[birds chirping]
- Buffed your boots. - [Bosch] Thanks.
Tying my tie.
You look nice.
Thanks. So do you.
That's a good suit on you.
Worn it way too many times.
It's a beautiful day.
January in L.A. Can't beat it.
Should be raining.
Cold, wet, miserable.
California funerals.
Ought to be raining.
You okay?
Let's go.
[dog barking in distance]
[bicycle passing]
[indistinct chatter]
[chatter continues]
I fixed you a plate.
No, thanks. Not hungry.
Gotta eat sometime, Dad.
I know. I will. Later. I promise.
Bella Winslow. Donna's daughter.
Yes, we know. Maddie Bosch.
This is my dad.
Harry Bosch.
I'm so sorry.
Your mother was an extraordinary woman.
- Thank you for coming. - [Maddie] Of course.
Lovely service.
It was, wasn't it? It's such a gorgeous day.
It feels like it should be raining cats and dogs.
I know what you mean.
My mother spoke very fondly of you.
- I was very fond of her. - So she said.
I'm grateful to you. You put a spring in her step
and roses in her cheeks.
It was mutual.
I'll miss her.
Thank you again for coming.
Call me.
We should get coffee before I leave town.
I'd like that.
- Don't say it. - What?
Whatever you were going to say.
Wouldn't dream of it.
So Donna's daughter.
- You should give her a call. - Bella?
Maybe I will.
- We have a lot in common. - Yeah.
Did you call the hospital this morning?
I did.
She's stable. Still critical.
When will I get to see her?
When she's conscious.
Day by day, Mads.
Day by day.
♪ ♪
- ♪ I got a feeling that I can't let go ♪ - ♪ Can't let go ♪
♪ I got a feeling that I can't let go ♪
- ♪ I got a feeling that I can't let go ♪ - ♪ Can't let go ♪
- ♪ I got a feeling that I can't let go ♪
- ♪ Can't let go, can't let go ♪
♪ Got a feeling that I can't let go ♪
- ♪ I got a feeling that I can't let go ♪ - ♪ Can't let go, can't let go ♪
♪ Can't let go ♪
♪ ♪
♪ Like me ♪♪
[Billets] A broken surveillance camera isn't much use.
[Patterson] Well, I thought it was a deterrent.
Mm, kids, maybe. But not anyone who knows what they're doing.
Been planning to get it fixed.
Okay, when you do, position the monitor
so that your customers can see that they're on camera.
- That is a deterrent. - Gotcha.
I would also recommend an audible alarm
- with a panic button. - I-I've got an alarm.
Panic button is key.
First, fix the cameras.
You've got a lot of nice merchandise in here.
Oh? You see anything you like?
- Earrings are my weakness. - Ah.
- Oh, no, no, no. Not today. - I'll give you a nice price.
Oh, for me, full price is a good price.
So if there isn't anything more, Mr. Patterson,
I've got a couple more stops to make.
Ah. Well, I appreciate you stopping by, Lieutenant.
That's what we're here for. To protect and serve.
[chuckles]
[vocalizing softly]
I see that Héctor Lavoe salsa swagger in your step.
- What you got? - Prints came back.
- Fowkkes murder book? - Yup.
"Charles Kipps"?
That's him. That's our hit man.
Charles Kipps. Have gun, will travel.
- Got a record? - Clean sheet.
Where'd you find his prints?
Military. M.P. Military po-lice.
That explains his skill set. Where's his hidey hole?
Vegas. Least that's where the VA sends his pension.
I'll reach out to Sin City PD. Get those warrants started.
Road trip.
- Can't we fly? - Ah-ah.
Bring the murder book.
Fleet of taco trucks, half dozen hole-in-the-wall Mexican joints.
Way I read it, Peña's getting out of the life.
- From extortion to ownership. - American dream.
Mm. And get this: rental properties.
In gentrifying neighborhoods.
East Hollywood, Thai Town, Echo Park... all legit.
Legit if you ignore where the money comes from.
Feds are turning a blind eye. Why?
I tried, Bosch. I really did.
All I got was "need to know" and "you don't need to know."
And, "if you know what's good for you,
you'll leave it the fuck alone."
- I'm the original slow learner. - [chuckles softly]
Peña's got federal friends in high places.
Apparently.
LAPD's had eyes on him for months.
[phone ringing]
This is Billets.
[Marsha] Grace. Marsha Macken.
Marsh'. It's been ages.
Is this about my harassment complaint?
I wish.
Oh, what's up?
Better if we talk in person.
Can it wait till end of watch?
Text you time and place.
