“Of course,” he said. “That was pretty wonderful for me.”
“It was wonderful for me, too, but I didn’t mean that. I meant about what I told you. Before.”
“I’m not sure what you mean.”
“About Shawn. My son.”
This felt jagged and awkward. He wasn’t sure what she wanted.
“Well. . I don’t know, Hannah, what am I supposed to be thinking about?”
“Never mind, Harry. I need to go.”
“Wait, Hannah. Come on, you called me, remember? Don’t go and don’t get upset. Just tell me, what am I supposed to be thinking about with your son?”
Bosch felt something gripping his insides. He had to consider that for her the night before might have been some sort of means to a hopeful end that was about her son and not them. To Bosch, her son was lost. When Shawn was twenty years old he had drugged a girl and raped her — a sad and terrible story. He pleaded guilty and went to prison. That was five years ago and Hannah had dedicated her life since then to trying to understand where the impulse in him had come from. Was it genetic, was it nature, was it nurture? It was a form of prison in itself for Hannah, and Bosch had felt sympathy as she told him the ugly story.
But now he wasn’t sure what she wanted from him besides his sympathy. Was he supposed to say her son’s crime was not her fault? Or that her son wasn’t evil? Or was she hoping for some sort of concrete help in terms of her son’s incarceration? Bosch didn’t know because she hadn’t said.
“Nothing,” she said. “I’m sorry. I just don’t want it to ruin anything, that’s all.”
That eased things for him a small bit.
“Then don’t let it, Hannah. Just let things happen. We’ve only known each other a few days. We like to be with each other but maybe we moved too quickly. Let’s just let things happen and don’t bring this other stuff into it. Not yet.”
“But I have to. He’s my son. Do you have any idea what it’s like to live with what he did and to think about him up there?”
The grip inside tightened again and he understood that he had made a mistake with this woman. His loneliness and his own need for connection had led him down the wrong path. He had waited so long and now had chosen so wrong.
“Hannah,” he said. “I’m in the middle of stuff here. Can we talk about all of this later?”
“Whatever.”
It was said as an invective. She might as well have said Fuck you, Bosch. The message was the same. But he acted like he had not received it.
“Okay. I’ll call you as soon as I’m clear. Good-bye, Hannah.”
“Good-bye, Harry.”
Bosch disconnected and fought the urge to throw the phone out the car window. His thinking that Hannah Stone could be the one he brought into the life he shared with his daughter had been a fool’s dream. He had moved too quickly. He had dreamed too quickly.
He shoved the phone into his coat pocket and buried his thoughts about Hannah Stone and failed romance as deep as George Irving had just been put in the ground.
26
Bosch entered the empty cubicle and immediately saw the stack of large envelopes on Chu’s desk. He put his briefcase down on his own desk but then went over to Chu’s and spread the envelopes across his blotter. Chu had received the statements and other records from George Irving’s credit cards. Going back and checking all credit-card purchases was an important component of a thorough death investigation. Their findings would become part of the victim’s financial profile.
The bottom envelope was the thinnest and was from the crime lab. Bosch opened this one, wondering which case it was in regard to.
The envelope contained the report on the analysis of George Irving’s shirt. Forensic testing determined that the navy blue dress shirt contained blood and cellular material — skin — on the inside right shoulder panel. This was consistent with the crescent moon — shaped bruises and lacerations found on Irving’s shoulder during the autopsy.
Bosch sat down at Chu’s desk and studied the report and considered what it meant. He realized it could indicate at least two scenarios. One was that Irving was wearing the shirt when he was choked out and the injury to the skin on his shoulder occurred when the choker’s watch pushed the shirt against his skin. The second was that the shirt was put on after the wounds occurred and the blood and skin were transferred.
Two things led Bosch to discount the second scenario. The button found on the floor indicated there might have been a struggle while Irving was still wearing the shirt. And because Irving had plunged naked to his death, it seemed highly unlikely that the shirt was put on over the wound and then removed again.
Bosch zeroed in on the first scenario. It suggested that Irving was surprised from behind and locked into a choke hold. There was a struggle. The button was torn from the right sleeve and the choker moved into the shoulder creep maneuver to control the victim. The bruises and surface abrasions occurred despite the shirt.
Bosch thought about this for a few minutes and no matter which angle he took on it, it still led back to McQuillen. As he had said to Chu, it was time to bring McQuillen in.
Bosch moved over to his desk and started planning the takedown. He decided it would not be a felony arrest. He would seek McQuillen’s voluntary agreement to come downtown to the PAB and answer questions. If this effort was unsuccessful, then cuffs would come out and he would be arrested.
McQuillen was a former cop and this made him a dangerous arrest target. Almost all ex-cops owned guns and they all knew how to use them. Bosch would have Chu run a check on the ATF gun registry but he knew that such a check would not be conclusive. Cops picked up and seized guns on the street all the time. Not all of them were turned in to Property. An ATF backgrounding would only tell them what McQuillen legally owned.
Because of these concerns Bosch determined first and foremost that McQuillen would not be approached at home. That would put him too close to whatever known and unknown weapons he had. His car would also be a poor choice for the same reasons.
Bosch had already seen the inside of the B&W garage and dispatch office. This gave him a strategic edge. It would also be the least likely place for McQuillen to be armed. It would be one thing if he was driving a cab on the dark edges of Hollywood, but dispatching cabs there was not as dangerous.
The desk phone rang and the screen simply said LATIMES. Bosch was tempted to let it go to message but then thought better of it.
“Open-Unsolved.”
“Is Detective Bosch there?”
“Speaking.”
“Detective, this is Emily Gomez-Gonzmart across the street at the Los Angeles Times. I’m working on a story about the murder investigation of George Irving and I want to ask you a few questions.”
Bosch froze for a long moment. He had a sudden desire for a cigarette. He knew of the reporter. She was nicknamed “GoGo” because she relentlessly pursued the stories she was following.
“Detective?”
“Yes, sorry, I’m in the middle of something here. You called it a murder. What makes you think it is a murder investigation? It’s a death investigation, yes. But we have not called it a murder. We have not made that conclusion.”
Now she paused for a moment before answering.
“Well, my information is that it is a murder investigation and there is a suspect who will be arrested soon, if he has not already been taken into custody. This suspect is a former police officer with an ax to grind against both Councilman Irving and his son. That’s why I’m calling you, Detective. Can you confirm this and have you made an arrest in the case?”