Page 38
His phone dinged and he saw that Ballard was already calling him in.
“That’s me,” he said.
“Good luck,” Chicquette said.
Bosch walked up the steps and through the front door into a small entry area with a hallway leading straight back. To the left was a formal dining room with a rectangular table; Gregory Talbot sat at one end of it and his wife, Gloria, at the other. Ballard was seated in the middle on one side. At the center of the table was the vase of tulips Bosch had left at the grave three days earlier.
Quickly assessing the scene, Bosch saw that neither of the Talbots was handcuffed, indicating that Ballard was executing the search warrant first. There were two SIS officers standing in the kitchen archway. They were there in case one of the Talbots tried to rabbit.
It was a play. Ballard was letting the Talbots think that the results of the search would determine whether they were arrested. The investigators knew from the recording captured by the tulip bug that Gregory Talbot had long ago gotten rid of all evidence. The couple would likely have false confidence, believing that the search was a last-ditch effort to make a case and that it would fail.
Nevertheless, the moment Gregory Talbot saw Bosch in the hall, he exploded.
“What the fuck is he doing here?” he yelled. “He’s not even a cop.”
“Harry, come on in,” Ballard said.
Bosch stepped into the room and Ballard signaled him to the chair across from her.
“He’s been consulting with us on the case,” she told Talbot.
“Whatever he’s told you, it’s lies,” he said. “Twenty-five years and this guy won’t let it go. It’s eating him up and he’s telling you lies. Big fucking lies.”
Bosch pulled out a chair and sat down. Ballard looked at Gloria when she next spoke.
“Well, someone’s been telling lies, and we’re about to find out who,” she said. “At this point I’m going to advise you both about your rights and we’ll go from there.”
“Uh-uh, no fucking way,” Talbot said. “We’re not talking to you people. We’re calling our lawyer. This is over.”
“Then let me go through the advisement and we’ll call your lawyer if you still wish,” Ballard said.
“Fine, whatever,” Talbot said. “This is a complete waste of time. He’s playing you, Detective Ballard, and you don’t even know it.”
Ballard opened her police ID wallet and read the rights advisement from a card behind a plastic window. After both Talbots stated that they understood their rights and were electing not to talk without an attorney present, Ballard nodded.
“That’s fine with us because we don’t need you to talk to us,” she said. “But we do want you to listen. Harry?”
Bosch brought his hand up from under the table and put down the mini-recorder. Without a word, he hit Play, and the voices of Gregory and Gloria Talbot were heard.
Gregory: If they had anything they would have arrested me a long time ago. They would have arrested us.
Gloria: Don’t talk like that. Just get home.
Gregory: He’s an old man now. He can’t do anything — he’s not even a cop anymore. He retired or they kicked him out. He fuckin’ walks with a cane.
Gloria: Doesn’t matter. He’s like a dog with a bone, that one.
Gregory: You gotta calm down, Gloria. He’s got nothing. I got rid of everything that could connect us a long time ago.
Gloria: Well, he must have something if he’s still coming around after twenty-five years.
Gregory: He thinks he does, but he doesn’t have shit. Believe me, we’re in the clear.
Gloria: I’ll believe it when he’s permanently in the graveyard with her and we don’t have to worry about him no more.
Gregory: That can be arranged. We’ve done it before.
Ballard reached across the table and stopped the tape. She pulled the tulip vase over to her and started picking through the flowers.
