself in the middle of the sidewalk, slowing Hoyle down as he decided which way to go.
“Dr. Hoyle?” Ballard said.
Hoyle spun around as if shocked that anyone in this part of town would know him by name.
“Uh, yes?” he said.
Ballard pulled her jacket open to show the badge as well as her gun holstered on her hip.
“I’m Detective Ballard with the LAPD. This is my colleague Harry Bosch.”
She gestured to Bosch, who was now behind Hoyle. The dentist whipped back to look at Bosch and then forward again at Ballard.
“Yes?” he said.
“I’m investigating the murder of Javier Raffa,” Ballard said. “I would like to ask you a few questions, if you have the time.”
“Me?” Hoyle said. “Why would you want to ask me questions?”
“Well, for starters, you were his partner, were you not?”
“Well, yes, but I don’t know anything about what happened. I mean, I wasn’t even there.”
“That’s okay. We need to be thorough and talk to anybody who knew him. If you were his partner, you must have known him pretty well.”
“It was a business investment, that’s all.”
“Okay, that’s good to know. Where are you parked? Maybe we should get away from the church and talk.”
“Um, I’m over here but I—”
“Lead the way.”
Hoyle drove a four-door Mercedes and by coincidence had parked right behind Bosch’s old Jeep. Neither Bosch nor Ballard mentioned this, because it would possibly put cracks in the charade that Bosch was an LAPD detective. When they got to Hoyle’s car, he pulled the remote key from his pocket and unlocked the doors. He then turned to Ballard and Bosch.
“You know, right now is not a good time to talk,” he said. “I’ve just been to my friend’s memorial and I’m kind of emotional about it. I just want to go home. Can we—”
“How did you know?” Ballard interrupted.
“How did I know he was dead?” Hoyle said. “It was in the paper — online.”
Ballard paused for a moment in case Hoyle sputtered out something else. He didn’t.
“No, I mean how did you know he was looking for a partner?” she said. “An investor. Somebody to buy him out of the gang.”
For a second, Hoyle’s eyes widened. He was surprised by her knowledge.
“I... Well, I have advisers for this sort of thing,” Hoyle said.
“Really?” Ballard asked. “Who is that? I’d like to speak to them.”
“I told you, now is not a good time. Can I go?”
Ballard held her hands wide as if to say she wasn’t keeping him from leaving.
“So I can go?” Hoyle said.
“It would be better for you, Dr. Hoyle, if we cleared some of this up now,” Ballard said.
“Cleared up what? You just said I could go.”
“No, I said it would be better for you to talk to us right now, right here. I don’t think you want us coming by your office, do you?”
Hoyle flung the door of his car open and it promptly swung back closed. Exasperated, he opened it again and held it.
“I’ve done nothing wrong and you are harassing me!”
He jumped in the car and slammed the door. He fired up the engine and took off from the curb, driving by Ballard and Bosch.
“If he thinks that was harassment, he hasn’t seen anything yet,” Ballard said.
Bosch stood next to her and they watched the Mercedes drive north on Occidental.
“Did I come on too strong?” Ballard asked.
“He thinks so,” said Bosch.
“Fuck ’im.”
“He’s probably calling his partners right now. Did you want that?”
“I wanted them to know I’m here.”
21
Ballard and Bosch went back to the church to see if the family was finished with the procession of well-wishers. There was no one at the door of the chapel. Ballard looked inside and saw the widow and the daughters but not the son, Gabriel.
“I need to find Gabriel so he can translate if needed,” she said. “Stay here in case they start to leave.”
“I’ll stall them,” Bosch said.