the phone.
There were three messages on the phone tape at his home, all of them from Pounds saying the same thing. "Call me."
But he didn't. Instead, he called the homicide table first. It was Saturday night but the chances were it would still be all hands on deck because of Porter. Jerry Edgar answered.
"What's the situation?"
"Shit, man, you gotta come in." He was speaking in a very low voice. "Everybody's looking for you. RHD's got the lead on this thing so I don't know exactly what's happening. I'm just one of the gofers. But, I think, uh, . . . I don't know, man."
"What? Say it."
"It's like they think you either did Porter or you might be next. It's hard to gauge what the fuck they're doing or thinking."
"Who's there?"
"Everybody. This is the command post. Irving's in there in the box with Ninety-eight now."
Bosch knew he couldn't let it go on much further. He had to call in. He might have already damaged himself beyond repair.
"Okay," he said. "I'm going to call them. I have to make one other call first. Thanks."
Bosch hung up and dialed another number, hoping he had remembered it correctly and that she would be home. It was near seven and he thought maybe she had gone out for dinner, but then she picked up on the sixth ring.
"It's Bosch. A bad time?"
"What do you want?" Teresa said. "Where are you? Everybody's looking for you, you know."
"I heard. But I'm outta town. I was just calling 'cause I heard they found my friend Lucius Porter."
"Yeah, they did. Sorry. I just got back from the cut."
"Yeah, I figured you'd do it."
And then silence before she said, "Harry, why do I get the feeling you want—that you aren't calling just because he was your friend?"
"Well . . ."
"Oh, shit, here we go again, right?"
"No. I just wanted to know how he got it is all. He was a friend. I worked with him. Never mind."
"I don't know why I let you do this to me. Shit. Mexican necktie, Harry. There, you happy? Got all you need now?"
"Garrote?"
"Yes. Steel baling wire, wrapped at the ends around two wooden pegs. I'm sure you've seen it before. Do I get to read this in the Times tomorrow, too?"
He was silent until he was sure she was done. He looked from the bed to the open window and saw the daylight was now completely gone. The sky was a deep red wine. He thought of the man at Poe's. Three tears.
"Did you do a compar—"
"Comparison to the Jimmy Kapps case? Yes. We're way ahead of you, but it won't be done for a few days."
"How come?"
"Because it takes that long to do wood-fiber testing between the dowel pegs and alloy-content analysis on the baling wire. We did do a cut analysis on the wire, though. It looks very good."
"Meaning?"
"Meaning it looks like the wire on the garrote used to kill Porter was cut from the same length of wire used to kill Kapps. The ends match. It's not one hundred percent because similar pliers will leave similar cut tracings. So we are doing the metal-alloy comparison. We'll know in a few days."
She seemed so matter-of-fact about it all. He was surprised she was still angry with him. The television reports of the night before seemed to be in her favor. He didn't know what to say. He had gone from being at ease in bed with her to being nervous on the phone with her.
"Thanks, Teresa," he finally said. "I'll see you."
"Harry?" she said before he could hang up.
"Yeah?"
"When you get back, I don't think you should call me again. I think we should keep it professional. If we see each other in the suite, then that's fine. But let's leave it there."
He didn't say anything.
"Okay?"
"Sure."
They hung up. Bosch sat without moving for several minutes. Finally, he picked the phone up again and dialed the direct line into the glass box. Pounds picked up immediately.
"It's Bosch."
"Where are you?"
"Mexicali. You left messages?"
"I called the hotel on your tape. They said you never checked in."
"I decided to stay on the other side of the border."
"Never mind the bullshit. Porter is dead."
"What!" Bosch tried his best to make it seem real. "What happened? I just saw him yesterday. He—"
"Never mind the bullshit, Bosch. What are you doing down there?"
"You told me to go where the case followed. It led here."
"I never told you to go to Mexico." He was yelling. "I want you back here