“Thank you, Your Honor.”

“Anything else?”

“I think that is it.”

“Then, have a good day.”

“Yes, Your Honor. Thank you.”

I got up and headed toward the door but then remembered something and turned back to stand in front of the judge’s desk.

“Judge? I forgot something. I saw your calendar from last week out there and noticed that Jerry Vincent came in on the Elliot matter. I haven’t thoroughly reviewed the case file yet, but do you mind my asking what the hearing was about?”

The judge had to think for a moment to recall the hearing.

“It was an emergency motion. Mr. Vincent came in because Judge Stanton had revoked bail and ordered Mr. Elliot remanded to custody. I stayed the revocation.”

“Why was it revoked?”

“Mr. Elliot had traveled to a film festival in New York without getting permission. It was one of the qualifiers of bail. When Mr. Golantz, the prosecutor, saw a picture of Elliot at the festival in People magazine, he asked Judge Stanton to revoke bail. He obviously wasn’t happy that bail had been allowed in the first place. Judge Stanton revoked and then Mr. Vincent came to me for an emergency stay of his client’s arrest and incarceration. I decided to give Mr. Elliot a second chance and to modify his freedom by making him wear an ankle monitor. But I can assure you that Mr. Elliot will not receive a third chance. Keep that in mind if you should retain him as a client.”

“I understand, Judge. Thank you.”

I nodded and left the chambers, thanking Mrs. Gill as I walked out through the courtroom.

Harry Bosch’s card was still in my pocket. I dug it out while I was going down in the elevator. I had parked in a pay lot by the Kyoto Grand Hotel and had a three-block walk that would take me right by Parker Center. I called Bosch’s cell phone as I headed to the courthouse exit.

“This is Bosch.”

“It’s Mickey Haller.”

There was a hesitation. I thought that maybe he didn’t recognize my name.

“What can I do for you?” he finally asked.

“How’s the investigation going?”

“It’s going, but nothing I can talk to you about.”

“Then I’ll just get to the point. Are you in Parker Center right now?”

“That’s right. Why?”

“I’m heading over from the courthouse. Meet me out front by the memorial.”

“Look, Haller, I’m busy. Can you just tell me what this is about?”

“Not on the phone, but I think it will be worth your while. If you’re not there when I go by, then I’ll know you’ve passed on the opportunity and I won’t bother you with it again.”

I closed the phone before he could respond. It took me five minutes to get over to Parker Center by foot. The place was in its last years of life, its replacement being built a block over on Spring Street. I saw Bosch standing next to the fountain that was part of the memorial for officers killed in the line of duty. I saw thin white wires leading from his ears to his jacket pocket. I walked up and didn’t bother with a handshake or any other greeting. He pulled the earbuds out and shoved them into his pocket.