The Night Fire (Harry Bosch #22) - Michael Connelly Page 0,117

sitting on the pink bench second closest to the elevator building in Grand Park. The closest bench was occupied by a vagrant who was lying with his head propped up on a dirty duffel bag and reading a paperback with the cover torn off. Bosch did not know if Reyes knew what he looked like but he doubted that he would be mistaken for the man reading.

Ten minutes past the designated meeting time, Bosch was about to give up on Reyes. He was seated on the bench at an angle that gave him an open view of anyone walking across the park from the direction of the Police Administration Building. But nobody was coming. Bosch leaned forward to push himself up and not put stress on his knee when he heard his name spoken from behind. He didn’t turn. He waited and a man in a suit came around the bench from behind him. Bosch noted the uneven drape of the suit jacket over the hips and knew the man was carrying. He was mid-thirties and completely bald on top, with a monk’s fringe around the sides.

“Reyes?”

“That’s right.”

The man sat down on the bench.

“I almost went to the guy over there with the book,” Reyes said. “But I figured you had a little more dignity than that.”

“That’s funny, Orlando,” Bosch responded.

“So, what can I do for you, Bosch? I have to get out to Duarte and traffic’s going to be a motherfucker.”

Bosch pointed toward the elevator building. They were at an angle similar to that seen from the camera on the courthouse facade behind them. They could not see the place where Judge Montgomery had been fatally stabbed.

“Tell me about the juror,” Bosch said.

“Who?” Reyes said. “What juror?”

“The witness. Laurie Lee Wells. Your name is on the report. You interviewed her.”

“Is that what this is about? Forget it, we’re not going to go over every step of the investigation. She was a waste of time and now you’re wasting my time. I’m going home.”

Reyes stood up to leave.

“Sit down, Orlando,” Bosch said. “She was the killer and you missed it. Sit down and I’ll tell you about it.”

Reyes stayed standing. He pointed down at Bosch.

“Bullshit,” he said. “You’re just looking for absolution. You got the real killer kicked free and now you’re grabbing at straws. That woman didn’t see anything, didn’t hear anything. She was listening to Guns N’ Roses, Bosch. Turned up loud.”

“That’s a nice detail,” Bosch said. “It wasn’t in your report. Neither was anything about checking her out.”

“I checked her out. She was clean.”

“You mean you ran her name. But if you had gone to her apartment and knocked on her door, you would have seen that the real Laurie Lee Wells of Dickens Street, Sherman Oaks, was not the Laurie Lee Wells you interviewed. You got duped, Orlando. Sit down and we can exchange information. I’ll tell you about it.”

Reyes was hesitant, even jumpy. It was as if one foot wanted to head toward Duarte and the other wanted to go to the bench. Bosch threw his final argument at him.

“Do you know that the supposed juror you talked to is suspect number one on another RHD case? The crispy critter they picked up the other night. That was a hit disguised as something else. Just like Montgomery.”

Reyes finally sat down.

“Okay, Bosch, let’s hear it. And it better be good.”

“No, it doesn’t work that way. You talk to me first. I want to know about the interview. How you found her, where you talked to her. You talk to me, then I talk to you.”

Reyes shook his head, annoyed that he had to go first. But then he started telling the story.

“Simple. We collected video, then we watched the video. We saw the woman and identified the jury tag. I forget what Gussy was doing but I came over on my own. We didn’t have a name, obviously, so I asked to look around the jury assembly room. Nobody matched her. The jury clerk told me they had sent three groups up to courtrooms for jury selection that day. I checked those out, too, and still didn’t see her. I knew she couldn’t already be on a case because she was coming in too early for that. On the tape, I mean. Trials don’t start till ten each day. She’s on the tape before eight.”

“So how’d you find her?”

“The jury clerk told me to check out the cafeteria next to the jury assembly room. I did