Michael Connelly - The Drop

“So,” she finally said. “Twenty-five years ago a task force headed by Irvin Irving results in McQuillen losing his job and career in a process that, at least in his view, was unfounded and unfair. Now we have what appears to be an attempt by Irving’s son and possibly the councilman himself to grab the franchise from the business where McQuillen now works as. . what, a night dispatcher?”

“Shift supervisor. Which I guess really means dispatcher.”

“And this adds up to him murdering George Irving. I can connect the dots but am having trouble with the motive, Harry.”

“Well, we don’t know anything about McQuillen, do we? We don’t know if he’s been carrying this grudge around like a festering wound and the opportunity simply presented itself. A driver calls in and says, ‘Guess who I just saw.’ We have the abrasion pattern on the shoulder — it’s unmistakable evidence of the choke hold. We also have a witness who saw somebody on the fire escape.”

“What witness? You didn’t tell me you had a witness.”

“I just found out today. The hillside behind the hotel was canvassed and they came up with a resident who saw a man on the fire escape ladder Sunday night. But he says it was twelve-forty A.M. and the coroner puts TOD no earlier than two and as late as four. So we have about a two-hour discrepancy. The guy on the ladder was going down at twelve-forty, not up. There is this, though. The witness described the guy on the ladder as wearing some sort of uniform. Gray top and gray pants. I was in B and W’s taxi barn today. It’s where the dispatch office is. The mechanics who work on the fleet wear gray coveralls. McQuillen could’ve put on coveralls before going up the ladder.”

Bosch flipped his hands out at his sides as if to say that was it. That was all he had. Rider was silent for a long moment before asking what Bosch knew she would ask.

“You always taught me to ask where the holes were. ‘Look at your case and find the holes. Because if you don’t find them, a defense attorney will do it for you.’ So, Harry, where are the holes?”

Bosch shrugged.

“The time discrepancy is a hole. And we don’t have anything that would put McQuillen in Irving’s room. All prints found in there and on the fire escape ladder were run through the computer. McQuillen’s would’ve come up.”

“How do you deal with the time discrepancy?”

“He was casing the place. That’s when the witness saw him. He didn’t see when McQuillen came back.”

Rider nodded.

“What about the marks on Irving’s shoulder? Can they be matched to McQuillen’s watch?”

“It’s possible but it won’t be conclusive. We might get lucky and even find DNA on the watch. But I think the big hole here is Irving. Why was he at the hotel in the first place? The McQuillen angle relies upon chance. Taxi driver sees Irving. He tells McQuillen. McQuillen’s deep-seated anger and bitterness take over. At the end of shift, he grabs a set of mechanic’s coveralls and goes to the hotel. He climbs up the side, somehow gets into Irving’s suite, and chokes him out. He strips the body and folds the clothes nice and neat but misses the button on the floor. He then drops him off the balcony and it looks like suicide. It works well enough in theory, but what was Irving doing there? Was he meeting someone? Waiting for someone? And why did he put his stuff — his wallet and phone and everything — in the room safe? If we can’t answer those questions, we’ve got a hole big enough to drive a getaway car through.”

She nodded in agreement.

“So what are you proposing we do now?”

“ We do nothing. I continue to work this. But you have to know and the chief has to know that as this goes forward it’s going to get close to the councilman. If I squeeze Robert Mason to find out why he started pulling over B and W drivers, it might come back directly to Irvin Irving himself. The chief should know that.”

“He will. Is that your next move?”

“I’m not sure yet. But I want to know as much as there is to know before I take on McQuillen.”

Rider stood up. She was impatient to go.

“Are you going back now?” she asked. “You want to walk?”

“No, you go ahead,” Bosch said. “I think I’m going to make a few phone calls.”

“All right, Harry. Good luck. Be careful out there.”

“Yeah, you, too. Be careful up there.”

She looked at him. She knew he meant on the tenth floor of the PAB. She smiled and he smiled back.

Bosch sat back down on the bench and composed himself. He then pulled his phone and called Hannah Stone’s cell number. She had given it to him when they parted ways Monday evening.

She answered right away, even though Bosch’s number was blocked.

“It’s Harry Bosch.”

“I thought it might be you. Is there anything new?”

“No, I’m working on something else today. But my partner is trying to run down the guy Chill.”

“Okay.”

“Anything new on your end?”

“No, just doing the same good work we always do.”

“That’s good.”

There was an awkward pause and then Bosch plowed ahead.

“My daughter is studying at a friend’s house tonight, so I’m free. And I was wondering — I mean, I know it’s pretty soon — but I wanted to see if you wanted to have dinner again tonight.”

“Uh. .”

“It’s no big deal. It’s short notice. I’ll—”

“No, no, it’s not that. It’s just that we have sessions on Wednesday and Thursday nights and I’m supposed to work tonight.”

“Don’t you get a dinner break?”

“Yes, but it’s too short. Tell you what, can I call you back?”

“Yes, but you don’t have to jump through any—”

“I want to, but I have to see if somebody will switch with me. I take tomorrow night if they take tonight. Can I call you back?”

“Sure.”

Bosch gave her his number and they disconnected. He got up, patted Charlie Chaplin on the shoulder and headed out the door.

When Bosch got back to the unit, Chu was working on his laptop and didn’t look up as Harry entered the cubicle.

“You find my guy yet?”

“Not yet.”

“How’s it looking?”

“Not very good. There are nine hundred eleven variations of Chill in the moniker files. And that’s just in California. So don’t hold your breath.”

“Is that total or is that just in the time frame I asked for?”

“The time frame doesn’t matter. Your guy from ’eighty-eight could easily have been put into the database in any year before or since. It would depend on whether he was arrested, was the subject of a field interview, or was a victim. There are a lot of possibilities. I have to look at all of them.”

Chu was speaking in a clipped tone. Bosch knew he was still angry about being shut out of the Irving investigation.

“All of that might be true but let’s prioritize by narrowing the focus to. . let’s say pre-’ninety-two. My hunch is that if he’s in the box, he went in before then.”

“Fine.”

Chu started typing. He still had not looked up or acknowledged Bosch with his eyes.

“When I came in, I saw that the lieutenant’s alone in her office. You could go talk to her about the transfer.”

“I want to get this done.”

Bosch was calling Chu’s bluff and they both knew it.

“Good.”

Bosch’s cell buzzed and he saw it was an 818 call — the Valley. As he answered, he left the cubicle and headed out to the hallway so he could talk privately. It was Hannah Stone calling from one of her work lines.

“I won’t be able to meet you till about eight because of some things here at work. Will that be all right?”