The Drop (31 page)

The boardroom looked like it belonged in a downtown law firm. Long polished table, glass wall of views across the civic center. Seated at the head of the table was the chief of police and to his right was Kiz Rider. The three seats going down one side of the table were taken by Councilman Irvin Irving and two members of his staff.

Across from them sat Lieutenant Duvall, with her back to the city view, and she signaled Bosch and Chu to the seats next to her. Eight people in a meeting about one suicide, Bosch noted. And nobody in the entire building who gave a shit about Lily Price being dead for twenty years or Chilton Hardy being free for just as long.

The chief did the talking first.

“All right, everybody’s here. I’m sure everybody’s seen the
Times
today or read it online. I think everybody is a bit surprised by the public turn this case has taken and—”

“More than surprised,” Irving cut in. “I want to know why the
L.A. goddamn Times
had this information before I did. Before my son’s family did.”

He stabbed a finger down on the table to hammer home his outrage. Luckily Bosch was seated on a swivel chair. This allowed him to calmly pivot and look at the faces across from him and at the head of the table. He said nothing in response, waiting for the power in the room to tell him to speak. That power was not Irvin Irving, no matter how hard he hit the table with his stubby finger.

“Detective Bosch,” the chief finally said. “Tell us what you know about this.”

Bosch nodded and swiveled back so that he was directly facing Irving.

“First of all, I don’t know anything about the story in the paper. It didn’t come from me but it doesn’t surprise me. This investigation has been leaking like a sieve since day one. Whether it was coming out of the OCP or the city council staff or RHD doesn’t matter, the story is out there and it’s accurate. And I want to correct one thing the city councilman said. The victim’s immediate family was informed of our conclusions. The victim’s wife, in fact, provided the information that was most important to my partner and me in calling the death a suicide.”

“Deborah?” Irving said. “She told you nothing.”

“On the first day she told us nothing. That is correct. It was during a subsequent interview that she was more forthcoming about the details of her marriage and her husband’s life and work.”

Irving leaned back, dragging a balled fist on the table.

“I was informed by this office just yesterday that this was a homicide investigation, that there was evidence of assault on my son’s body prior to the fatal impact and that it was likely that there was a former or current police officer involved. Now today I pick up the paper and read something completely different. I read that it’s a suicide. You know what this is? This is a payback. And it’s a cover-up and I will formally petition the council for an independent review of your so-called investigation and I will ask the district attorney—whoever that may be after next month’s election—to also review the case and its handling.”

“Irv,” the chief said. “You asked for Detective Bosch to be put on the case. You said let the chips fall and now you don’t like how they have fallen. So you want to investigate how it was investigated?”

The chief went back long enough in the department to call the councilman by his first name. No one else in the room would even dare.

“I chose him because I thought he had the integrity not to be swayed from the truth but what obviously has—”

“Harry Bosch has more integrity than anybody I’ve ever met. Anybody in this room.”

It was Chu and the whole room looked at him, shocked by his outburst. Even Bosch was taken aback.

“We’re not going to get into personal attacks here,” the chief said. “We first want to—”

“If there is an investigation of the investigation,” Bosch said, daring to cut the chief off, “it will most likely lead to your indictment, Councilman.”

That stunned the group. But Irving recovered quickly.

“How dare you!” he said, his eyes full of growing rage. “How dare you say such a thing about me in front of other people. I will have your badge for this! I have served this city for nearly fifty years and not once has anyone accused me of any impropriety. I am less than a month from being reelected to my seat for the fourth time and you won’t stop me or the will of the people who want me to represent them.”

A silence followed, during which one of Irving’s aides opened a leather folder with a legal pad inside. He wrote something down on the pad and Bosch half-imagined it was
Take Bosch’s badge
.

“Detective Bosch,” Rider said. “Why don’t you explain your statement?”

