Michael Connelly: Angels Flight

He pointed with his thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the crime scene in the train car. As he did this he glanced at Garwood but the captain was still looking down at the floor.

“No conflict of interest,” Irving said. “Correct?”

The three detectives nodded. Bosch had been sued often enough in his twenty-five years with the department, but somehow he had always avoided tangling with Elias. Still, he didn’t believe Irving’s explanation was complete. He knew that Edgar had already alluded to a reason for their choice, probably a reason more important than the fact that none of them had been sued by Elias. Bosch’s two partners were black. That might come in handy for Irving at some point. Bosch knew Irving’s desire that the department have only one face and one race – blue – would go out the window when he needed a black face for the cameras.

“I don’t want my people paraded in front of the media, Chief,” Bosch said. “If we’re on the case, we’re on the case to work it, not for a show.”

Irving stared at him with angry eyes.

“What did you call me?”

Bosch was momentarily taken aback.

“I called you Chief.”

“Oh, good. Because I was wondering if there was some confusion here over the line of command in this room. Is there, Detective?”

Bosch looked away and out the window again. He could feel his face turning red and it upset him to give himself away.

“No,” he said.

“Good,” Irving said without a trace of tension. “Then I am going to leave you with Captain Garwood. He will bring you up to speed on what has been accomplished so far. When he is done, we will talk about how we are going to set this case up.”

He turned to the door but Bosch stopped him.

“One more thing, Chief.”

Irving turned back to him. Bosch had recovered his composure now. He looked calmly at the deputy chief.

“You know we are going to be looking hard at cops on this. Lots of them. We’ll have to go through all of the lawyer’s cases, not just the Black Warrior thing. So I just need to know up front – we all need to – do you and the police chief want the chips to fall where they fall or…”

He didn’t finish and Irving said nothing.

“I want to protect my people,” Bosch said. “This kind of case… we just need to be clear about everything up front.”

Bosch was taking a gamble saying it in front of Garwood and the others. It would likely anger Irving again. But Bosch took the shot because he wanted Irving to answer him in front of Garwood. The captain was a powerful man in the department. Bosch wanted him to know that his team would be following the directives of the highest command, just in case the chips fell close to some of Garwood’s people.

Irving looked at him for a long moment before finally speaking.

“Your insolence is noted, Detective Bosch.”

“Yes, sir. But what’s the answer?”

“Let them fall, Detective. Two people are dead that should not be dead. It does not matter who they were. They should not be dead. Do your best work. Use all your skills. And let the chips fall.”

Bosch nodded once. Irving turned and glanced quickly at Garwood before leaving the room.

HARRY, you have a smoke?”

“Sorry, Cap, I’m trying to quit.”

“Me, too. I guess all that really means is that you borrow ’em rather than buy ’em.”

Garwood stepped away from the corner and blew out his breath. With his foot he moved a stack of boxes away from the wall and sat down on them. He looked old and tired to Bosch but then he had looked that way twelve years before when Bosch had gone to work for him. Garwood didn’t raise any particular feelings in Bosch. He had been the aloof sort of supervisor. Didn’t socialize with the squad after hours, didn’t spend much time out of his office and in the bullpen. At the time, Bosch thought maybe that was good. It didn’t engender a lot of loyalty from Garwood’s people, but it didn’t create any enmity either. Maybe that was how Garwood had lasted in the spot for so long.

“Well, it looks like we really got our tit in the wringer this time,” Garwood said. He then looked at Rider and added, “Excuse the saying, Detective.”

Bosch’s pager sounded and he quickly pulled it off his belt, disengaged the beep and looked at the number. It was not his own number as he had hoped it would be. He recognized it as the home number of Lieutenant Grace Billets. She probably wanted to know what was going on. If Irving had been as circumspect with her as he had been with Bosch on the phone, then she knew next to nothing.

“Important?” Garwood asked.

“I’ll take care of it later. You want to talk in here or should we go out to the train?”

“Let me tell you what we have first. Then it’s your scene to do with what you want.”

Garwood reached into the pocket of his coat, took out a softpack of Marlboros and began opening it.

“I thought you asked me for a smoke,” Bosch said.

“I did. This is my emergency pack. I’m not supposed to open it.”

It made little sense to Bosch. He watched as Garwood lit a cigarette and then offered the pack to Bosch. Harry shook his head. He put his hands in his pockets to make sure he wouldn’t take one.

“This going to bother you?” Garwood asked, holding up the cigarette, a taunting smile on his face.

“Not me, Cap. My lungs are probably already shot. But these guys…”

Rider and Edgar waved it off. They appeared as impatient as Bosch did in getting to the story.

“Okay, then,” Garwood finally said. “This is what we know. Last run of the night. Man named Elwood… Elwood… hold on a sec.”

He pulled a small pad from the same pocket he had replaced the cigarette package in and looked at some writing on the top page.

“Eldrige, yeah, Eldrige. Eldrige Peete. He was running the thing by himself – it only takes one person to run the whole operation – it’s all computer. He was about to close her down for the night. On Friday nights the last ride is at eleven. It was eleven. Before sending the top car down for the last ride he goes out, gets on it, closes and locks the door. Then he comes back in here, puts the command on the computer and sends it down.”

He referred to the pad again.

“These things have names. The one he sent down is called Sinai and the one he brought up was Olivet. He says they’re named after mountains in the Bible. It looked to him when Olivet got up here that the car was empty. So he goes out to lock it up – ’cause then he has to send them one more time and the computer stops them side by side in the middle of the track for overnight. Then he’s done and out of here.”

Bosch looked at Rider and made a signal as if writing on his palm. She nodded and took her own pad and a pen out of the bulky purse she carried. She started taking notes.

“Only Elwood, I mean, Eldrige, he comes out to lock up the car and he finds the two bodies onboard. He backs away, comes in here and calls the police. With me?”

“So far. What next?”

Bosch was already thinking of the questions he would have to ask Garwood and then probably Peete.

“So we’re covering for Central dicks and the call eventually comes to me. I send out four guys and they set up the scene.”

“They didn’t check the bodies for ID?”

“Not right away. But there was no ID anyway. They were going by the book. They talked to this Eldrige Peete and they went down the steps and did a search for casings and other than that held tight until the coroner’s people arrived and did their thing. Guy’s wallet and watch are missing. His briefcase, too, if he was carrying one. But they got an ID off a letter the stiff had in his pocket. Addressed to Howard Elias. Once they found that, my guys took a real good look at the stiff and could tell it was Elias. They then, of course, called me and I called Irving and he called the chief and then it was decided to call you.”