Page 17 of Resurrection Walk

When either the Bureau or the sheriff’s department referred to these groups publicly, they called them cliques. But to Bosch, they were no different from street gangs. These were gangsters with badges. And he now believed Roberto Sanz had been one of them.

“You check that chair for bird shit?”

Bosch looked up from his phone. Haller was approaching, carrying one of the pink chairs.

“I did,” Bosch said.

Haller put his chair down beside Bosch’s so they could sit next to each other with a view of City Hall across the park. He put his slim briefcase down on the grass between his feet.

“I had an interesting call with Jen Aronson last night,” he said.

Bosch nodded. He’d thought this might come up. “She told you about wanting to do a press conference on her nephew’s case?” he asked.

“She did,” Haller said. “And she also said you want no part of it.”

“I don’t.”

“Harry, you planted the seed but want no part of the tree that grows from it.”

“I don’t know what that means. Can we talk about Lucinda Sanz? That’s what I’m working on.”

“We can, but I want to make sure you get to UCLA.”

“I’m going this afternoon.”

“Good. What’ve you got?”

It took Bosch a moment to switch tracks and get back to thinking about Lucinda Sanz. When Haller brought Bosch on to review and cull the requests that came in from the prisons, one of the rules of the road he’d set was that Bosch was not to reach out to any sender of a request without his approval. These were long shots and Haller wasn’t in the business of offering false hope to incarcerated individuals. He didn’t want Bosch making that move until he had been apprised of Bosch’s thinking and agreed on next steps.

“It’s the court file,” Bosch said. “It’s pretty thin but there’s enough there to make me want to go out to Chino and talk to Lucinda Sanz.”

“The one who killed her husband, the deputy?” Haller said.

“Her ex-husband.”

“Well, tell me what you got. But she pleaded nolo, right? That makes it a steep mountain to climb. You know what El Capitan is?”

“At Yosemite? Yeah.”

“Reversing a nolo is like climbing El Cap.”

“Yeah, but she didn’t have the Lincoln Lawyer on her side back then. She had some second-stringer works out of that lawyer commune in Chinatown.”

While still with the LAPD, Bosch had been to the office of Frank Silver, the attorney who had represented Lucinda Sanz. It was in a brick building on Ord Street that was nicknamed “the commune” because several solo-practice attorneys worked there out of cubbyhole offices in a cut-rate space that allowed them to share the overhead expenses of reception, internet, copying, coffee, and paralegal and other support services. And it was walking distance to the CCB.

“I’d rather work out of my car,” Haller said. “Who was the lawyer? Maybe I know him.”

“Frank Silver,” Bosch said. “I had a case with him once. When I was with Hollywood Homicide. He was a water-seeks-its-own-level kind of guy. Not too impressive, you ask me.”

“Silver — don’t know him. They give you the silver medal for second place. And in trial, second place is a guilty verdict.”

“Never thought of it that way.”

“At least over there they’re close to Little Jewel and Howlin’ Ray’s.”

After COVID, those were two of the best restaurants left, not only in Chinatown but in all of downtown.

“True, but I miss Chinese Friends,” Bosch said.

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