“We still have to figure that out,” Bosch said.
“My guess is that when all of this hits the fan, Spencer’s going to cut a deal and tell us exactly how he did it. If he hires the right lawyer this time, he can probably come out of this looking like a victim. Everybody likes the lawyer for the villain. The D.A. will trade Spencer for Cronyn and Cronyn in a heartbeat.”
“Spencer’s no victim. He’s part of the frame. He’s trying to put me in the dirt.”
“I know that. I’m just giving you the reality of it. How it will play out. Spencer’s a guy who got in over his head and was played by these people.”
“Then we should go at him now. Confront him, show him the video. Get him on our side before next week.”
“Might be worth a try, but if he doesn’t crack, then we’re giving Lance Cronyn a head start on Wednesday. I’d rather sandbag the whole bunch of them in the courtroom.”
Bosch nodded. It was probably the better plan. Just then, thoughts of confronting Spencer reminded him that the property officer was currently under surveillance. He pulled his phone.
“I forgot about Cisco,” he said. “He’s watching him right now.”
Bosch made the call and Cisco answered with a whisper.
“What’s happening?” Bosch asked.
“He drove around for an hour until he was sure he had no tail,” Cisco said. “Then he drove down into Pasadena and met somebody — a woman — in the parking lot of Vroman’s.”
“What’s Vroman’s?”
“It’s a big bookstore with a big parking lot at the edge of Old Town. They’re parked window to window, you know, like cops do.”
“Who’s the woman?”
“I don’t know. She’s got dealer blanks, so I can’t run a plate.”
“Does it look like a new car?”
“No, it’s a scratched-up Prius.”
“Can you get a photo of her without getting noticed? I’m here with Haller and he might know who she is.”
“I can try. I can do the old walk-by on a call and grab video. I’ll text it to both of you.”
“Do it.”
Bosch disconnected. He knew the maneuver Cisco was undertaking. He’d start recording on his phone’s video app, then hold the phone to his ear like he was on a call and walk by the front of the subject’s car, hopefully focusing on the woman behind the wheel.
“Spencer is talking to a woman,” he reported to Haller. “Cisco’s going for some video.”
Haller nodded and they waited.
“At some point I should tell Soto,” Bosch said, mostly to himself.
“What do you mean?” Haller asked.
“She’s my ex-partner. We sandbag Cronyn, we sandbag her.”
“Do I have to remind you that she’s part of a machine that’s trying to take everything you have away from you?”
“She’s following a case where it goes.”
“Well, she took a wrong turn, didn’t she?”
“It happens.”
“Do me a favor, don’t talk to her. Not yet, at least. Wait till we’re closer and we’ve confirmed some of these theories as facts. Don’t give the LAPD the chance to flip this on us.”
“Fine. I can wait. But she wouldn’t flip things. If we set her straight with facts, we wouldn’t have to go after Cronyn or Spencer or Borders. She would.”
Before Haller could respond, their phones buzzed in unison as a text came to them both. It was the video from Cisco. They each watched on their phones. Bosch saw an unsteady frame as the camera moved down a line of cars in the bookstore parking lot. It was accompanied by the audio of Cisco’s fake phone-call banter, which was designed to help document the time and place of the recording.
“Hi, I’m at Vroman’s, the bookstore in Pasadena. It’s eight o’clock Wednesday and I’ll be here for a while. Hit me back...”
The camera moved across a row of parked cars as Cisco spoke until it came to one backed into a spot. The camera moved across the windshield and showed a woman behind the wheel. She was in profile because she was turned toward the open side window and was talking to someone in the car parked next to her. Cisco wisely stopped his faux message as he crossed in front of the car. It allowed the camera to pick up a snippet of dialogue as it was spoken by the woman and Spencer, who could not be seen in the other car.
“You’re overreacting,” she said. “Everything will be fine.”
“I’m telling you, it better be,” he said.
A few steps past the two cars, Cisco turned the phone’s camera on his own face and identified himself.
“This is Dennis Wojciechowski, California private investigator license oh-two-sixty-two, ending this recording. Ciao.”
The video ended. Bosch looked expectantly at Haller.
“It’s not a good view and I haven’t seen Kathy Cronyn since she was Kathy Zelden,” he said.
He was replaying the video and froze the playback at one point and then used two fingers to enlarge the image. He paused for a long moment as he studied it.
“Well?” Bosch finally asked.
“Yes,” Haller said. “I’m pretty sure it’s her. Katherine Cronyn.”
Bosch immediately called Cisco back. He answered Bosch with a question.
“Did he ID her?”
“He did. Katherine Cronyn. You did good, Cisco. You’re done for the night.”
“Just let him go?”
“Yeah, we got what we need and we don’t want to risk them finding out we know.”
“You got it. Tell Mick I’ll check in with him in the morning.”
“Will do.”
Bosch disconnected and looked at Haller. He was beaming.
“Can you run with it from here?” Bosch asked. “Like I told you, I’m going to drop out for a few days. At least.”
“I can run with it, but are you sure you’ve got to drop out?” Haller said. “You’re a part-timer up there. Can’t somebody else take the reins on that case?”
Bosch thought about it. His mind filled with the image of José Esquivel Jr. sprawled on the floor of the back hallway.
“No,” he finally said. “Only me.”
Part Two
The South Side of Nowhere
22
Bosch stood in front of the counter with his eyes down. A man sat there reading a newspaper printed in a foreign language. It was a different man than the goateed driver of the van. This man was older, his hair flecked with gray. He looked to Bosch like an aged enforcer who now relied on the younger generation to do the heavy lifting.
He didn’t bother to look up when he spoke to Bosch with a thick Russian accent.
“Who sent you here?” he asked.
“Nobody,” Bosch said.
The man finally looked up at him and studied his face for a moment.
“You walk here?”
“Yes.”
“From where?”
“I just want to see the doctor.”
“From where?”
“The shelter over by the courthouse.”
“That is long walk. What do you want?”
“To see the doctor.”
“How do you know there is doctor?”
“At the shelter. Somebody told me. Okay?”
“What for you need doctor?”
“I need pain medication.”
“What pain?”
Bosch stepped back, raised his cane, and lifted his leg. The man leaned forward so he could see over the counter. He then sat back and eyed Bosch.
“The doctor is very busy,” he said.
Bosch looked behind him and around the room. There were eight plastic chairs in the waiting area and all of them were empty. There was only him and the Russian.