[sighs]
A $150,000 consulting fee for a mayoral campaign
doesn't strike me as unusual. Or egregious.
It isn't a consulting firm, sir. If you'll turn the page.
It's a dummy corporation. Owned by Henry Myers.
Henry Myers, head of Federated L.A. Labor?
The very same.
He backed Lopez.
Now I know why.
He had a lot of incentive.
Why'd the Bureau drop their investigation?
Last page, sir.
"Insufficient evidence to prove a quid pro quo."
Touchy stuff. First-term, first Latina mayor?
They'd want to make damn sure
she was dirty before going ahead.
So they shelved it.
- Good work, Captain. - Thank you, sir.
[door opens]
[door closes]
[phone ringing]
Jimmy.
[Robertson] I hate to nag.
Hit man's burner.
I put a rush on it. Call you soon as I hear.
Okay. I'm on my way to Vegas.
Road trip. Me and Bennett.
What's in Vegas?
Charles Kipps, the hit man.
Located his last known.
Got a friendly out there.
LVPD detective named Iverson.
I'll reach out.
When you toss his place, keep an eye out
for any connection between Kipps and Willy Datz.
The mobster? Will do.
- And, Jimmy? - Yeah?
Let Bennett drive.
Fuck you, Bosch.
[chuckles softly]
You didn't know Peña was their CI.
Fuck no.
Feds don't tell us jack.
You sure?
They let him launder his drug money
buying fucking taco trucks and run-down real estate.
They disappear Alvarez before he can finger Peña for arson.
Bureau's protecting him, no question.
Shit.
That's a tough break, brother.
Shuts down your case. You'll never get to Peña.
Don't count on it. I need to talk to Trejo.
- Trejo won't talk. - Something I want to show him.
Reach out to his lawyer. Make it happen, yeah?
[indistinct chatter]
- Marsh'. - Grace.
Sorry about the cloak-and-dagger.
What's going on?
Serious beef lodged against you.
Fuck me. For what?
You're on the take.
And I'm not talking about
the occasional five-dollar latte.
Well, of course not.
It'd never be something that trivial.
Well, feel free to reassure me with your righteous outrage.
This is pushback.
The two police officers?
Exactly.
So, where did it come from?
The allegation.
Civilian complaint.
Civilian?
[quietly] What the fuck?
[♪ Ron Carter: "Por-De-Sol"]
Is there any more boxes?
Right there.
[dishes clatter]
Ron Carter?
Good ear. Raised you right.
[laughs softly]
I've converted Antonio, you know.
- To jazz? - Jazz on vinyl.
Doing the Lord's work. Proud of you.
Yeah, I think moving in together
and taking time off school is going to be good for me.
I think I need time to think.
A lot of thinking.
Think you'll get a job?
Eventually.
Once Honey goes back to work.
Could be a while.
If ever.
I know.
Antonio's okay with this?
What about money? Your share of the rent?
We'll work it out.
Okay, you know, the monthly survivor payments
- end once you leave school. - I know.
I have a bit of it saved.
- Plus what Mom left for me. - Okay, Madeline,
your mother intended that to be used for emergencies.
This feels like an emergency, Dad.
It does?
After everything that's happened?
Definitely.
Okay.
I get that.
I think I just need time.
Figure out what I'm doing with my life.
Okay.
Credit and debit card numbers.
Sounds like Señor Peña's snug as a bug in a rug
in some Motel Fed.
I'm a sucker for a wild-goose chase
and a fool's errand.
Long shot, I know.
Well, for the Little Tamale Girl,
no turn unstoned.
Appreciate it, brother.
You know that's a spoonerism? No turn unstoned?
I know what a spoonerism is.
That was intentional.
Could be a sign of cognitive decline.
Decline this.
[phone ringing]
Dylan, any luck?
Great. Send it through now. Thanks.
- Hit man's burner come back? - Finally.
Morning of, Kipps got a text from an unknown number.
"Is it done?"
Received downtown Los Angeles.
About the time he had Donna at gunpoint.
Sorry, man.
Jimmy found the hit man's burner,
we texted that unknown number back.
"It's over."
Right.
Where was that text received?
- Las Vegas. - Willy Datz?
That'd be my guess.
So the first text, "Is it done?"
That's Datz asking Kipps
if he'd killed Fowkkes and Sobel yet.
And Maddie.
We had an understanding.
I made no promises.
The status quo would continue
in exchange for my support.
I'm sorry if you misconstrued our conversations.
Henry Myers.
I'll bet he's just the tip of the iceberg.
Who else bought a ticket to the ball?
What do you want?
Only what's owed me.
