do you want on it?" the kid asked.
"What do you like?"
"Sausage and pepperoni. Hate anchovies."
"Make it anchovies."
Bosch walked back to the detective bureau. Wish and Sharkey were silent when he walked back into the small interview room, and he had the feeling they had not been talking much. Wish had no feel for the boy. She sat to Sharkey's right. Bosch took the seat on his left. The only window was a small square of mirrored glass in the door. People could look in but not out. Bosch decided to be up front with the boy from the start. He was a kid, but he was probably wiser than most of the men who had sat on the Slider before him. If he sensed deceit, he would start answering questions in one-syllable words.
"Sharkey, we are going to tape this because it might help us later to go over it," Bosch said. "Like I said, you are not a suspect, so you don't have to worry about what you say, unless of course you're going to say you did it."
"See what I mean?" the boy protested. "I knew you'd get around to saying that and putting on the tape. Shit, I been in one of these rooms before, you know."
"That's why we aren't bullshitting you. So let's say it once for the record. I'm Harry Bosch, LAPD, this is Eleanor Wish, FBI, and you are Edward Niese, AKA Sharkey. I want to start by—"
"What's this shit? Was that the president what got dragged in that pipe? What's the FBI doing here?"
"Sharkey!" Bosch said loudly. "Cool it. It's just an exchange program. Like when you used to go to school and the kids would come from France or someplace. Think like she's from France. She's just kinda watching and learning from the pros." He smiled and winked at Wish. Sharkey looked over at her and smiled a little, too. "First question, Sharkey, let's get it out of the way so we can get to the good stuff. Did you do the guy up at the dam?"
"Fuck no. I see—"
"Wait a minute, wait a minute," Wish broke in. She looked at Bosch. "Can we go outside a moment?"
Bosch got up and walked out. She followed, and this time she closed the interview room door.
"What are you doing?" he said.
"What are you doing? Are you going to read that kid his rights, or do you want to taint this interview from the start?"
"What are you talking about? He didn't do it. He isn't a suspect. I'm just asking him questions because I'm trying to establish an interrogation pattern."
"We don't know he isn't the killer. I think we should give him his rights."
"We read him his rights and he is going to think we think he's a suspect, not a witness. We do that and we might as well go in there and talk to the walls. He won't remember a thing."
She walked back into the interview room without another word. Bosch followed and picked up where he had left off, without saying anything about anybody's rights.
"You do the guy in the pipe, Sharkey?"
"No way, man. I seen him, that's all. He was already dead."
The boy looked to his right at Wish as he said this. Then he pulled himself up in his chair.
"Okay, Sharkey," Bosch said, "By the way, how old are you, where you from, tell me a couple of things like that."
"Almost eighteen, man, then I'm free," the boy said, looking at Bosch. "My mom lives up in Chatsworth, but I try not to live with—man, you already got all of this in one of your little notebooks."
"You a faggot, Sharkey?"
"No way, man," the boy said, staring hard at Bosch. "I sell them pictures, big fucking deal. I ain't one of 'em."
"You do more'n sell pictures to them? You roll a few when you get the chance? Bust 'em up, take their money. Who's going to file a complaint? Right?"
Now Sharkey looked back over to Wish and raised an open hand. "I don't do that shit. I thought we're talking about the dead guy."
"We are, Sharkey," Bosch said. "I just want to figure out who we're dealing with here, is all. Take it from the top. Tell us the story. I got pizza coming and there's more cigarettes. We got the time."
"It won't take any time. I din't see anything, except the body in there. I hope there's no anchovies."
He said this looking at Wish while pulling himself up in the chair.