“I mean it, Detective. I’ve been through all of the active cases. There is nothing in any of them that constitutes a threat or reason for Vincent to feel threatened. There is nothing in any of them that connects to the FBI. There is nothing in any of them that indicates Jerry Vincent stumbled onto something that put him in harm’s way. Besides, when you find out bad things about your clients, they’re protected. So there’s nothing there. I mean, he wasn’t representing mobsters. He wasn’t representing drug dealers. There wasn’t anything in—”

“He represents murderers.”

“Accused murderers. And at the time of his death he had only one murder case — Walter Elliot — and there isn’t anything there. Believe me, I’ve looked.”

I wasn’t so sure I believed it as I said it but Bosch didn’t seem to notice. He finally sat down on the edge of the chair in front of the desk, and his face seemed to change. There was an almost desperate look to it.

“Jerry was divorced,” I offered. “Did you check out the ex-wife?”

“They got divorced nine years ago. She’s happily remarried and about to have her second kid. I don’t think a woman seven months pregnant is going to come gunning for an ex-husband she hasn’t talked to in nine years.”

“Any other relatives?”

“A mother in Pittsburgh. The family angle is dry.”

“Girlfriend?”

“He was banging his secretary but there was nothing serious there. And her alibi checks out. She was also banging his investigator. And they were together that night.”

I felt my face turning red. That sordid scenario wasn’t too far from my own current situation. At least Lorna, Cisco and I had been entangled at different times. I rubbed my face as if I were tired and hoped it would account for my new coloration.

“That’s convenient,” I said. “That they alibi each other.”

Bosch shook his head.

“It checks out through witnesses. They were with friends at a screening at Archway. That big-shot client of yours got them the invitation.”

I nodded and took an educated guess at something, then threw a zinger at Bosch.

“The guy you sweated in a room that first night was the investigator, Bruce Carlin.”

“Who told you that?”

“You just did. You had a classic love triangle. It would’ve been the place to start.”

“Smart lawyer. But like I said, it didn’t pan out. We spent a night on it and in the morning we were still at square one. Tell me about the money.”

He’d thrown a zinger right back at me.

“What money?”

“The money in the business accounts. I suppose you’re going to tell me they are protected territory, too.”