“He wasn’t afraida shit. But he knew he was a dead man.”

“What do you mean?”

“You people is what I mean. He knew you would come gunnin’ for him someday. Somebody finally did. Prob’ly come for me, too, one day. Tha’s why as soon as I get my money I’m splittin’ this place. All you cops can have it. And tha’s all I got to say, Chet.”

“Why do you call me that?”

“Because that’s what you are. You’re a Chet, Chet.”

Harris’s smile was a challenge. Bosch held his gaze for a moment, then turned to Entrenkin and nodded. She took it from there.

“Michael, do you know who I am?”

“Sure, I seen ya on the TV. Just like Mr. Elias. I know you.”

“Then you know I am not a police officer. My job is to make sure the police officers in this city are honest and do their jobs the way they should be done.”

Harris snickered.

“You got a lot a work ’head you, lady.”

“I know that, Michael. But the reason I am here is to tell you that I think these three detectives want to do what is right. They want to find the person who killed Howard Elias, whether it is a cop or not. And I want to help them. You should want to help as well. You owe Howard that much. So will you please answer a few more questions?”

Harris looked around the room and at the gun in his hand. It was a Smith & Wesson 9 millimeter with a satin finish. Bosch wondered if Harris would have brandished it in front of them if he knew the murder weapon was a nine. Harris shoved the weapon into the crack between the seat cushion and the arm of the big chair.

“Okay, I guess. But not Chet. I don’ talk to white cops or Tom boys. You ask me.”

Entrenkin looked back at Bosch and then back to Harris.

“Michael, I want the detectives to ask the questions. They are better at it than me. But I think it’s okay for you to answer.”

Harris shook his head.

“You don’t unnerstand, lady. Why should I help these fuckers? These people tortured me for no fucking reason. I ain’t got forty percent of my hearing because of the L-A-P-D. I ain’t cop-eratin’. Now if you got a question, then you ask it.”

“Okay, Michael, that’s fine,” Entrenkin said. “Tell me about last night. What did you and Howard work on?”

“We worked on my testimony. Only you know how the cops call it testi-lying on account they never tell the damn truth when it comes to the brothers? Well, I call it my testi-money ’cause the LAPD is going to pay my ass for framin’ me and then fuckin’ with me. Damn right.”