The Gods of Guilt by Michael Connelly

Author:Michael Connelly [Connelly, Michael]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi, pdf
Tags: Mystery, Suspense, Thriller
ISBN: 9780316069519
Amazon: 0316069515
Barnesnoble: 0316069515
Goodreads: 17333227
Publisher: Little, Brown & Company
Published: 2013-12-01T16:00:00+00:00

25

On the way back home I decided to let the cab take me all the way to my door. I was tired from the work and news of the day and the hike up the trail at Fryman Canyon. I figured even if someone was watching my house and car, he would only be able to puzzle over where I’d been for the last four hours. I paid the fare, got out, and climbed the stairs to the front door.

At the top I paused to look out across the iridescent landscape. It was a clear night and I could see all the way to the lighted towers in Century City. It reminded me that somewhere near those towers in the lowlands was where Sly Fulgoni Jr. made his pitiful stand in the land of law.

I turned and looked over my other shoulder toward downtown. Farther away, the lights seemed less vibrant, having to fight their way through the smog. I could, however, see the glow of lights from Chavez Ravine—a home game for the Dodgers, who had started the season abysmally.

I opened the door and went in. I was tempted to put on the radio and listen to the ageless Vin Scully call the game but I was too tired. I went to the kitchen to get a bottle of water, pausing for a moment to look at the postcard from Hawaii on the fridge. I then went directly to my bedroom to crash.

Two hours later I was on a black horse galloping out of control across a dark landscape lit only by cracks of lightning when my phone woke me.

I was in bed, still fully clothed. I stared at the ceiling, trying to remember the dream when the phone rang again. I reached into my pocket for it and answered without looking at the display. For some reason I expected it to be my daughter, and a tone of desperation infected my hello.

“Haller?”

“Yes, who is this?”

“Sly Fulgoni. Are you all right?”

The deeper timbre in the voice told me I was talking to Sly Sr., calling in from Victorville again.

“I’m fine. How’d you get this number?”

“Valenzuela gave it to me. He doesn’t like you too much, Haller. Something about unfulfilled promises.”

I sat up on the side of the bed and looked at the clock. It was two ten.

“Yeah, well, fuck him,” I said. “Why are you calling me, Sly? I’m coming up to see you tomorrow.”

“Yeah, not so fast, smart guy. I don’t like you threatening me. Or my son, for that matter. So we need to get a few things straight before you make the long drive up here.”

“Hold on.”

I put the phone down on the bed and turned on the bed lamp. I opened the bottle of water I had retrieved before going to sleep and drank almost half of it down. It helped clear my head.

I then picked up the phone again.

“You there, Sly?”

“Where else am I gonna go?”

“Right. So what things do we need to straighten out?”

“First of all, this co-counsel bullshit you laid on young Sly.

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