“Okay. What are you not giving me?”

“I’m holding back only one file. It was his working file. It contains notes on strategy in the Harris case. I don’t think you should have that. I believe it goes directly to attorney-client privilege.”

“Strategy?”

“Basically, it’s a trial map. Howard liked to chart his trials. He once told me he was like a football coach who designs the plays and what order he will call them in before the game even starts. Howard always knew exactly where he wanted to go during trial. The trial map showed his strategy, what witness came when, when each piece of evidence was to be introduced, things like that. He had the first few questions for every one of his witnesses already written. And he also had his opening statement outlined and in the file.”

“Okay.”

“I can’t give it to you. It was the heart of his case and I think whoever the attorney is who inherits the case will want to follow the map. It was a brilliant plan. Therefore, the LAPD shouldn’t have it.”

“You think he was going to win?”

“Definitely. I take it you don’t?”

Bosch sat down in one of the chairs in front of the desk. Despite having taken the nap, he was still tired and feeling it.

“I don’t know the particulars of the case,” he said. “All I know is Frankie Sheehan. Harris accused him of some of that stuff — you know, with the plastic bag. And I know that’s not Frankie.”

“How can you be sure?”

“I can’t, I guess. But we go back. Sheehan and I were partners one time. It was a long time ago but you still know people. I know him. I can’t see him doing these things. I can’t see him letting anybody else do it, either.”

“People change.”

Bosch nodded.

“They do. But usually not at the core.”

“The core?”

“Let me tell you a story. One time Frankie and I brought this kid in. A carjacker. His deal was that first he’d steal a car, any shit can off the street, then he’d go out driving and looking for something nice, something he could take to a chop shop and get a decent amount of bread for. When he saw what he wanted he’d come up behind and at a stoplight he’d hit the back end. You know, like a little fender bender, not enough to do much damage. Then the owner of the Mercedes or the Porsche or whatever it was would get out to check. The jacker would get out and just jump into the target car and take off. The owner and the stolen shit can were left behind.”

“I remember when carjacking was the big fad.”