He turned without waiting for a reply and headed toward the door with Howard Elias’s name on it. He heard nothing else from Chainey or Button.
When he walked into the office he found Janis Langwiser sitting behind the secretary’s desk, looking through a file. Next to the desk there were three cardboard boxes full of files that weren’t there before. Langwiser looked up.
“Detective Bosch.”
“Hey. These boxes for me?”
She nodded.
“The first batch. And, hey, that wasn’t very nice what you did before.”
“What?”
“Telling me my car was being towed. That was a lie, wasn’t it?”
Bosch had completely forgotten.
“Uh, no, not really,” he said. “You were in a tow-away zone. They would’ve gotten you.”
He smiled when he knew she knew it was a bullshit cover-up. His face started turning red.
“Look, I had to talk to Inspector Entrenkin alone. I’m sorry.”
Before she could say anything, Carla Entrenkin looked in from the room next door. She, too, was holding a file in her hand. Bosch pointed to the three boxes on the floor.
“Looks like you’re making some progress.”
“I hope so. Can I talk to you for a moment in here?”
“Sure. But first, did Channel Four come in here and try to talk to you two?”
“They did,” Langwiser said. “And Channel Nine was here before them.”
“Did you talk to them?”
Langwiser’s eyes darted momentarily toward Entrenkin and then down at the floor. She said nothing.
“I gave a brief statement,” Entrenkin said. “Something innocuous, just explaining my role. Can we talk in here?”
She stepped back from the doorway and Bosch entered the file room. There was another cardboard box on the desk that was half full of files. Entrenkin closed the door after Bosch entered. She then threw the file she was holding on the clerk’s desk, folded her arms and put a stern expression on her face.
“What is it?” Bosch asked.
“Tom Chainey just told me that it was announced at the press conference that How – uh, Mr. Elias had left his wallet and watch in his office, in his desk. And I thought that when you people were asked to leave this morning it was clear that – ”
“I’m sorry. I forgot.”
Bosch put his briefcase down on the desk and opened it. He lifted out the evidence bags containing the wallet and watch.
“I had already bagged them and put them in my case before you came in this morning. I forgot about it and left with them. You want me to put it all back where I found it?”
“No. I just wanted an explanation. And I’m not sure I believe the one you just offered.”
There was a long silence while they stared at each other.
“Was that all you wanted to talk to me about?” Bosch finally asked.
She turned back to the desk and the file she had been looking through.
“I thought our relationship would be better than this.”
“Look,” Bosch said as he closed the briefcase. “You’ve got your secrets. You’ve got to give me mine. The bottom line is Howard Elias wasn’t robbed. So we move on from there. Okay?”
“If you are telling me that there were people involved in this investigation who were attempting to tamper with evidence, then – ”
“I’m not telling you anything.”
He saw anger flare in her eyes.
“They shouldn’t be a part of this department. You know that.”
“That’s another battle for another day. I’ve got more import – ”
“You know there are some people who might think there is nothing more important than a police department in which there is no question about the integrity of its members.”
“Sounds like you’re giving a press conference, Inspector. I’m going to take those files now. I’ll be back for the next batch later.”
He started to turn back to the front room.
“I just thought you were different, that’s all,” she said.
He turned back to her.
“You don’t know if I’m different because you don’t know the first thing about me. I’ll talk to you later.”
“There’s something else missing.”
Bosch stopped and looked back at her.
“What?”
“Howard Elias was a consummate note taker. He kept a spiral notebook on his desk or with him all the time. His last notebook is missing. You know where that is?”
Bosch came back to the desk and reopened his briefcase. He took the notebook out and tossed it down.
“You won’t believe me but I had already put that in my briefcase when you came in and kicked us out.”
“Matter of fact, I do believe you. Did you read it?”
“Parts of it. Also before you showed up.”
She looked at him for a long moment.
“I’ll look through it and if it is okay you will have it back later today. Thank you for returning it.”
“You’re welcome.”
By the time Bosch got to Philippe’s the Original, the others were already there and eating. They had one of the long tables in the back room and were by themselves. He decided to take care of business before waiting in one of the lines at the counter to order.
“How’d it go?” Rider asked as he stepped over the bench and sat next to her.
“Well, I think I definitely was a little too pale for Irving’s liking.”
“Well, fuck him,” Edgar said. “I didn’t sign up for this shit.”
“Me, too,” Rider said.
“What are you talking about?” Chastain asked.
“Race relations,” Rider said. “Typical you can’t figure that out.”
“Hey, I – ”
“Never mind,” Bosch interjected. “Let’s talk about the case, okay? You first, Chastain. Did you finish the apartment building?”
“Yeah, we finished. Nothing.”
“Except we found out about the woman,” Fuentes said.
“Oh, yeah, right.”
“What woman?”
“The other victim. Catalina Perez. Hold a second.”
Chastain reached down to the bench next to him and came up with a legal tablet. He flipped to the second page and looked at the notes.
“Apartment nine-oh-nine. Perez was the cleaning woman. Came every Friday night. So that’s where she was coming from.”
“But she was going up,” Bosch said. “She didn’t work till eleven?”
“No, this is the deal. She works six to ten-thirty, then takes Angels Flight down to the bus stop, catches the bus and goes home. Only on the way down she must’ve looked in her purse and noticed her notebook, where she keeps her schedule and phone numbers, is missing. She took it out in the apartment last night because her employer, a Mr. D. H. Reilly, changed his phone number and gave her the new one. Only she left the notebook on his kitchen table. She had to go back for it so she’d know her schedule. This lady…”
He reached to the bench again and pulled up the notebook. It was in a plastic evidence bag.
“… I mean, I looked at the schedule. She worked her tail off. She’s got gigs every day and a lot of nights. This Reilly guy said Friday nights was the only regular night he could get her for. She did a good job…”
“So she was going back up to get her book when she got popped,” Edgar said.
“Looks that way.”
“The old I-O-I-A,” Rider said in a singsong way that was not mirthful in any way.
“What’s that?” Chastain asked.
“Nothing.”
They were all silent for a long moment. Bosch was thinking about how leaving that notebook behind had cost Catalina Perez her life. He knew that what Rider had said referred to the inequities of it all – the phrase she began using after a year on the homicide squad to sum up the bad breaks, coincidences and twists of fate that often left people dead.
“Okay, good,” Bosch finally said. “We now know what everybody was doing on that train. The rest of the building was clean?”
“Nobody heard a thing, nobody saw a thing,” Chastain said.