Resurrection Walk

Satisfied he had made a proper stand, Bosch pulled away from the curb and said, “Where to?”

“West Hollywood,” Haller said. “Lorna’s apartment.”

Bosch moved into the left lane so he could make a U-turn and head north. He had already driven Haller to many meetings with Lorna, either at her place or at Hugo’s up the street if food was involved. Since the so-called Lincoln Lawyer worked out of his car instead of an office, Lorna managed things from her condo on Kings Road. It was the center of the practice.

“How’d things go back there?” Bosch asked.

“Uh, let’s just say that my client received the full measure of the law,” Haller said.

“Sorry to hear it.”

“The judge was an asshole. I don’t think he even read the PSR.”

It had been Bosch’s experience when he was a sworn officer that presentencing reports weren’t usually favorable to the offender, so he wasn’t sure why Haller thought a careful reading of the PSR by the judge in this case could have resulted in a lesser sentence. Before he could ask about it, Haller reached forward to the center screen on the dashboard, pulled up the favorites list from his contacts, and placed a call to Jennifer Aronson, the associate in the firm of Michael Haller and Associates. The Bluetooth system brought the call up on the vehicle’s speakers and Bosch heard both sides of it.

“Mickey?”

“Where you at, Jen?”

“My house. Just got back from the city attorney’s office.”

“How’d that go?”

“Just round one, really. Bit of a game of chicken. Nobody wants to say a number first.”

Bosch knew that Haller had trusted Aronson with the Jorge Ochoa negotiation. Haller and Associates had filed a lawsuit against the city and the LAPD for his wrongful conviction and incarceration. Though the city and police department were protected by state-mandated limits to financial settlements in such matters, there were aspects of the poor and possibly corrupt handling of the case that allowed Ochoa to seek other financial penalties. The city hoped to head that off with a negotiated settlement.

“Hold the line,” Haller said. “They’ll pay.”

“Hope so,” Aronson said. “How’d it go at the airport?”

“He got the full Monty. The judge probably never even looked at the childhood-trauma stuff. I tried to bring it up but he shut it down. And it didn’t help that my guy pleaded for mercy by telling the judge he hadn’t really meant to defraud all those people. So off he goes. He’ll probably do seven years if he doesn’t act out.”

“Anybody there for him except you?”

“Only me.”

“What about the guy’s kid? I thought you had him queued up.”

“Didn’t show. Anyway, moving on, I’m going to sit down with Lorna in about thirty to look at the calendar. You want to sit in?”

“I can’t. I just came home to grab something to eat. I promised my sister I’d go up to Sylmar to see Anthony today.”

“Right. Well, good luck with that. Let me know if I can help.”

“Thanks. Are you with Harry Bosch?”

“Sittin’ right next to him.”

Haller looked at Bosch and nodded as if he were making up for jumping in the back seat earlier.

“Are we on speaker?” Aronson said. “Can I talk to him?”

“Sure can,” Haller said. “Go.”

He pointed to Bosch.

“You’re on,” he said.

“Harry, I know you’ve drawn a line about not doing defense work per se,” Aronson said.

Bosch nodded his head but then realized she couldn’t see this.

“Right,” he said.

“Well, I could really use you to just look at a case,” Aronson said. “No investigatory work. Just look at what I’ve got so far from the DA.”

Bosch knew that the main juvenile detention center for the north county was in Sylmar in the San Fernando Valley.

“It’s a juvie case?” he asked.

“Yes, my sister’s son,” Aronson said. “Anthony Marcus. He’s sixteen but they’re going to move to try him as an adult. There’s a hearing next week and I’m desperate, Harry. I need to help him.”

“What’s the charge?”

“They say he shot a cop but there’s just nothing in this boy’s character that says he would do something like this.”

“Where? What agency?”

“LAPD. It’s a West Valley case. It happened in Woodland Hills.”

“Is he alive or dead? The cop.”

“He’s alive. He only got shot in the leg or something. But Anthony wouldn’t have done this and he told me he didn’t. He said there had to be another shooter because it wasn’t him.”

Bosch reached up to the dashboard screen and punched the mute button. He looked over at Haller.

“Are you kidding?” Bosch said. “You want me to work for a kid who shot an LAPD cop? I’m already looking at this case from Chino where the woman shot a LEO. You know what this could do to me out there?”

“Hello?” Aronson said. “Did I lose you?”

“I’m not asking you to work the case,” Haller said. “She is, and all she wants is for you to look at the file she has. That’s it. Just read the reports and tell her what you think. Then you’re done with it. You won’t be attached to it and nobody will ever know.”

“But I’ll know,” Bosch said.

“Hello?” Aronson repeated.

Bosch shook his head and unmuted the call.

“Sorry,” he said. “Lost you for a few seconds there. What kind of documents do you have?”