The Concrete Blonde (25 page)

From the witness seat, Bosch watched Chandler working. He guessed she was writing out questions for him. Deborah Church sat next to her with her hands folded on the table, her eyes averted from Bosch. A minute later the door to the jury room opened and the jurors filed into the box. Then the judge came out. Bosch took a deep breath and got ready as Chandler walked to the lectern with her yellow pad.

“Mr. Bosch,” she began, “how many people have you killed?”

Belk immediately objected and asked for a sidebar. The attorneys and the court reporter moved to the side of the bench and whispered for five minutes. Bosch only heard bits and pieces, most of it from Belk, who was loudest. At one point he argued that one shooting only was in dispute—the Church slaying—and all others were irrelevant. He heard Chandler say that the information was relevant because it illustrated the mind-set of the defendant. Bosch couldn't hear the judge's response but after the attorneys and reporter were back in place, the judge said, “The defendant will answer the question.”

“I can't,” Bosch replied.

“Detective Bosch, the court is ordering you to answer.”

“I can't answer it, Judge. I don't know how many people I've killed.”

“You served in combat in Vietnam?” Chandler asked.

“Yes.”

“What were your duties?”

“Tunnel rat. I went into the enemy's tunnels. Sometimes this resulted in direct confrontation. Sometimes I used explosives to destroy tunnel complexes. It's impossible for me to know how many people were in them.”

“Okay, Detective, since you finished your duties with the armed services and became a police officer, how many people have you killed?”

“Three, including Norman Church.”

“Can you tell us about the two incidents not involving Mr. Church? In general.”

“Yes, one was before Church, the other after. The first time I killed someone it was during a murder investigation. I went to question a man I thought was a witness. Turned out he was the killer. When I knocked on the door, he fired a shot through it. Missed me. I kicked the door open and went in. I heard him running toward the rear of the house. I followed him to the yard, where he was climbing over a fence. As he was about to go over, he twisted around to take another shot at me. I fired first and he went down.

“The second time, this was after Church, I was involved in a murder and robbery investigation with the FBI. There was a shoot-out between two suspects and myself and my partner at the time, an FBI agent. I killed one of the suspects.”

“So in those two cases, the men you killed were armed?”

“That is correct.”

“Three shootings involving deaths, that is quite a lot, even for a twenty-year veteran, isn't it?”

Bosch waited a beat for Belk to make an objection but the fat man was too busy writing on his tablet. He had missed it.

“Um, I know twenty-year cops who have never even had to draw their guns, and I know some that have been involved in as many as seven deaths. It's a matter of what kind of cases you draw, it's a matter of luck.”

“Good luck or bad luck?”

This time Belk objected and the judge sustained it. Chandler quickly went on.

“After you killed Mr. Church while he was unarmed, did you feel badly about it?”

“Not really. Not until I got sued and heard you were the lawyer.”

There was laughter in the courtroom and even Honey Chandler smiled. After he had quieted the room with a sharp rebuke from his gavel, the judge instructed Bosch to keep his answers on point and to refrain from personal asides.

“No bad feelings,” Bosch said. “Like I said before, I would rather have taken Church alive than dead. But I wanted to take him off the street, either way.”

“But you set the whole thing up, tactically, so that it had to end in his permanent removal, didn't you?”

“No, I didn't. Nothing was set up. Things just happened.”

Bosch knew better than to show any anger toward her. Rather than make angry denouncements, the rule of thumb was to answer each question as if he was dealing with a person who was simply mistaken.

“You were, however, satisfied that Mr. Church had been killed while unarmed, nude, totally defenseless?”

“Satisfaction doesn't enter into it.”

“Your Honor,” Chandler said. “May I approach the witness with an exhibit? It's marked plaintiff's 3A.”

She handed copies of a piece of paper to Belk and the judge's clerk, who handed it over the bench to the judge. While the judge was reading it, Belk went to the lectern and objected.

