on his own. He hardly knew the woman—he didn't know the woman— but he found himself hoping she hadn't lied to him.
"I only started the reports this morning," Bosch said. "I was going to bring them up to date after seeing the FBI. Obviously, I didn't get the chance."
"Well, I'm saving you the time," Pounds said. "It's been turned over to the FBI."
"What has? The FBI has no jurisdiction over this. This is a murder case."
"Rourke said they believe the slaying is directly related to their ongoing investigation of the bank job. They will include this in their investigation. We will assign our own case officer through an interdepartmental liaison. If and when the time comes to charge someone in the murder, the appointed officer will take it to the DA for state charges."
"Christ, Pounds, there is something going on. Don't you see that?"
Pounds put the ruler back in the drawer and closed it.
"Yes, something is going on. But I don't see it your way," he said. "That's it, Bosch. That's an order. You are off. These two men want to talk to you and you are on a desk till Internal Affairs is finished with its investigation."
He was quiet a moment before beginning again in a solemn tone. A man unhappy with what be had to say.
"You know, you were sent out here to me last year and I could have put you anywhere. I could have put you on the goddam burglary table, handling fifty reports a week, just buried you in paper. But I didn't. I recognized your skills and put you on homicide, what I thought you wanted. They told me last year that you're good but you don't stay in the lines. Now I see they were right. How this will hurt me, I don't know. But I'm not worrying about what's best for you anymore. Now, you can either talk to these guys or not. I don't really care. But that's it. We're done, you and me. If somehow you ride this one out, you better see about getting a transfer, because you won't be on my homicide table anymore."
Pounds picked up the blue binder off his desk and stood up. As he headed out of the office he said, "I have to get somebody to take this over to the bureau. You men can have the office as long as you need it."
He closed the door and was gone. Bosch thought about it and decided he really couldn't fault Pounds for what he had said, or done. He took out a cigarette and lit it.
"Hey, no smoking, you heard the man," Lewis said.
"Fuck off," Bosch said.
"Bosch, you're dead," Clarke said. "We're going to toast your ass right this time. You aren't the hero you once were. No PR problems this time. Nobody's going to give a shit about what happens to you."
Then he stood up and turned the tape recorder back on. He recited the date, the names of the three men present and the Internal Affairs case number assigned to the investigation. Bosch realized the number was about seven hundred higher than the case number from the internal investigation nine months earlier that sent him to Hollywood. Nine months, and seven hundred other cops have been through the bullshit wringer, he thought. One day there will be no one left to do what it says on the side of every patrol car, to serve and protect.
"Detective Bosch"—Lewis took over then in a modulated, calm tone—"we would like to ask you questions regarding the investigation of the death of William Meadows. Will you tell us of any past association with or knowledge you had of the decedent."
"I refuse to answer any questions without an attorney present," Bosch said. "I cite my right to representation under California's Policeman's Bill of Rights."
"Detective Bosch, the department administration does not recognize that aspect of the Policeman's Bill of Rights. You are commanded to answer these questions, and if you do not you will be subject to suspension and possible dismissal. You—"
"Can you loosen these handcuffs, please?" Bosch said.
"What?" Lewis cried out, losing his calm, confident tone.
Clarke stood up and went to the tape recorder and bent over it.
"Detective Bosch is not handcuffed and there are two witnesses here who can attest to that fact," he said.
"Just the two that cuffed me," Bosch said. "And beat me. This is a direct violation of my civil rights. I request that a union rep and my attorney be present before