Dark Sacred Night (Harry Bosch Universe #31)(83)

“Was that one of your movies?” she asked.

“I wish,” Beaupre said. “All of Stormy’s flicks are in big-time demand. I put the poster up for appearances, you know. Doesn’t hurt if people think you have a part of that action.”

They entered a room at the end of the hallway that was carpeted and had a stripper pole on a one-foot-high stage. There were several folding chairs lined against one wall.

“This is where we do casting,” Beaupre said. “But most of the time it’s for the women. Men, we go off reels and reps. But I figure this is where you should talk to the guy. If he shows.”

“Do you have reason to think he won’t?” Bosch asked.

“It’s a flaky business,” Beaupre said. “People are unreliable. I don’t know anything about this guy. He could be a flake and a no-show. He could be right smack on time. We’ll see. Now I got a question. Am I supposed to be in here with you all?”

“No, that’s not necessary,” Ballard said. “If you can send him back here when he arrives, we’ll take it from there.”

“And no blowback on me, right?” Beaupre said.

“No blowback on you,” Ballard said. “We have you covered.”

“Good,” Beaupre said. “I’ll be in my office. The intercom buzz will go to me and then I’ll bring him to you.”

She left the room, closing the door behind her.

Ballard looked at Bosch and tried to gauge what he was thinking about the setup. She couldn’t read him and was about to ask if he wanted to change the interview plan, when Beaupre stuck her head in through the doorway.

“Imagine that, this guy’s an early bird,” she said. “You two ready?”

Ballard nodded at Bosch and he nodded back.

“Bring him in,” he said.

Ballard looked around at the room. She quickly started moving chairs, putting two side by side and facing a third in the center.

“I wish we had a table,” she said. “It will feel weird without a table.”

“It’s better without one,” Bosch said. “He can’t hide his hands. They tell a lot.”

Ballard was thinking about that when the door opened again and Beaupre led Kurt Pascal in.

“This is Kurt Pascal,” she said. “And this is Renée and…is it Harry?”

“Right,” Bosch said. “Harry.”

Both Ballard and Bosch shook Pascal’s hand and Ballard signaled him to the single chair. He was wearing baggy polyester workout pants and a red pullover hoodie. He was shorter than Ballard had expected and the baggy clothes camouflaged his body shape. His long brown hair was streaked with a slash of red dye and tied up in a topknot.

Pascal hesitated before sitting down.

“You want me to sit or do you want to see my stuff?” he asked.

He hooked his thumbs into the elastic band of his pants.

“We want you to sit,” Ballard said.

She and Bosch both waited for Pascal to sit first, then Ballard sat down. Bosch remained on his feet, leaning his hands on the back of the empty folding chair so he could cut off any move Pascal made toward the room’s door.

“Okay, I’m sitting,” Pascal said. “What do you want to know?”

Ballard pulled her badge and held it up to him.

“Mr. Pascal, Ms. Beaupre doesn’t know this but we’re not really movie producers,” she said. “I’m Detective Ballard, LAPD, and this is my partner, Detective Bosch.”

“What the fuck?” Pascal said.

He started to stand. Bosch immediately took his hands off his chair and stood straight, ready to keep Pascal from the door.

“Sit down, Mr. Pascal,” Ballard ordered. “We need your help.”

Pascal froze. It seemed to be the first time in his life that anyone had asked him for help.

He then slowly sat back down.

“What’s this about?” he asked.

“We’re trying to find a man—a dangerous man—and we think you might be able to help,” Ballard said. “You have a past association with him.”

“Who?”

“Wilson Gayley.”

Pascal started to laugh and then shook his head.

“Are you fucking with me?” he asked.

“No, Mr. Pascal, we’re not fucking with you,” Ballard said.

“Wilson Gayley is dangerous? What did he do? Run a stop sign? Flip off a nun?”

“We can’t share the details of the case we’re working. It’s a confidential investigation and anything you tell us will be confidential as well. Do you know where he is at the moment?”

“What? No. I haven’t seen that guy in a couple years, at least. Somebody had a party for him when he got out of prison, and I saw him there. But that was like three years ago.”

“So you have no idea where he is these days?”

“I have an idea where he isn’t and that’s in L.A. I mean, if he was here, I would have seen him around, you know?”

Pascal shoved his hands into the front pocket of the hoodie. Ballard realized he could hide his hands even without a table.

“How did you know Wilson Gayley in the first place?” Bosch asked.

Pascal shrugged like he was not sure how to answer.