It was said with a tone of shock and maybe even outrage, as if she were joining the defense of Irving’s reputation. But Bosch knew that she was giving him the entrée he needed to say what he wanted.

“George Irving billed himself as a lobbyist, but he wasn’t really much more than a fixer and a bagman. He sold influence. He used his own connections as a former cop and assistant city attorney but his most notable connection was to his father, the city councilman. You wanted something? He could get it to his father. You wanted a concrete supply contract or a taxi franchise, George was the man to see because he could get it done.”

Bosch looked directly at Irving when he mentioned the taxi franchise. He saw a slight tremor in one eyelid and took it as a tell. He wasn’t saying anything the old man didn’t already know.

“This is outrageous!” Irving bellowed. “I want this stopped! This man is using a long-held grudge to tarnish what I have worked for all my life.”

Bosch stopped and waited. He knew this was the moment when the police chief would choose sides. It was going to be him or Irving.

“I think we need to hear what Detective Bosch has to say,” the chief said.

He shared his own hard stare with Irving, and Bosch knew that the chief was taking a major gamble. He was positioning himself against a powerful force in city government. He was banking on Bosch, and Harry knew he had Kiz Rider to thank for that.

“Go ahead, Detective,” the chief said.

Bosch leaned forward so he could look directly down the table at the chief.

“A couple months ago George Irving parted ways with his closest friend. A cop he had known since the police academy. The friendship ended when the cop realized George and his father had been using him without his knowledge to help swing a lucrative taxi franchise toward one of George’s clients. The cop was asked directly by the councilman to start hitting the existing franchise holder with DUI spot checks, knowing that a file full of such stops or arrests would damage their efforts to retain the franchise.”

Irving leaned across the table and pointed a finger at Bosch.

“This is where you are way off base,” he said. “I know who you are talking about and that was a request made in response to a complaint to my office. It was a request passed on in a social setting, nothing more. In fact, it was my grandson’s graduation party.”

Bosch nodded.

“Yes, a party that occurred two weeks after your son signed a one-hundred-thousand-dollar service contract with Regent Taxi, which would later announce plans to seek the city franchise currently being held by the company you complained about. I’m just guessing but I think a grand jury would find the coincidence of that hard to believe. I am sure your office would be able to provide the name of the citizen who made the complaint and she and her story would be vetted.”

Bosch pointedly looked at the aide with the legal pad.

“You might want to write that down.”

He turned his attention back to the head of the table.

“The officer in question learned that he was being used by the Irvings and confronted George Irving. Their friendship ended there. In the course of four weeks George lost three of the most important people in his life. His friend exposed him as a user if not a criminal, his only child left his home for college and life after, and last week his wife of twenty years told him she was leaving. She had stayed in the marriage until their son was gone, and now she, too, was finished.”

Irving reacted as if slapped in the face. He clearly knew nothing about the implosion of the marriage.

“George tried for a week to talk Deborah out of her decision and to hang on to the one person he had left,” Bosch continued. “To no avail. On Sunday—twelve hours before his death—he bought his son an airplane ticket to come home the next day. The plan was to tell the boy of the split. But instead, that night George checked into the Chateau Marmont with no luggage. When he was told suite seventy-nine was available he took it because that was the suite he and Deborah shared on their honeymoon.

“He spent about five hours in that room. Our information is that he was drinking heavily—an entire twelve-ounce bottle of whiskey. He was visited by a former cop named Mark McQuillen who knew by happenstance that he was in the hotel. McQuillen had been run out of the police department in a political witch hunt headed by Deputy Chief Irving twenty-five years ago. Now he was part owner of the taxi franchise George Irving was trying to destroy. He confronted George in the room and, yes, assaulted him. But he didn’t throw him from that balcony. He was in an all-night restaurant three blocks away when George jumped. We have confirmed the alibi and I have come to no other conclusion about this case. George Irving jumped.”

Bosch leaned back in his chair, finished with his report. There was no immediate response from anyone at the table. It took Irving a few moments to look at all the angles in the story and come up with something.

