The Brass Verdict - Michael Connelly Page 0,15

scene is out in the garage, and no judge in L.A. would let you extend it to this office and these files. It’s time for you to leave and for me to take care of my clients.”

He made no move to read the court order or to vacate the premises.

“If I leave,” he said, “I’m going to shut this place down and seal it.”

I hated getting into pissing matches with cops but sometimes there was no choice.

“You do that and I’ll have it unsealed in an hour. And you’ll be standing in front of the chief judge of the superior court explaining how you trampled on the rights of every one of Vincent’s clients. You know, depending on how many clients we’re talking about, that might be a record – even for the LAPD.”

The detective smiled at me like he was mildly amused by my threats. He held up the court order.

“You say this gives you all of these cases?”

“That’s right, for now.”

“The entire law practice?”

“Yes, but each client will decide whether to stick with me or find someone else.”

“Well, I guess that puts you on our list.”

“What list?”

“Our suspect list.”

“That’s ridiculous. Why would I be on it?”

“You just told us why. You inherited all of the victim’s clients. That’s got to amount to some sort of a financial windfall, doesn’t it? He’s dead and you get the whole business. Think that’s enough motivation for murder? Care to tell us where you were last night between eight and midnight?”

He grinned at me again without any warmth, giving me that cop’s practiced smile of judgment. His brown eyes were so dark I couldn’t see the line between iris and pupil. Like shark eyes, they didn’t seem to carry or reflect any light.

“I’m not even going to begin to explain how ludicrous that is,” I said. “But for starters you can check with the judge and you’ll find out that I didn’t even know I was in line for this.”

“So you say. But don’t worry, we’ll be checking you out completely.”

“Good. Now please leave this room or I make the call to the judge.”

The detective stepped back to the table and took his jacket off the chair. He carried it rather than put it on. He picked a file up off the table and brought it toward me. He shoved it into my chest until I took it from him.

“Here’s one of your new files back, Counselor. Don’t choke on it.”

He stepped through the door, and his partner went with him. I followed them out into the office and decided to take a shot at reducing the tension. I had a feeling it wouldn’t be the last time I saw them.

“Look, detectives, I’m sorry it’s like this. I try to have a good relationship with the police and I am sure we can work something out. But at the moment my obligation is to the clients. I don’t even know what I have here. Give me some time to-”

“We don’t have time,” the older man said. “We lose momentum and we lose the case. Do you understand what you’re getting yourself into here, Counselor?”

I looked at him for a moment, trying to understand the meaning behind his question.

“I think so, Detective. I’ve only been working cases for about eighteen years but-”

“I’m not talking about your experience. I’m talking about what happened in that garage. Whoever killed Vincent was waiting for him out there. They knew where he was and just how to get to him. He was ambushed.”

I nodded like I understood.

“If I were you,” the detective said, “I’d watch myself with those new clients of yours. Jerry Vincent knew his killer.”

“What about when he was a prosecutor? He put people in prison. Maybe one of-”

“We’ll check into it. But that was a long time ago. I think the person we’re looking for is in those files.”

With that, he and his partner started moving toward the door.

“Wait,” I said. “You have a card? Give me a card.”

The detectives stopped and turned back. The older one pulled a card out of his pocket and gave it to me.

“That’s got all my numbers.”

“Let me just get the lay of the land here and then I’ll call and set something up. There’s got to be a way for us to cooperate and still not trample on anybody’s rights.”

“Whatever you say, you’re the lawyer.”

I nodded and looked down at the name on the card. Harry Bosch. I was sure I had never met the man before,

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