I look forward to five more years
of working with you for the betterment
of the people of this great city.
L.T.
Norris and Leonard.
What a pair of weasels.
Thanks, Mank.
Now what?
I'm not sure.
Cooper?
Where investigations go to die.
- Take it outside the chain? - That's risky.
Bureaucratic blowback, I'm...
Well, I'm not going to sit back and let these two pricks
destroy my reputation.
I get it. I know.
Sorry, L.T.,
a couple of suits in the parking lot
tossing your city ride.
All right, whoa.
Slow your roll, guys, all right?
- I will handle this. - Out of my way, Mank.
After you, Alphonse.
[indistinct chatter]
What the hell is going on?
Whoa, whoa. Stop right there.
Lieutenant Billets?
Who are you? And what the fuck are you doing?
Lieutenant Klotz. Investigating a complaint.
- From whom? - I cannot tell you that.
Bullshit. Where's your warrant?
Don't need one. City property.
This car belongs to LAPD.
Now, step back and let us do our job, hmm?
That's not mine.
I have never seen that before.
Why don't we head inside, Lieutenant?
See if we can sort this out.
Don't say anything without a rep.
What's eating you?
Peña.
What about him?
He's gonna skate without a fucking scratch.
Thanks to the Feds.
They don't give a shit about our little arson fire.
They do not.
- Doesn't fucking sit right. - No, it doesn't.
There's gotta be a work-around.
As a matter of fact, there is.
You gonna tell me about it?
If it pans out.
Harry...
Less you know, the better.
I don't like the sound of that.
Trust me.
[Edgar] The memorial.
It's gone.
Bet the owners took it down.
Lieutenant.
Sir.
You're entitled to have a rep present.
I don't need one.
Very well.
As you know,
there's been an allegation of corrupt conduct
- lodged against you. - Who is the complainant?
Um...
Andrew Patterson. Gift of Gold jewelry.
He was on your reach-out list.
I met with him yesterday. We discussed a security plan.
He seemed satisfied.
Claims you strong-armed him
into giving you a pair of expensive earrings.
In exchange for "enhanced" police services.
That's ridiculous.
I.A. found a pair of gold earrings
from his store in your car.
They were planted.
This is a setup.
This has Leonard and Norris written all over it.
Again?
You're obsessed with these guys.
You really gonna go there?
If by "go there" you mean defend myself, absolutely.
So be it.
I have no choice but to assign you home,
pending the outcome of this investigation.
That's not necessary.
I can continue to work from here.
Consider yourself lucky you're not getting booked tonight.
What's going on?
The usual treason and fuckery.
[exhales]
Lieutenant?
Not here.
Let me give you a ride home.
I'm gonna need a favor.
[sniffs] Look into this son of a bitch.
[dispatcher] Charlie 2-3, that register information
on that blue SUV, Nevada plate 4-Delta-Alpha-9-0-2, stand by.
[sputters, clicks tongue]
[sighs]
[deep sigh]
What do we have here?
Looks like Kipps kept a scorecard.
Insurance. Case he had to deal someday.
[Iverson] Only works if you're not dead.
He left it where it could be found.
Under a mattress instead of a safe-deposit box.
Revenge? From beyond the grave?
I would. Take some motherfuckers with me.
Does he name names?
About a dozen victims.
Maybe more.
Franzen, Chandler...
Maddie B.
Who ordered those hits? Can you tell?
Those three?
Carl Rogers.
See?
Exhibit A. Rogers is toast.
Looks like Rogers arranged it through Fowkkes,
gave him the targets.
[Iverson] A full-service law firm.
Fowkkes call Kipps directly?
[clicks tongue]
Don't think so.
[Bosch] Willy Datz.
Right.
Fowkkes called Datz to set up the hits.
Datz gave Kipps the who, the when, the where.
Datz figured Fowkkes had to go.
Middleman knew too much.
The last loophole.
[door opens]
Hey, listen. On our way to LVPD to background Datz.
Iverson's working the warrants.
We'll hook Datz at his place tomorrow.
Have a better one.
Later.
Ready?
Let's roll.
I'm looking for Peña. Have you seen him?
I haven't seen him. He hasn't been around.
[engine turns off]
Ten cuidado, eh.
Hey, hey. Hey, tranquilo.
Tranquilo. Tranquilo.
[grunts, groans]
[grunts]
[groans]
[cork pops]
He asleep?
Yes.
To our son James.
Our precious son.
Home at last.
[glasses clink]
We, um, we have something else to celebrate.
Oh?
My second term.
I met with the mayor today.
Oh, Irv. That is so wonderful.
What changed her mind?
My unparalleled powers of persuasion.
