left the small room. Foster had his hair in tight cornrows. He had a lipstick kiss tattooed on the left side of his neck and another tattoo in blue ink on the other side that Bosch could not read against his dark brown skin. Foster looked confused by the two people in front of him. Aronson quickly made introductions.
“Mr. Foster, I’m not sure if you remember me. I’m Jennifer Aronson and I work with Mr. Haller. I was with him at your arraignment and then at the preliminary hearing.”
Foster nodded as he remembered her.
“You a lawyer?” he asked.
“Yes, I’m one of your lawyers,” she said. “And I want to introduce you to Mr. Bosch, who is working as our investigator on the case. He has some questions for you.”
Bosch didn’t bother to correct her. He had not officially agreed to come on board yet—despite what the letter said.
“Where Haller at?” Foster said.
“He’s tied up on another case at the moment,” Aronson said. “But he plans to be here soon—before Mr. Bosch is finished.”
Tied up on another case
was one way of putting it, Bosch thought.
Foster turned his eyes toward Bosch and apparently didn’t like what he saw.
“You look like five-oh to me,” he said.
Bosch nodded.
“I was.”
“LAPD?”
Bosch nodded again.
“Fuck that,” Foster said. “I want somebody else on my case. I ain’t want no LAPD on my side.”
“Mr. Foster,” Aronson said. “First of all, you don’t get to choose. And second, Mr. Bosch specializes in homicide investigations and is one of the best in the business.”
“I still don’t like it,” Foster said. “Down south side the murder cops didn’t do shit. Back when I was running with a crew, we lost nine guys in five years and the LAPD didn’t make no arrests, no trials, nothin’.”
“I didn’t work south side,” Bosch said.
Foster folded his arms and turned his head to ignore Bosch and look at the wall to his left. Bosch could now clearly see the tattoos on the right side of his neck. There was the standard Crips symbol, a 6 in the center of a six-pointed star created by one triangle with a second inverted triangle over it. Bosch knew the points of the star stood for things that the street gang was supposedly founded on—life, loyalty, love, knowledge, wisdom, and understanding. Next to the symbol was a stylized script tattoo that said
Tookie RIP
. Bosch also knew that this was a reference to Stanley “Tookie” Williams, the well-known cofounder of the gang, who was executed at San Quentin.
Bosch continued.
“You say you didn’t commit the murder you are charged with. If that is true, I can help you. If you are lying, I’m going to hurt you. It’s as simple as that. You want me to go, I’ll go. It’s not my ass on the line here.”
Foster turned his eyes quickly back to Bosch.
“Fuck you, man. If you’re LAPD, then you don’t care whether I did it or not. Just as long as you got somebody to pay for it, that’s all you people care about. You think if I didn’t do this, then I did something else, so what the fuck, same difference.”
Bosch looked at Aronson.
“We’ll be fine,” he said. “Why don’t you go see if you can find Mickey and bring him in here?”
“I think I should stay here while we conduct the interview,” she said.
“No, we’ll be fine. I’m conducting the interview and you can go.”
He gave her a hard look and she got the message. She stood up, insulted again, and went to the door and knocked. As soon as the guard opened the door she stepped out. Bosch watched her go and then turned back to Foster.
“Mr. Foster, I’m not here because I want you to be my friend. And you don’t need me to be yours. But I’ll tell you this. If you are innocent of this crime, then you don’t want anybody else but me on it. Because if you’re innocent, that means there is somebody else out there, not in jail, who did this. And I’m going to find him.”
Bosch opened the file and slid one of the
“Mr. Foster, I’m not sure if you remember me. I’m Jennifer Aronson and I work with Mr. Haller. I was with him at your arraignment and then at the preliminary hearing.”
Foster nodded as he remembered her.
“You a lawyer?” he asked.
“Yes, I’m one of your lawyers,” she said. “And I want to introduce you to Mr. Bosch, who is working as our investigator on the case. He has some questions for you.”
Bosch didn’t bother to correct her. He had not officially agreed to come on board yet—despite what the letter said.
“Where Haller at?” Foster said.
“He’s tied up on another case at the moment,” Aronson said. “But he plans to be here soon—before Mr. Bosch is finished.”
Tied up on another case
was one way of putting it, Bosch thought.
Foster turned his eyes toward Bosch and apparently didn’t like what he saw.
“You look like five-oh to me,” he said.
Bosch nodded.
“I was.”
“LAPD?”
Bosch nodded again.
“Fuck that,” Foster said. “I want somebody else on my case. I ain’t want no LAPD on my side.”
“Mr. Foster,” Aronson said. “First of all, you don’t get to choose. And second, Mr. Bosch specializes in homicide investigations and is one of the best in the business.”
“I still don’t like it,” Foster said. “Down south side the murder cops didn’t do shit. Back when I was running with a crew, we lost nine guys in five years and the LAPD didn’t make no arrests, no trials, nothin’.”
“I didn’t work south side,” Bosch said.
Foster folded his arms and turned his head to ignore Bosch and look at the wall to his left. Bosch could now clearly see the tattoos on the right side of his neck. There was the standard Crips symbol, a 6 in the center of a six-pointed star created by one triangle with a second inverted triangle over it. Bosch knew the points of the star stood for things that the street gang was supposedly founded on—life, loyalty, love, knowledge, wisdom, and understanding. Next to the symbol was a stylized script tattoo that said
Tookie RIP
. Bosch also knew that this was a reference to Stanley “Tookie” Williams, the well-known cofounder of the gang, who was executed at San Quentin.
Bosch continued.
“You say you didn’t commit the murder you are charged with. If that is true, I can help you. If you are lying, I’m going to hurt you. It’s as simple as that. You want me to go, I’ll go. It’s not my ass on the line here.”
Foster turned his eyes quickly back to Bosch.
“Fuck you, man. If you’re LAPD, then you don’t care whether I did it or not. Just as long as you got somebody to pay for it, that’s all you people care about. You think if I didn’t do this, then I did something else, so what the fuck, same difference.”
Bosch looked at Aronson.
“We’ll be fine,” he said. “Why don’t you go see if you can find Mickey and bring him in here?”
“I think I should stay here while we conduct the interview,” she said.
“No, we’ll be fine. I’m conducting the interview and you can go.”
He gave her a hard look and she got the message. She stood up, insulted again, and went to the door and knocked. As soon as the guard opened the door she stepped out. Bosch watched her go and then turned back to Foster.
“Mr. Foster, I’m not here because I want you to be my friend. And you don’t need me to be yours. But I’ll tell you this. If you are innocent of this crime, then you don’t want anybody else but me on it. Because if you’re innocent, that means there is somebody else out there, not in jail, who did this. And I’m going to find him.”
Bosch opened the file and slid one of the
Similar Books
