Michael Connelly - Angels Flight

Rider, who was wearing gloves, lifted the camera up to show him.

“It’s digital. You take your movie, plug the camera into this dock here and download what you want. Then you upload it on your computer and put it out on the pedo net. All from the privacy of your home. It’s literally as easy as – ”

She didn’t finish. Bosch turned to see what the distraction was and saw Deputy Chief Irving standing in the doorway of the room. Behind him stood Lindell and Irving’s adjutant, Lieutenant Tulin. Irving moved into the office and handed his wet raincoat to Tulin. He told him to take it and to wait in another room of the house.

“Which room, Chief?”

“Any room.”

Irivng closed the door after Tulin left. That left him, Lindell and Bosch’s team in the office. Bosch had an idea what was coming. The fixer was here now. The investigation was about to go through the spin cycle where decisions and public pronouncements would be made based on what best served the department, not the truth. Bosch folded his arms and waited.

“I want to finish this up now,” Irving said. “Take what you have found and clear out.”

“Chief,” Rider said, “we still have a lot of the house to cover.”

“I do not care. I want the bodies removed and then I want the police removed.”

“Sir,” she persisted, “we still haven’t found the weapon. We need that weapon to – ”

“And you are not going to find it.”

Irving stepped further into the room. He looked around and when his eyes finally came to Bosch’s face they stopped.

“I made a mistake listening to you. I hope the city does not have to pay for it.”

Bosch paused a moment before responding. Irving never took his eyes off him.

“Chief, I know that you are thinking in… political terms about this. But we have to continue our searches of this house and other locations related to the Kincaids. We need to find the weapon in order to prove that – ”

“I just told you, you are not going to find the weapon. Not here or anywhere else related to the Kincaids. All this was, Detective, was a diversion. A diversion that caused three deaths.”

Bosch didn’t know what was going on but he felt defensive. He gestured toward the equipment on the desk.

“I wouldn’t call this a diversion. Kincaid was involved in a major pedophile ring and we – ”

“Your assignment was Angels Flight. I obviously gave you people too much latitude and now here we are.”

“This is Angels Flight. That’s why we need the weapon. It will tie it all – ”

“Damn it, man, we have the weapon! We have had it for twenty-four hours! We had the killer as well. HAD! We let him go and now we will never get him back.”

Bosch could only stare at him. Irving’s face had turned the deep red of anger.

“The ballistics analysis was completed less than an hour ago,” Irving said. “The three slugs taken from the body of Howard Elias were matched unequivocally to bullets test-fired in the firearms lab from Detective Francis Sheehan’s nine-millimeter Smith and Wesson pistol. Detective Sheehan killed those people on that train. End of story. There are those of us who believed in that possibility but were talked out of it. The possibility is now fact but Detective Sheehan is long gone.”

Bosch was speechless and had to work hard to keep his jaw from dropping open.

“You,” he managed to say. “You’re doing this for the old man. For Kincaid. You are – ”

Rider grabbed Bosch by the arm to try to stop him from committing career suicide. He shrugged off her grip and pointed in the direction of the living room where the bodies were.

“-selling out one of your own to protect that. How can you do that? How can you make that kind of a deal with them? And with yourself?”

“You are WRONG!” Irving yelled back at him. Then, quietly, he said, “You are wrong and I could crush you for saying what you just said.”

Bosch said nothing. He continued to hold the deputy chief’s stare.

“This city expects justice for Howard Elias,” Irving said. “And for the woman killed with him. You took that away, Detective Bosch. You allowed Sheehan a coward’s way out. You took justice away from the people and they are not going to be happy about that. Heaven help us all for that.”

THE plan was to hold the press conference quickly, while the rain was still falling and could be used as a tool to keep people – angry people – off the streets. The entire investigative team was assembled and lined along the wall at the rear of the stage. The chief of police and the FBI’s Gilbert Spencer were to lead the briefing and answer all questions. This was standard operating procedure in highly sensitive situations. The chief and Spencer knew little more than what was on the press release. Therefore, questions about the details of the investigation could be easily and honestly deflected with the I am not aware of that or Not to my knowledge sort of answer.

O’Rourke, from press relations, did the warm-up, telling the mob of reporters to act responsibly and that the briefing would be short, with further information furnished in the days to come. He then introduced the chief of police, who took a spot behind the microphones and read from a carefully prepared statement.

“During my short tenure as chief of police I have had the responsibility of presiding over the funeral of police officers who have fallen in the line of duty. I have held the hands of mothers who have lost their children to the senseless violence of this city. But my heart has never been heavier than right now. I have to announce to the people of this great city that we know who killed Howard Elias and Catalina Perez. And it is with deep, deep regret that I report that it was a member of this department. Earlier today ballistics tests and analysis matched the bullets that killed Howard Elias and Catalina Perez to the service weapon used by Detective Francis Sheehan of the Robbery-Homicide Division.”

Bosch looked out across the sea of reporters’ faces and saw shock on many of them. The news gave even them pause, for they knew the consequences. The news was the match, they the gasoline. The rain probably wouldn’t be enough to put out this fire.

A couple of reporters, probably wire service men, pushed through the standing-room-only crowd and went out the door to be the first to spread the word. The police chief pressed on.

“As many of you know, Sheehan was one of several officers being sued by Howard Elias on behalf of Michael Harris. The investigators on this case believe Sheehan became overwrought with emotions relating to this case and the dissolution of his marriage in recent months. He may have become unbalanced. We may never know because Detective Sheehan took his own life last night, as he understood that it was only a matter of time before he was revealed as the killer. As a police chief, you hope never to have to make a statement such as this. But this department hides nothing from its citizens. The bad must be aired so that we can fully celebrate the good. I know the eight thousand good people of this department join me in apologizing to the families of these two victims as well as to every citizen in this city. And we ask that the good citizens in return react responsibly and calmly to this truly horrible turn of events. Now, I have other announcements but if there are questions relating specifically to this investigation I can take a few at this time.”

Immediately there was a chorus of unintelligible shouts and the chief simply pointed to one of the reporters in the front center. Bosch didn’t recognize him.

“How and where did Sheehan kill himself?”

“He was at a friend’s home last night. He shot himself. His service weapon had been confiscated for the ballistics exam. He used another weapon, the source of which is still under investigation. It was the investigators’ belief that he did not have a weapon at his disposal. They obviously were wrong.”