“Doesn’t matter. The press releases have been made, the press conferences given, the story’s out and the city is ready to go like kindling. You think the people in the south end care which cop killed Elias? They don’t give a shit. They already have what they want. Chastain, Sheehan, doesn’t matter. What matters is that a badge did it. And if you go making noise you’ll just be adding more fuel to the fire. You bring up Chastain and you bring up the cover-up. A lot of people might get hurt, lose their jobs, all because they wanted to head this off in the first place. You better think about that, Harry. Nobody cares.”

Bosch nodded. He understood the message. Go along to get along.

“I care,” he said.

“Is that enough of a reason?”

“What about Chastain then?”

Garwood had a thin smile on his face. Bosch could see it behind the glowing point of his cigarette.

“I think Chastain deserves whatever he gets. And someday he’ll get it.”

Now there was a new message and Bosch thought he understood that as well.

“And what about Frankie Sheehan? What about his reputation?”

“There’s that,” Garwood said, nodding. “Frankie Sheehan was one of my guys . . . but he’s dead and his family doesn’t live here anymore.”

Bosch said nothing but that answer wasn’t acceptable. Sheehan was his friend and partner. Tainting him tainted Bosch himself.

“You know what bothers me?” Garwood asked. “And maybe you might be able to help me, being that you and Sheehan were partners at one time.”

“What? What bothers you?”

“The gun Sheehan used. It wasn’t yours now, was it? I know they asked you that.”

“No, not mine. We had gone by his house on the way to mine. To get clothes and things. He must’ve picked it up then. The FBI must’ve missed it when they searched his place.”

Garwood nodded.

“I heard you made notification to his wife. Did you ask her about that? You know, about the gun.”

“I asked. She said she didn’t know about any gun but that doesn’t — ”

“No serial number,” Garwood said, cutting in. “A throw-down gun, everybody knows that’s what that was.”

“Yeah.”

“And that’s what bothers me. I knew Sheehan a lot of years. He worked for me a long time and you get to know your guys. I never knew him to be the kind of guy who would have a throw-down . . . I asked some of the other guys — especially the ones that partnered with him since you went to Hollywood. They never knew about a throw-down. What about you, Harry? You worked with him the longest. Did he ever carry an extra piece?”