Oh, yeah.
I can attest to those.
Cheers, Chief.
[Antonio] Hey, buddy.
Make yourself at home.
So what's the custody arrangement?
Dad gets him every other weekend, Christmas Eve,
Fourth of July and six weeks in the summer.
You're kidding. Seriously?
I'm kidding. We're playing it by ear.
He'll take him whenever he's not working.
I guess we'll be seeing a lot of you.
Do you mind?
Mi casa es tu casa.
Yeah, I don't think he speaks Spanish.
[Antonio] High time he learned.
I guess we should make it official.
Do you keep a key underneath your mat?
You might as well leave the front door open.
I keep an extra key under the mat.
[laughs]
You are a mess.
Do you also hide your money under your mattress?
Please.
Everyone knows the freezer's a much better place.
[laughs]
[Coltrane whines softly]
[phone ringing]
Vega?
[Vega] Patterson likes to beat on his wife.
She had to get a restraining order.
One of the conditions of that order is
he turn in his firearms, which he has not done.
Gives you a reason to go and talk to him.
And PC for a search warrant.
In the works.
One more thing.
Patterson was issued a concealed carry permit a few years back.
That's not easy to get.
Know who vouched for him?
Captain Dennis Cooper.
- Find anything? - Three handguns.
Two registered to Patterson,
another with the serial number filed off.
- A couple solid violations. - That's our leverage.
We'll book the guns. He's all yours.
Appreciate it, Rick.
Good cop, bad cop?
Your case, your choice.
Feeling kind of badass today.
Stand back.
You don't think I can do it?
- Way too nice. - Hmm, watch me.
[desk phone ringing]
[ringing continues]
Detective Bosch.
[Morgan] Detective, it's Kai Morgan.
Morgan, what's up?
I'm over at Saint Ags.
You know a man named Hector Hernandez?
Found your card in his wallet.
He okay?
Caught a beating yesterday in East Hollywood.
Asking around about Mickey Peña.
I'm on my way.
I forgot to turn 'em in. What's the big deal?
- You violated a court order. - Contempt of court?
What's that, like,
- six months in county? - I thought it was a year.
All right, come on.
- On your feet, shitbird. - What for?
We're booking you.
- Now. - For what?
Filing a false complaint.
Participating in a criminal conspiracy.
Holy shit.
[Pierce] There's a way you can make it right.
Come clean about your relationship
with Captain Cooper.
And you won't tell him that I told you?
We will if you don't.
W... [sighs]
All right, we go way back. We're fraternity brothers.
Over the years, he's done me a favor from time to time.
You know, permits and red tape.
Dealing with the city is a frigging nightmare.
- [handcuffs click] - So you owe him.
Yeah. I owe him.
Last time you spoke?
Uh...
The other day he dropped by,
he wanted to see a pair of gold earrings.
Told me a couple of cops were gonna come in
and I should give the earrings to them.
"Present for a friend."
He pay for them?
My treat. It's always my treat.
The officers who picked up the earrings,
can you describe them?
Young. One white guy, uh, one Asian.
[monitor beeping steadily]
I wanted to find him.
Look him in the eye.
That's all.
And then what?
Then I'd know.
Did he do it?
I'd know.
Mr. Hernandez, I can't imagine the loss you've suffered.
I can't.
But you need to step aside, let us do our job.
I promise.
We'll get you justice for your wife and daughter.
That's all I want.
Okay?
Okay.
We're gonna show you some pictures.
You recognize any of them, don't be afraid to tell us.
- [phone ringing] - We will arrest them. Okay?
Okay, excuse me.
Bosch.
On my way.
- Gotta go. - I got this.
[exhales shakily]
Okay, Mr. Hernandez.
I want you to take your time.
Okay. [grunts]
[Iverson] Looks like Datz isn't home.
Was he tipped off?
What're you suggesting?
Just asking the question.
- I resent the insinuation. - [officer] Clear!
I wasn't insinuating anything.
- Sorry. - [officer 2] Clear!
No offense intended.
[officer] All clear, all clear.
All right, let's get crackin'.
Bennett, you'll take the downstairs.
We'll work back to front.
Santiago and I'll search his bedroom.
I'll have a couple unis toss the garage.
Let's move out.
[computer whooshes]
[whooshes]
Jimmy! Iverson!
What you got?
[Bennett] His computer's open.
Datz is active on his messenger app.
We're receiving his messages as they post.
Hmm, why would he leave his computer on?
I don't know. Maybe he wants to access it remotely?
Or maybe he's a knuckle-dragging moron
and doesn't know how to turn it off.
It's why they get caught.