“Your Honor, if this is offered as impeachment, I don't see how it is valid. These are the words of a psychiatrist, not my client.”

Chandler moved to the microphone and said, “Judge, if you look in the section marked Summary, the last paragraph is what I would like to be read by the witness. You will also notice that the defendant signed the statement at the bottom.”

Judge Keyes read some more, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and said, “I'll accept it. You may show it to the witness.”

Chandler brought another copy up to Bosch and placed it in front of him without looking at him. Then she walked back to the lectern.

“Can you tell us what that is, Detective Bosch?”

“It's a confidential psychological release form. Supposedly confidential, I guess I should say.”

“Yes, and what does it relate to?”

“My release allowing me to return to duty after the Church shooting. It is routine to be interviewed by the department's psychiatrist after being involved in a shooting. Then he clears you to return to duty.”

“You must know him well.”

“Excuse me?”

“Ms. Chandler, that's not necessary,” Judge Keyes said before Belk got up.

“No, Your Honor. Strike that. You were cleared to return to duty—to your new assignment in Hollywood—after the interview, correct?”

“Correct.”

“Isn't it true that this is really nothing more than a rubber-stamp process? The psychiatrist never holds an officer back from returning on psychiatric grounds?”

“No on the first question. I don't know on the second.”

“Well, let me turn it around. Have you ever heard of an officer being held back by the psychiatric interview?”

“No, I haven't. They're supposed to be confidential so I doubt I would hear anything anyway.”

“Will you please read the last paragraph of the summary section on the report in front of you?”

“Yes.”

He picked up the paper and began reading. Silently.

“Out loud, Detective Bosch,” she said in an exasperated tone. “I thought that was implicit in the question.”

“Sorry. It says: ‘Through his war and police experiences, most notably including the aforementioned shooting resulting in fatality, the subject has to a high degree become desensitized to violence. He speaks in terms of violence or the aspect of violence being an accepted part of his day-to-day life, for all of his life. Therefore, it is unlikely that what transpired previously will act as a psychological deterrent should he again be placed in circumstances where he must act with deadly force in order to protect himself or others. I believe he will be able to act without delay. He will be able to pull the trigger. In fact, his conversation reveals no ill effects at all from the shooting, unless his sense of satisfaction with the outcome of the incident—the suspect's death—should be deemed inappropriate.’”

Bosch put the paper down. He noticed the entire jury was looking at him now. He had no idea whether the report was highly damaging or helpful to his cause.

“The subject of that report is you, correct?” Chandler asked.

“Yes, it's me.”

“You just testified that there was no satisfaction, but the report by the psychiatrist said you did feel a sense of satisfaction with the outcome of the incident. Which is right?”

“Those are his words on the report, not mine. I don't think I would have said that.”

“What would you have said?”

“I don't know. Not that.”

“Then why did you sign the release form?”

“I signed it because I wanted to get back to work. If I was going to argue with him about what words he used, I was never going to get back to work.”

“Tell me, Detective, did the psychiatrist who examined you and made that report know about your mother?”

Bosch hesitated.

“I don't know,” he finally answered. “I didn't tell him. I don't know if he would have had the information previously.”

He could hardly concentrate on his words, for his mind was scrambling.

“What happened to your mother?”

He looked directly at Chandler for a long moment before answering. She didn't look away.

“As was testified to earlier, she was killed. I was eleven. It happened in Hollywood.”

“And no one was ever arrested, correct?”

“That is correct. Can we go on to something else? This has already been testified about.”

Bosch looked over at Belk who got the point and stood up and objected to Chandler's repetitive line of questioning.

“Detective Bosch, do you want a break?” Judge Keyes asked. “To sort of calm down a little?”

“No, Judge, I'm fine.”

“Well, I'm sorry. I can't restrict proper cross-examination. The objection is overruled.”

The judge nodded to Chandler.

“I'm sorry to ask such personal questions, but, after she was gone, did your father raise you?”

