“All right,” he said. “But you keep that weapon low and at your side. You point it at one of us and we’re going to have a big problem. We understand each other?”

“Oh, we understand.”

Harris backed away from the door and let them in by pointing the weapon toward the living room.

“Remember, keep that thing down,” Bosch said sternly.

Harris dropped the gun to his side and they all entered. The apartment was furnished with rental stuff — puffy couch and matching chairs in light blue, cheap faux wood tables and shelves. Pastoral prints were on the walls. There was a cabinet with a television in it. The news was on.

“Have a seat, ladies and gentlemen.”

Harris took one of the big chairs, slumping in it so that the back rose above his head, giving him the appearance of sitting on a throne. Bosch stepped over and turned the television off, then introduced everybody and showed his badge.

“It figure the white man in charge,” Harris said.

Bosch ignored it.

“I take it you know that Howard Elias was murdered last night?” he asked.

“Course I know. Been sittin’ here watchin’ it all got-damned day.”

“Then why’d you say you wouldn’t talk to us without your lawyer if you knew your lawyer was dead?”

“I got more than one lawyer, dumbshit. I also got a crim’nal lawyer and I got a entertainment lawyer. I got lawyers, don’t worry. And I’ll get another to take Howie’s place. I’m gonna need ’em, man, ’specially after they start cuttin’ up in South Central. I’mma have my own riot like Rodney. That’ll put me on top.”

Bosch could barely follow Harris’s line of thought but he understood enough to know Harris was on a power trip at his own community’s expense.

“Well, let’s talk about your late lawyer, Howard Elias. When was the last time you saw him?”

“Last night, but you already know that, right Chet?”

“Till when?”

“Till we walked out the muthafuckin’ door. Are you throwin’ down on me, man?”

“What?”

“You in-ter-OH-gatin’ me, man?”

“I’m trying to find out who killed Elias.”

“You did that. You people got him.”

“Well, that’s a possibility. That’s what we’re trying to find out.”

Harris laughed as if what Bosch had said was absurd.

“Yeah, you know that thing they say about the kettle and the pot, that’s what that is.”

“We’ll see. When did you two part company? You and Howard Elias.”

“When he went to his apartment and I went home.”

“Which was when?”

“I don’t know, Chet. Quarter to ’leven, ’leven a’clock. I don’t wear a watch. People tell me the time when I want to know it. They say on the news he got his ass shot at ’leven, so we left quarter of.”

“Had he mentioned any threats? Was he afraid of anyone?”