The Night Fire (Harry Bosch #22) - Michael Connelly Page 0,10
loved that place. Loved going to Union Station.”
“I already miss it. It was my go-to place during trial. It was there twenty years—in this town that says something.”
Haller leaned forward and spoke to his driver.
“Stace, take us over to Chinatown,” he said. “The Little Jewel.”
“You got it,” the driver said.
Haller’s driver was a woman and Bosch had never seen that before. Haller had always used former clients to drive the Lincoln. Men paying off their legal fees. He wondered what Stace was paying off. She was mid-forties, black, and looked like a schoolteacher, not someone drawn from the streets, as Haller’s drivers usually were.
“So what did you think?” Haller asked. “About the trial?” Bosch replied. “You scored your points about the confession. Is your DNA expert going to be that good? Her ‘specialty field of DNA analysis’—how much of that was bullshit?”
“None of it. But we’ll see. She’s good but I don’t know if she’s good enough.”
“And she’s really coming in from New York?”
“I told you, none of it was bullshit.”
“So what’s she going to do? Attack the lab? Say they blew it?”
Bosch was tired of that defense. It may have worked for O. J. Simpson but that was a long time ago and there were so many other factors involved in that case. Big factors. The science of DNA was too good. A match was a match. If you wanted to knock it down you needed something other than to attack the science.
“I don’t know what she’s going to say,” Haller said. “That’s our deal. She’ll never shill. She calls them like she sees them.”
“Well, like I told you, I’ve been following the case,” Bosch said. “Knocking down the confession is one thing. But DNA’s another. You need to do something. You have the case file with you?”
“Most of it—all the trial prep. It’s in the trunk. Why?”
“I was thinking I could take a look at it for you. If you want, I mean. No promises. Just that something didn’t seem right in there when I was watching. Something was poking at me.”
“With the testimony? What?”
“I don’t know. Something that doesn’t add up.”
“Well, I’ve got tomorrow and then that’s it. No other witnesses. If you’re going to look, I need it today.”
“No problem. Right after lunch.”
“Fine. Knock yourself out. How’s the knee, by the way?”
“Good. Better every day.”
“Pain?”
“No pain.”
“You didn’t call because you’ve got a malpractice case, did you?”
“No, not that.”
“Then what?”
Bosch looked at the driver’s eyes in the rearview. She couldn’t help overhearing things. He didn’t want to talk in front of her.
“Wait till we sit down,” he said.
“Sure,” Haller said.
The Little Jewel was in Chinatown but it didn’t serve Chinese food. It was pure Cajun. They ordered at the counter and then got a table in a reasonably quiet corner. Bosch had gone with a shrimp po’boy sandwich. Haller had ordered the fried oyster po’boy and paid for both.
“So, new driver?” Bosch asked.
“Been with me three months,” Haller said. “No, four. She’s good.”
“She a client?”
“Actually, the mother of a client. Her son’s in county for a year on possession. We beat an intent-to-sell package, which wasn’t bad at all on my part. Mom said she’d work off the fees driving.”
“You’re all heart.”
“Man’s gotta pay the bills. We’re not all happy-go-lucky pensioners like you.”
“Yeah, that’s me all right.”
Haller smiled. He had successfully represented Bosch a few years earlier when the city tried to pull his pension.
“And this case,” Bosch said. “Herstadt. How’d you end up being appointed? I thought you didn’t handle murder cases anymore.”
“I don’t but the judge assigned it to me,” Haller said. “One day I was in his courtroom minding my own business on another case and he tags me with it. I’m like, ‘I don’t do murder cases, Judge, especially high-profile cases like this,’ and he’s, ‘You do now, Mr. Haller.’ So here I am with a fucking unwinnable case and getting paid hamburger when I usually get steak.”
“How come the PD didn’t take it?”
“Conflict of interest. The victim, Judge Montgomery, was formerly the Public Defender, remember?”
“Right, right. I forgot.”
Their numbers were called and Bosch went up to the counter to get their sandwiches and drinks. After he delivered the food to the table, Haller got down to the business of their meeting.
“So, you call me up in the middle of a trial and say you need to talk. So talk. Are you in some kind of trouble?”
“No, nothing like that.”
Bosch thought a moment before continuing. He had set up the meeting and now