[Bennett] Hey, take a look.
- When did this come in? - Just now.
[Robertson] "Wheels up tonight at 7:30."
He flying somewhere?
[Bennett] "Pick-up confirmation.
Musso and Frank's, 4:30."
- From L.A. Limo. - He's in L.A.
Son of a bitch.
[Bennett] Flying out of Van Nuys.
Private jet.
Late lunch at Musso and Frank's, flying back here tonight.
Yeah, we could sit tight and arrest his ass
- when he lands at McCarran. - [Iverson] Do me a solid.
Make my life easier.
Take the putz down in L.A.
Pleasure.
I'll call Bosch and Edgar.
I had a call from Special Agent in Charge Brenner himself.
And "irate" would be understating it.
Peña's good for my murders, I know he is,
- but I can't get to him. - [phone ringing]
I can't help you.
There's gotta be a way.
Step in. Demand cooperation.
It's over, Bosch. When the time comes,
you can have Trejo and Alvarez for the fire.
But Peña's off-limits.
- The fuck he is! - Stand down, Detective.
That's an order. And stay away from Agent Reece, for her sake.
- How long have you known? - What?
About Peña and the Feds.
I don't know what you're talking about.
I got five innocent victims and you're asking me
to stand down? On the ringleader?
It's not an ask. It's a direct order.
Sometimes we have to make compromises
for the greater good.
Bullshit. This man lost his only child.
And you of all people should be able to relate to that.
Motherfucker, get out.
[door closes]
[Robertson] See you when I see you.
[line ringing]
[Edgar] Robertson reach you?
Yeah, he left me a voice mail
while I was in with the chief.
Fill you in, too?
Yeah, he did.
I've got some more business
to do downtown. Can you handle this mook?
No problem.
I'll take Pierce.
What're you doing?
Working on my work-around.
[indistinct chatter]
- Mr. Datz? L.A. Limo. - You're late.
And you're under arrest.
You heard the man. Hands, asshole.
- [handcuffs clicking] - Fuck. Take it easy.
[sirens wailing]
- That fucking hurts. - Shut the fuck up.
- You call that a Miranda? - Wiseguy.
[Datz grunts]
[Bosch] What's that look like to you?
Hijo de puta.
Looks like Mickey Peña.
And his friends?
You tell me.
FBI.
[scoffs] Feds.
Fucking Feds.
Peña gets a new name and a new life, Trejo.
What do you get?
Fucked.
I get fucked.
I want my fucking phone call.
You kiss your mother with that mouth?
- Fuck you. - Snap.
[grunts] Ow. Motherfucker.
Heads up.
What's that about?
A little bit of justice in an unjust world.
What'd they do?
Ask Billets.
L.T.?
What's going on?
Pest control.
I'll be back.
When pigs fly.
It's better than throwing him through a plate glass window.
What corroboration do you have for this alleged
conversation with Miguel Peña? Did Trejo record it?
No.
- Did anyone else witness it? - Pedro Alvarez.
- Will he testify? - [Bosch] In federal custody.
His current whereabouts are unknown.
[sighs]
Not sure I relish a pissing match with the U.S. Attorney.
Emmanuel Trejo, he's a career criminal.
He's an O.G., a shot caller for a notorious street gang
and he's a principal in this heinous crime.
He's facing multiple felony murder charges.
He has no reason to lie. He's not asking for a deal.
- He wouldn't get one. - He knows that.
So what's his motivation for coming forward? Why now?
My client just found out that Miguel Peña's a federal CI.
A government snitch.
Trejo thinks it's unjust that a rat like Peña,
who ordered the fire,
gets to walk, while he rots in prison for the rest of his life.
All right. I'll take it under advisement.
[♪ Art Pepper: "Patricia"]
♪ ♪
[song ends]
[record crackling]
[phone ringing]
Collins.
[Irving] I need you to put a pin
in their communications with Las Palmas,
effective immediately.
Where's this coming from?
Word just came down.
♪ ♪
[phone ringing]
Collins. What's up?
How'd it go today?
Trejo's pissed off
and ready to talk, but the DDA wants corroboration.
Shit.
Listen.
Can you meet me tomorrow,
- first thing? - What's shakin'?
I can't get into detail
this minute, I'm with a snitch.
Give me the headline.
Just got a call. Word from on high.
Las Palmas is a no-fly zone.
Stand the fuck down.
There's a big RICO caper about to pop.
How high on high?
Straight from the top of LAPD.
- Irving. - No names
were mentioned, but you know.
Listen, here comes my snitch. Gotta go.
♪ ♪
[sighs]
♪ ♪