The Night Fire (Renée Ballard, #3)(23)

“What the hell is this?” he asked. “Seville said it was a thank-you note or something.”

“That’s a subpoena signed by a judge,” Bosch said. “You need to be in court tomorrow morning at nine sharp. Jeffrey Herstadt thanks you in advance.”

He offered the pink envelope to Morales, but he didn’t take it.

“Wait, these are supposed to be served at headquarters, across the street from City Hall,” Morales said. “Then they come to me. So take it over there.”

Morales held the subpoena out to Bosch.

“There was no time for that,” Bosch said. “Judge Falcone signed it today and he wants you there first thing tomorrow. You don’t show, he’ll issue a warrant.”

“This is bullshit,” Morales said. “I’m off tomorrow and going up to Arrowhead. I’ve got three days.”

“I think you’ll be in and out. You’ll still get to Arrowhead.”

“What case is this? You said Herstat?”

“Jeffrey Herstadt. Spelled H-E-R-S-T-A-D-T. You treated him for seizure at the Starbucks by Grand Park seven months ago.”

“That’s the guy who killed the judge.”

“Allegedly.”

Bosch pointed to the subpoena, still clutched in Morales’s hand.

“It says you need to bring any documentation of the call you have. And your rescue kit.”

“My kit? What the fuck for?”

“I guess you’ll find out tomorrow. Anyway, that’s all I know. You’ve been served and we’ll see you at nine a.m. tomorrow.”

Bosch turned and walked away, heading back toward his car and trying not to limp. Morales threw one more “This is bullshit” at his back. Bosch didn’t turn around when he responded.

“See you tomorrow.”

Bosch got back in his car and immediately called Mickey Haller.

“You get the subpoena?” Haller said.

“Yep,” Bosch replied. “In and out—thanks for greasing it.”

“Now tell me you served Morales.”

“Just did. He’s not too happy about it but I think he’ll be there.”

“He better or my ass will be in a sling with Falcone. You tell him the subpoena includes his kit?”

“I did, and it’s on the subpoena. Are you going to be able to get him on the stand?”

“The prosecutor is going to carp about it, but I’m not counting on any pushback from the judge.”

Bosch unlocked the Jeep and got in. He decided not to attempt the freeway at this hour. He would turn on First and take it to Beverly and ride that all the way into Hollywood.

“Your DNA lady get in?” he asked.

“Just got the word,” Haller said. “She says she’s in the car with Stace and heading to the hotel. She’ll be good to go tomorrow.”

“You talked to her about this? She knows the plan?”

“Ran it all by her. We’re good. It’s funny—today I was semi-bullshitting about her having a specialty and it turns out this is her specialty. She’s been doing transfer cases for five years. It’s like the gods of guilt are smiling on me today.”

“That’s great. But you’ve got nothing to smile about yet. Morales has to answer the way we think he’ll answer. If he doesn’t, we’re cooked.”

“I’ve got a good feeling. This is going to be fun.”

“Just remember, Morales has to go first, then your DNA lady.”

“Oh, I got it.”

Bosch turned on the Jeep’s engine and pulled away from the curb. He turned right on First Street and headed under the freeway. He changed the subject matter slightly.

“You told me that when you were prepping the case you had Cisco look into third-party culpability,” Bosch said.

Cisco Wojciechowski was Haller’s investigator. He had helped prep the Herstadt case but had to stop when he had an emergency appendectomy. He wasn’t due back on the job until the following week. Third-party culpability was a standard defense strategy: someone else did it.

“We took a look at it,” Haller said. “But to get it into court for the defense you need proof and we didn’t have any proof. You know that.”

“You focus on one subject?” Bosch asked.

“Shit, no. Judge Montgomery had lots of enemies out there. We didn’t know where to start. We came up with a list of names—mostly out of the murder book—and went from there but never got to where we could point a finger in court. Just wasn’t there.”

“I didn’t see any list in the material you gave me. And did you get a copy of the murder book?”

“Cisco had the copy we got in discovery. But if this thing goes down the way we think it will tomorrow, we won’t need to prove third-party culpability. We won’t even need it. We’ll have big-time reasonable doubt already.”

“You might not need it, but I will. See if you can get it from Cisco. I want to look at other avenues of investigation. The LAPD has to have looked at other persons of interest. I want to know who.”

“You got it, Broheim. I’ll get it. And thanks for today.”

Bosch disconnected. He felt uncomfortable being thanked for a ploy that might set an accused murderer free. He felt just as uncomfortable being an investigator for the defense, even if the defendant in this case was possibly an innocent man.