Connelly, Michael - Harry Bosch 17 - The Burning Room by Connelly Michael

Author:Connelly, Michael [Connelly, Michael]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Mystery, Thriller, Suspense
ISBN: 9780316225939
Amazon: B00IJJUIMY
Barnesnoble: B00IJJUIMY
Goodreads: 20881071
Publisher: Orion
Published: 2014-01-01T06:00:00+00:00

21

Bosch got to the squad room at eight Sunday morning and found Soto already at her desk in the cubicle. Before he could tell her about the theory that had emerged the night before on the Bonnie Brae case, she swiveled around in her chair and started talking excitedly about her own findings on the Merced case.

“Yesterday, after I left Mariachi Plaza, I went up to the Valley to see Alberto Cabral. He let me look at the band’s calendar from ’04, and I found the Broussard booking. It was a fund-raiser—”

“—for Robert Inglin.”

She looked stunned.

“You know?”

“Yes, I know.”

Bosch didn’t know whether to be mad at her for speaking to a potential witness without him or to admire her for her passion and drive on the case—to the point of putting in so much of her own time.

“You should have told me, Lucy. Talking to a witness like that, a lot of things can go wrong. Sometimes witnesses turn out to be suspects, and sometimes they’re friends with the suspects and turn around and spill everything you just told them. You have to be careful and you should have at least told me where you were going so I could have decided if I should go with you or not.”

“It was better it was just me. He opened up without you there. And speaking in Spanish.”

“That’s not the point. The point is, I should have known what you were doing and where you were. Next time shoot me a text, that’s all.”

She nodded, eyes down.

“Roger that,” she said. After a pause, she asked, “So how did you know about Inglin?”

He put the stack of binders he was carrying down on his desk, pulled out his chair, and turned it so he could face her. He sat down.

“Well, I didn’t talk to a potential witness about it. I got it from campaign finance records.”

“On a Saturday?”

“I have a friend with access.”

She looked at him suspiciously but then relented.

“Did you find out anything else?”

“Yeah, I did. In that same election year Broussard went from being all in for Inglin in January to being all in for Zeyas in May. And he stuck with Zeyas in the next election and is a primary backer of his so-called exploratory bid for the Governor’s Office.”

“What made him switch? The Merced shooting was right in the middle of that.”

Bosch pointed at her.

“The million-dollar question.”

Soto sat bolt upright.

“Oh my god, I just thought of something. One of the calls Sarah got on the tip line.”

She swiveled back to her desk and grabbed up the stack of tip reports Holcomb had brought by. Soto looked through the pages until she found what she was looking for.

“Here it is,” she said. “Tip came in Friday morning, 12:09 a.m. ‘Female caller said the mayor knows who shot Orlando Merced.’ That’s it. The call was anonymous but the register recorded the number. Do you want to call it, see who answers?”

“You really think Zeyas called in the hit on a mariachi musician?”

The question gave Soto pause.

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