The Night Fire (Harry Bosch #22) - Michael Connelly Page 0,87

was to close the Hilton case, and with Dupree’s cooperation, she believed she was close. She asked Robinson to listen to the ninety-second wiretapped phone conversation set up between Dupree and Kidd late the afternoon before, assuring her that the wiretap had been authorized by Judge Billy Thornton.

One complication Ballard mentioned in introducing the wiretap was that the men on the call sounded very similar in tone and used similar street slang. Ballard repeated in her introduction to the playback that the first voice belonged to Dupree and the second voice was Kidd’s. Robinson put in her earbuds and plugged into Ballard’s computer. Ballard opened the wiretap software and played the phone call. At the same time, she gave the prosecutor a copy of a transcript she had produced during her work shift.

Dupree: Yo.

Kidd: Dog.

Dupree: That thing we were talking about? All done.

Kidd: It is?

Dupree: Motherfucker’s gone to gangsta’s paradise.

Kidd: I ain’t hear nothin’.

Dupree: And you prolly won’t out there in Rialto. The sheriffs don’t be puttin’ out press releases on convicts gettin’ killed in jail and all. That don’t look good. But you want, you can check it, my n____.

Kidd: How’s that?

Dupree: Call up the coroner. They gotta have him over there by now. Also, I hear they gonna put him out for a full gangsta’s funeral in a few days. You could come over, see him in the box for yourself.

Kidd: Nah, I ain’t doin’ that.

Dupree: I get it, seeing that you put the motherfucker in the box.

Kidd: Don’t be sayin’ that shit, n ____.

Dupree: Sorry, cuz. Anyway, it’s done. We good now?

Kidd: We good.

Dupree: You ever going to tell me the reason? I mean, that n____ was your boy back in the day. Now it come to this.

Kidd: He was putting pressure on me, man, that’s all.

Dupree: Pressure for what?

Kidd: A piece of work I had to handle back then. A white boy who owed too much money.

Dupree: Huh. And he was bringing that up now?

Kidd: He told me five-oh came round visiting him up at Bauchet and asking ’bout that thing. He then gets my number off you and calls me up. I can tell he’s on the make. He going to be trouble for me.

Dupree: Well, not anymore.

Kidd: Not anymore. I thank you, my brother.

Dupree: No thing.

Kidd: I’ll check you.

Dupree: Later, dog.

Robinson pulled out her earbuds when the call was over. Ballard held her hand up to stop her from asking any questions.

“Hold on a second,” Ballard said. “There’s another call. He does try to confirm Dorsey’s death and we had that set up with the coroner’s office.”

The next call was from Elvin Kidd to the Los Angeles County Medical Examiner’s Office, where he spoke to a coroner’s investigator named Chris Mercer. Ballard handed Robinson a second transcript and told her to put her buds back in. She then played the second recording.

Mercer: Office of the Medical Examiner, how can I help you?

Kidd: I’m trying to find out if a friend of mine is there. He supposedly got killed.

Mercer: Do you have the name?

Kidd: Yes, it’s Dorsey for the last name. And Dennard with a D like dog for the first.

Mercer: Can you spell both names, please?

Kidd: D-E-N-N-A-R-D D-O-R-S-E-Y.

Mercer: Yes, we have him here. Are you next-of-kin?

Kidd: Uh, no. Just a friend. Does it say there how he died?

Mercer: The autopsy has not been scheduled. I only know that he passed while in custody at the Men’s Central jail. There will be an investigation and we will conduct the autopsy next week. You could call back for more information then. Do you know who his next-of-kin might be?

Kidd: No, I don’t know that. Thank you.

After hearing the call to the M.E., Robinson asked to hear the first call again. Ballard watched her as she listened. Robinson nodded at certain points as though checking things off a list. She then pulled her earbuds out again.

“The code-switching is interesting,” the prosecutor said. “He sounds like two different people on the two calls. All gangster on the call with Dupree, then light and bright with the coroner’s office.”

“Yeah, he knew how to play it,” Ballard said. “So what do you think?”

Before Robinson could answer, a waitress arrived at the table. They both ordered coffees and avocado toast. After the waitress was gone, Ballard watched Robinson lean forward on the table, furrowing her brow and wrinkling the otherwise smooth, mocha-brown skin of her forehead.

“I always have to look at a case from the defense point of view,” she said.