“You believe there is still one of those on the street?” he said.
As they passed the little car Bosch saw a man of Asian descent huddled behind the wheel. Bosch thought he might be Cambodian.
“Figures,” Mackey said, as he saw the driver. “Watch this.”
Mackey then steered back into the original lane, squeezing the Pinto between the towed Mercedes and a row of cars parked against the curb. The Pinto driver had no choice but to pull to a screeching stop. Mackey’s laughter drowned out the weak horn blast from the Pinto.
“Fuck you!” Mackey yelled. “Get back on your fucking boat!”
He looked to Bosch for affirmation and Bosch smiled, the hardest thing he’d had to do in a long while.
“Hey, man, that was my car you almost hit that guy with,” he said in mock protest.
“Hey, were you in Vietnam?” Mackey asked.
“Why?”
“Because, man. You were there, weren’t you?”
“So?”
“So, man, I had a friend who was there. He said they dusted mooks like that guy back there like it was nothing. A dozen for breakfast and another dozen for lunch. I wish I’d been there, is all I’m saying.”
Bosch looked away from him and out the side window. Mackey’s statement had left an opening for him to ask about guns and killing people. But Bosch couldn’t bring himself to go there. All at once he just wanted to get away from Mackey.
But Mackey kept talking.
“I tried to sign up for the Gulf-the first one-but they wouldn’t take me.”
Bosch recovered some and got back into it.
“Why not?” he asked.
“I don’t know. They needed the slot for a nigger, I guess.”
“Or maybe you had a criminal record.”
Bosch had turned to look at him as he said this. He immediately thought he had sounded too accusatory about it. Mackey turned and held his stare for as long as he could before having to return his eyes to the road.
“I’ve got a record, man, big fucking deal. They still could’ve used me over there.”
The conversation died there, and in a few blocks they were pulling into the service station.
“I don’t think we’ll need to put it in the garage,” Mackey said. “Spider can just take the wheel off while I have it on the hook. We’ll do it quick.”
“Whatever you want to do,” Bosch said. “You’re sure he didn’t leave yet?”
“No, that’s him right there.”
As the tow truck went by the double bays of the garage a man emerged from the shadows and headed toward the back of the truck. He was holding a pneumatic drill with one hand and pulling the air line with the other. Bosch saw the webwork tattooed on his neck. Prison blue. Something about the man’s face immediately struck Bosch as familiar. In a rushed moment of dread he thought he knew the man because he’d had dealings with him as a cop. He had arrested him or questioned him before, maybe even sent him to the prison where he had gotten the webwork done.
Bosch suddenly knew he had to stay clear of the man called Spider. He pulled his phone off his belt.
“All right if I sit here and make a call?” he asked Mackey, who was getting out of the truck.
“Yeah, go ahead. This won’t take long.”
Mackey closed the door, leaving Bosch alone. As he heard the drill start taking the lugs off the wheel of his SUV, Bosch rolled the window up and called Rider’s cell phone.
“How’s it going?” she said by way of a greeting.
“It was going good till we got back to the station,” Bosch said in a low voice. “I think I know the mechanic. If he knows me, this could be a problem.”
“You mean he might know you’re a cop?”
“Exactly.”
“Shit.”
“Exactly.”
“What do you want us to do? Tim and Rick are still floating around.”
“Call them and tell them what’s happening. Tell them to stay loose until I get clear. I’m going to stay in the truck as long as I can. If I hold the phone up like I am talking I can keep him from seeing my face.”
“Okay.”
“I just hope Mackey doesn’t want to introduce me. I think I made an impression on him. He might want to show me off.”
“Okay, Harry, just stay cool and we’ll move in if we have -”
“I’m not worried about me. I’m worried about the play with -”
“Hey, he’s coming over.”
Just as she said the warning there was a sharp rap on the window. Bosch lowered the phone and turned to see Mackey staring at him. He rolled the window down.
“It’s done,” he said.
“Already?”
“Yup. You can come into the office and pay while he puts the wheel back on. You’ll make it home in a couple hours.”
“Great.”
Holding the phone up to his right ear, Bosch got out of the truck and walked to the office, never allowing Spider a decent look at his face. He spoke to Rider while he walked.
“It looks like I’m getting out of here,” he said.
“Good,” she said. “The man in question is putting on your wheel. Watch yourself when you leave.”
“Will do.”
Once he was in the little office Bosch closed the phone. Mackey had gone behind a greasy, cluttered desk. He took several seconds to use a calculator to do the simple arithmetic of the tow and repair charges.
“Comes to one twenty-five even,” he said. “Four miles towing and the valve was three bucks.”
Bosch sat down in a chair in front of the desk and pulled out his fold of money.
“Can I get a receipt for it?”
As he counted out six twenties and a five he heard the drill outside. The tire was being put back on. He held the money out, but Mackey was preoccupied by looking at a Post-it note he had found on the desk. He held it at an angle that allowed Bosch to read it.
Ro-FYI. Visa called to confirm employment on your app.
Bosch read it in a few seconds, but Mackey looked at it for a long time before finally dropping the note back on the desk and taking the money from Bosch. Mackey put the money in a cash drawer and then started fishing around on the desk for a receipt pad. He was taking a long time.
“Kenny usually writes up the receipts,” he said. “And he went to get some chicken.”
Bosch was about to say never mind about the receipt when he heard the scrape of a step behind him and knew that someone had entered the office. He didn’t turn in case it was Spider.
“All right, Ro, it’s done. You just need to let her down.”
Bosch knew this was the tight moment. Mackey would either introduce him or not.
“All right, Spider,” Mackey said.
“Then I’m outta here.”
“Okay, man, thanks for sticking. Catch you tomorrow.”
Spider left the office without Bosch ever turning around. Mackey found what he was looking for in the center drawer and scribbled something on it. He gave it to Bosch. It was a blank receipt. He had written $125 in a childlike scrawl at the bottom.
“You can just fill that out,” Mackey said as he got up. “I’ll go drop your machine and you can get out of here.”
Bosch followed him out, realizing he had left the newspaper on the seat of the truck. He wondered if he should leave it there or come up with an excuse to go back into the truck so he could get it and maybe leave it in the office where he knew Mackey watched television during the slow parts of his shift.
He decided to leave it where it was. He had planted the seed as best he could. It was time now to just step back and see what grew from it.
The Mercedes was off the truck now. Bosch walked around to the driver’s side. Mackey was stowing the harness in the back of the tow truck.
“Thanks, Roland,” Bosch said.
“Just Ro, man,” Mackey responded. “You take care, man. And do yourself a favor and stay out of South-Central.”
“Don’t worry about me,” Bosch said. “I will.”
Mackey smiled and winked as he pulled off his glove again and offered Bosch his hand. Bosch shook it and smiled back. He then looked down at their hands and saw a tiny white scar in the fleshy part between Mackey’s right thumb and finger. The tattoo from a Colt.45.