“Hey, man, that cigarette is mine,” he said. “This is my spot. I own it.”
“It’s just a butt,” Bosch said. “She smoked it down to the filter.”
“Doesn’t matter. It’s mine. You want to buy it?”
“How much?”
“Ten dollars.”
“For a cigarette butt?”
“Ten dollars, man. That’s the price.”
Bosch reached into his pocket and pulled out his money. He had a twenty and a ten. He held the ten out to the man.
“Do you mind stepping back so I can get back in the car?” Bosch said.
“Sure thing, boss.”
He grabbed the ten and backed away.
Bosch got in the Navigator and closed the door. He handed the ziplock to Arslanian as he checked the rearview to see if it was clear to enter the traffic lane. She examined the contents of the bag without opening it.
“This is going to be perfect,” she said. “We got lucky.”
“About time,” Bosch said.
“I thought we’d be following her all the way to the Antelope Valley and then some. Then have to look through her trash.”
“Me too. So, Applied Forensics?”
“Absolutely. I’ll call ahead so they’re ready for us. If we get this in now, we could have what we need by tomorrow.”
The light turned green and Bosch muscled the Navigator into the traffic lane in front of a car, garnering another angry horn rebuke from the driver. Bosch held his hand up, waved his thanks, and drove on.
As they headed toward Van Nuys, Bosch put things together.
“She broke into my house,” he said.
“Who did?” Arslanian asked.
“Sanger.”
“When was this?”
“Like seven months ago. I wasn’t sure till now. I smelled cigarette smoke when I came home and found the place open.”
“Did she take anything?”
“No. She just wanted me to know. It was an intimidation tactic.”
Bosch smiled and shook his head.
“But it didn’t work, because I wasn’t sure if I had left the door open and was just losing my mind,” he said. “You know, like dementia or something. I thought the cigarette smell might have been a side effect from the isotope they were putting in me.”
“Then I guess it must be nice to know there really was a break-in, which sounds weird said out loud.”
“Yeah, I guess you’re right.”
Bosch thought about the police report that Maggie McFierce had used to embarrass him in court and suggest he was losing his mind. He now felt vindicated.
Part Twelve
The Proving Ground
44
In the morning the marshals moved me back to the federal courthouse on the seven o’clock jail bus. I then spent the next two hours in the main courthouse jail with other detainees awaiting transfer to specific courtrooms and their holding cells. I was wearing federal blues and was unsure what had happened to my clothes, wallet, and phone. I was eventually moved to the cell off Judge Coelho’s courtroom. Lucinda Sanz was already in the cell next to mine. We couldn’t see each other but we could hear each other.
“Mickey, are you okay?” she whispered.
“I’m fine,” I said. “How are you feeling, Cindi?”
“I’m good. I can’t believe they made you stay the whole night.”
“The judge wanted to make a point.”
Marshal Nate came into the holding area, unlocked my cell, and handed me a brown paper bag.
“Your clothes,” he said. “Get dressed. The judge wants to see you.”
I dug through the bag. My suit was crumpled into a ball on top of my shoes.
“Where’s my phone?” I said. “And my wallet and keys?”
“Locked in my desk,” Nate said. “You get it back when the judge tells me to give it back. You’ve got five minutes. Get dressed.”
“No, I’m not getting dressed in this stuff. The suit’s wrinkled. If you’re going to take me to see the judge, I’ll go like this.”
“Suit yourself — no pun intended.”
“Good one, Nate.”
“Do I need to put the belly chain and cuffs back on or are you going to behave?”
“No need.”
He walked me out of the cell and past Lucinda’s on the way to the courtroom door.
“Hang in there, Lucinda,” I said.
I was walked through the courtroom, which was dark except for the single light over Gian Brown’s corral.
“All right to take him back?” Nate asked.
“She’s waiting for him,” Brown said.
He gave me and my attire the once-over.
“Are you sure you don’t want to change into your clothes?” Brown asked.
“I’m sure,” I said.
The marshal opened the half door to the corral and we walked through to the hall that led to the judge’s chambers. Nate knocked on the judge’s door and we heard her call to enter.
Nate walked me in and sat me down in one of the chairs in front of the desk. Judge Coelho sat on the other side of it.
“I gave instructions to put you back in your suit, Mr. Haller,” she said.
“The suit’s toast,” I said. “It’s a Canali. Italian silk that’s been balled up in a paper bag overnight. I need my phone so I can get a fresh suit delivered.”
“We’ll get you your phone. Nate, please have that ready for Mr. Haller when we’re through here. You can go back to the courtroom now.”
Marshal Nate looked hesitant.
“Are you sure I shouldn’t stay, Judge?” he asked.
“I’m sure I will be fine,” Coelho said. “I’ll call when it’s time to retrieve Mr. Haller. You can go now.”
Marshal Nate left the room and closed the door behind him. The judge looked at me for a moment, assessing me and determining what to say.
“I’m sorry it came to this, Mr. Haller,” she said. “But the disrespect you showed the court yesterday could not be allowed to stand. It is my hope that you used the night to reflect on how you handled yourself in my courtroom and that you can assure me it won’t happen again.”
I nodded.
“I reflected on a lot of things, Judge,” I said. “I apologize for my words and actions. I am contrite. It won’t happen again, I promise you.”
The only thing I had resolved during my overnight in a cold solo cell was never to address Coelho as Your Honor again.
“Very well,” Coelho said. “Apology accepted. You are released from contempt, and perhaps we can get a rush on your suit so that we don’t lose the entire morning. I will tell all parties to be in court by eleven to proceed.”
“Thank you,” I said. “I’d like to get out of this outfit as soon as possible.”
“I just buzzed Gian, and Nate will have your property out there.”
“When you put out the word about resuming the hearing, can you make sure that Sergeant Sanger is on notice to return to court? She’ll most likely be my next witness.”
“I will order her return.”
Five minutes later I was sitting in the courtroom taking my phone out of a plastic property bag. The first call I made was to Bosch.
“Mick, you’re sprung?”
“Yeah, just now. What’s happening? Where are you?”
“We’re at Applied Forensics. We brought in a cigarette butt from Sanger, and fifteen minutes ago Shami said they need two more hours.”
“Okay. I can deal with that. As soon as you know something, text me.”
“You got it.”
I disconnected and then called Lorna Taylor.
“Oh my God, Mickey, are you all right?”
“I am now.”
“Where are you?”
“In the courtroom. I need you to get me a suit, shirt, and tie and bring them to me here.”