“McQuillen should be placed under arrest. This was obviously a carefully planned crime. I was correct when I said it was a payback. McQuillen perceived that I took his career. He took my son’s life.”

“McQuillen is on video in that restaurant from two till six,” Bosch said. “His alibi holds up. He was with your son at least two hours before his death. But he was not in the hotel when your son jumped.”

“And there’s the airline ticket,” Chu added. “Chad Irving was already flying down Monday. It wasn’t because his father had died, as the family suggested to us Monday. He had the ticket before, and there is no way McQuillen could have made that play.”

Bosch glanced at his partner. Chu had disobeyed Bosch’s order to maintain silence twice now. But both times it had been to great effect.

“Councilman Irving, I think we’ve heard enough for now,” the chief said. “Detectives Bosch and Chu, I want the full summary of the investigation on my desk before two o’clock today. I’ll review it and then I’ll hold a press conference. I plan to keep it brief and keep the details of the investigation brief. Councilman, you are invited to join me if you like, but I know that this is a very personal matter and you may want it to close up and simply go away. I’ll expect to hear from your office if you are coming.”

The chief nodded once and waited a split second for any reply. There was none, so he stood up. The meeting was over and so was the case. Irving knew he could press it and call for reviews and re-investigations but that path would be fraught with political peril.

Bosch had him pegged as a pragmatist who would let this one go. The question was, Would the police chief? Bosch had delivered the elements of a crime of political corruption. It would be difficult to pursue, particularly with a key player dead. And it was unknown whether they could get anything by leaning on the people at Regent Taxi. Would the chief follow up or would he hold it as an ace in a card game played on a level Bosch knew nothing about?

Either way, Bosch was pretty sure he had just delivered to the chief the means of turning a powerful anti-police voice in city government toward the positive. If he worked it right, he might even be able to get the overtime budget funded again. Meantime, Bosch was satisfied that he had completed his job. An old nemesis now had renewed enmity toward him but that was of no consequence. Bosch would never be able to live in a world without enemies. It came with the turf.

Everyone stood to leave the meeting, which was going to present an awkward situation when Irving and Bosch went out and waited for the elevator together. Rider saved Harry from it by inviting him into her office, along with Chu.

As the Irving entourage left the suite of offices, Bosch and Chu followed Rider into her space.

“Can I get you men something?” she asked. “I guess the time to have asked was at the start of the meeting.”

“I’m good,” Bosch said.

“Same here,” Chu said.

Rider appraised Chu. She had no idea about Chu’s traitorous activities.

“That was good work, gentlemen,” she said. “And Detective Chu, I admire your willingness to stand up in there for your partner and your case. Well done.”

“Thank you, Lieutenant.”

“Now, do you mind stepping out into the waiting area? I have some things to discuss with Detective Bosch relating to his DROP date.”

“No problem. Harry, I’ll be out here.”

Chu left and Rider closed the door. She and Bosch were left looking at each other for a long moment. She then slowly broke into a smile and shook her head.

“You must’ve been lovin’ that in there,” she said. “Seeing Irving have to shut down or be put down like the dog he is.”

Bosch shook his head.

“Not really. I don’t care about him anymore. I still don’t get it, though. Why did he really want me on the case?”

“I think it was exactly what he said. He knew you would be relentless and he needed to know if somebody went through his son to get to him. The only thing is, he didn’t think you’d get to the place you got to.”

Bosch nodded.

“Maybe.”

“Now, the chief didn’t show it in front of Irving, but you just gave him the golden ticket. And the good news is, he is going to be happy to reward you. I was thinking I’d start by getting your DROP moved up to the whole five years. How would that be, Harry?”

She smiled, anticipating that Bosch would be delighted by the additional twenty-one months on the job.

“Let me think about that,” he said.

“You sure? You might want to strike while the iron’s hot.”