“You're not sorry. You—”

“Detective Bosch!” the judge boomed. “We cannot have this. You must answer the questions asked of you. Say nothing else. Just answer the questions.”

“No. I never knew my father. I was put in the youth hall and then foster homes.”

“Any brothers or sisters?”

“No.”

“So the man who strangled your mother not only took the one closest to you, he destroyed much of your life at that point?”

“I'd say so.”

“Did the crime have something to do with your becoming a policeman?”

Bosch found he could no longer look at the jury. He knew his face had turned red. And he felt as if he were dying under a magnifying glass.

“I don't know. I never really analyzed myself to that extent.”

“Did it have something to do with the satisfaction you felt in killing Mr. Church?”

“As I said before, if there was any satisfaction—you keep using that word—it was that I was satisfied with closing the case. To use your word, the man was a monster. He was a killer. I was satisfied we stopped him, wouldn't you be?”

“You're answering the questions, Detective Bosch,” Chandler said. “The question I now have is, did you stop the killings? All of them?”

Belk jumped up and asked for a sidebar conference. The judge said to the jurors, “We're going to take that break now after all. We'll call you back when we're ready.”

17

Belk asked for a discussion of his objection to Chandler's question out of earshot of the press, so the judge convened a hearing in his chambers. The hearing included the judge, Chandler, Belk, Bosch, the court reporter and the court clerk. They had to drag a couple of chairs in from the courtroom, then they all took places around the judge's huge desk. It was dark mahogany and looked like a box a small foreign car could have come in.

The first thing the judge did was light a cigarette. When Bosch saw Chandler follow suit, he did the same. The judge pushed the ashtray on his desk to the corner so they all could get at it.

“So, Mr. Belk, it's your party,” the judge said.

“Your Honor, I am concerned with the direction Miss Chandler is taking this.”

“Call her Ms. Chandler, Mr. Belk. You know she prefers it. As far as which way she's going, how can you tell from one question?”

It was obvious to Bosch that Belk may have objected too soon. It was unclear how much information Chandler had, aside from the note. But Bosch thought Belk's tap-dancing around the problem was a waste of time.

“Judge,” he said. “If I answer that last question it will compromise an ongoing investigation.”

The judge leaned back in his padded leather chair.

“How so?” he asked.

“We believe there is another killer,” Bosch said. “The body found this week was identified yesterday and it has been determined that she could not have been killed by Church. She was alive up until two years ago. The—”

“The method used by the killer was identical to that of the real Dollmaker,” Belk interjected. “The police believe there is a follower, someone who knew how Church killed and followed the same pattern. There is evidence to suggest the follower was responsible for the seventh and eleventh victims previously attributed to Church.”

Bosch said, “The follower would have to be someone close to the original investigation, someone who knew the details.”

Belk said, “If you allow her to open this line of questioning, it will be reported by the media and it will tip off the follower. He will know how close he is to being revealed.”

The judge was silent as he considered all of this for a moment.

“That all sounds real interesting and I wish you all the best of luck catching this follower, as you call him,” he finally said. “But the problem you have, Mr. Belk, is that you haven't given me any legal reason to stop your client from answering the question Ms. Chandler put to him. No one wants to compromise an investigation. But you put your client on the stand.”

“That's if there is a second killer,” Chandler said. “It's obvious there was only one killer and it wasn't Church. They've come up with this elaborate—”

“Ms. Chandler,” the judge interrupted. “That's for the jury to decide. Save your argument for them. Mr. Belk, the problem is this is your witness. You called him and you've left him open to this line of questioning. I don't know what to tell you. I'm certainly not going to clear the media out of there. Off the record here, Miss Penny.”

The judge watched the court reporter lift her fingers from the keys.

“Mr. Belk, you're fucked—'scuse the language, ladies. He's gonna answer the question and the one after that and the one after that. Okay, we're back on.”

The reporter put her fingers back on the keys.

“Your Honor, this can't—”

“I've made my ruling, Mr. Belk. Anything else?”