“I don’t know how to say it,” he said. “There’s just something there. A connection of some kind between them that is more than the name.”
He made a motion of waving away the thought.
“All right, then let’s move on,” Winston said. “Why now, Terry? If it is Bosch, why now? And why Gunn? He walked away from him six years ago.”
“It’s interesting that you say walked away from him and not justice.”
“I didn’t mean anything by it. You just like to take -”
“Why now? Who knows? But there was that re-encounter the night before in the drunk tank and before that there was the time in October and it goes further back. Whenever this guy ended up in the can Bosch was there.”
“But on that last night Gunn was too drunk to talk.”
“Says who?”
She nodded. They only had Bosch’s account of the drunk-tank encounter.
“All right, fine. But why Gunn? I mean, I don’t want to put a qualitative judgment on a murderer or his victims but, come on, the guy stabbed a prostitute in a Hollywood hot sheet hotel. We all know that some count more than others and this one couldn’t have counted for much. If you read the book, you saw – her own family didn’t even care about her.”
“Then there’s something missing, something else that we don’t know. Because Harry cared. I don’t think he’s the kind who ever counts one case, one person more important than another, anyway. But there’s something about Gunn we don’t know yet. There has to be – six years ago it was enough for Harry to shove his lieutenant through a window and take a suspension for it. It was enough for him to visit Gunn every time he got hooked up and put in a cell.”
McCaleb nodded to himself.
“We need to find the trigger. The stressor. The thing that forced the action now as opposed to a year ago, two years ago, whenever.”
Winston abruptly stood up.
“Would you stop saying ‘we’? And, you know, there is something you are conveniently missing here. Why would this man, this veteran cop and homicide detective, kill this guy and leave all of these clues leading back to himself? It makes no sense – not with Harry Bosch. He’d be too smart for that.”
“Only from this side of it. These things may only seem obvious now that we have discovered them. And you are forgetting the act of murder itself is evidence of aberrant thinking, of a dissembling personality. If Harry Bosch has veered off the path and crashed into the ditch – into the abyss – then we can’t assume anything about his thinking or planning of a murder. His leaving of these markers could be symptomatic.”
She waved off his explanation.
“That’s the Quantico dance there. Too much mumbo jumbo.”
Winston picked the copy of The Garden of Earthly Delights off the table and studied it.
“I talked to Harry about this case two weeks ago,” she said. “You talked to him yesterday. He wasn’t exactly climbing the walls and foaming at the mouth. And look at this trial he’s riding now. He’s cool, calm and has his shit together. Know what some of the guys in the office call him, the ones who know him? The Marlboro Man.”
“Yeah, well, he stopped smoking. And maybe this Storey case was the stressor. A lot of pressure. It’s gotta come out someplace.”
McCaleb could tell she wasn’t listening. Her eyes had caught on something in the painting. She dropped the sheet and picked up the detail of the dark owl embraced by the nude man.
“Let me ask you something,” she said. “If our guy sent the owl directly from that warehouse to our victim, then how the fuck did it get this nice custom paint job?”
McCaleb nodded.
“Good question. He must’ve painted it right there in the apartment. Maybe while watching Gunn try to stay alive.”
“There was no paint like this found in the apartment. And we checked the building’s dumpster, too. I saw no paint.”
“He took it with him, got rid of it somewhere else.”
“Or maybe plans to use it again on the next one.”
She paused and thought for a long moment. McCaleb waited.
“So what do we do?” she finally asked.
“So it’s ‘we’ now?”
“For now. I changed my mind. I can’t take this inside. Too dangerous. If it’s wrong I could kiss everything good-bye.”
McCaleb nodded.
“Do you and your partner have other cases?”
“We’ve got three open files, including this one.”
“Well, put him on one of the others while you work this one – with me. We work on Bosch until we have something solid – one way or the other – that you can take in and make official.”
“And what do I do, call up Harry Bosch and tell him I need to talk to him because he’s a suspect in a murder?”
“I’ll take Bosch first. It will be less obvious if I make the first run. Let me get a feel for him and, who knows, maybe my current instincts will be wrong. Or maybe I’ll find the trigger.”
“That’s easier said than done. We move too close and he’ll know. I don’t want this blowing up in our faces – my face, in particular.”
“That’s where I can be an advantage.”
“Yeah? How so?”
“I’m not a cop. I’ll be able to get closer to him. I need to get inside his house, see how he lives. Meantime, you -”
“Wait a minute. You’re not talking about breaking into his house. I can’t be a party to that.”
“No, nothing illegal.”
“Then how are you going to get in?”
“Knock on the door.”
“Good luck. What were you going to say? Meantime, I do what?”
“You work the outside line, the obvious stuff. Trace down the money order for the owl. Find out more about Gunn and the murder six years ago. Find out about the incident between Harry and his old lieutenant – and find out about the lieutenant. Harry said the guy went out one night and ended up dead in a tunnel.”
“Damn, I remember that. That was related to Gunn?”
“I don’t know. But Bosch made some kind of elliptical reference to it yesterday.”
“I can pull stuff on it and I can ask questions about the other stuff. But any one of these moves could get back to Bosch.”
McCaleb nodded. He thought it was a risk that had to be taken.
“You know anybody who knows him?” he said.
She shook her head in annoyance.
“Look, don’t you remember? Cops are paranoid people. The minute I ask one question about Harry Bosch, people are going to know what we are doing.”
“Not necessarily. Use the Storey case. It’s high profile. Maybe you’ve been watching the guy on TV and he doesn’t look so good. ‘Is he all right? What’s going on with him?’ Like that. Make it like you’re gossiping.”
She didn’t look mollified. She stepped over to the sliding door and looked out across the marina. She leaned her forehead against the glass.
“I know his former partner,” she said. “There’s an informal group of women who get together once a month. We all work homicide from all the local departments. About a dozen of us. Harry’s old partner Kiz Rider just got moved from Hollywood to Robbery-Homicide. The big time. But I think they were close. He was kind of a mentor. I might be able to hit on her. If I use a little finesse.”
McCaleb nodded and thought of something.
“Harry told me he was divorced. I don’t know how long ago but you could ask Rider about him like, you know, you’re interested and what’s he like, that sort of thing. You ask like that and she might give you the real lowdown.”
Winston looked away from the slider and back at McCaleb.
“Yeah, that will make us good friends when she finds out it was all bullshit and I was setting up on her ex-partner – her mentor.”
“If she’s a good cop she’ll understand. You had to either clear him or bag him and either way you wanted to do it as quietly as possible.”
Winston looked back out the door.
“I’m going to need deniability on this.”