“Hold on a second.”
Bosch went back inside the house and over to the table. He looked through the spread of documents until he found the American Express report. It was a printout of all charges Irving had made on the card going back three years. It was twenty-two pages long and Bosch had looked at every page less than an hour earlier and seen nothing that grabbed his attention.
“Okay, I’ve got the AmEx here. How are you looking at it?”
“I have it online, Harry. On the search warrant I always ask for printed statements and digital account access. But what I’m looking at is not on your printout. This charge was posted to the account yesterday and by then the printout was already in the mail to us.”
“You have the live account online.”
“Right. The last charge you have on the printout is the hotel room at the Chateau, right?”
“Yeah, right here.”
“Okay, well, American Airlines posted a charge yesterday for three hundred nine dollars.”
“Okay.”
“So I was going back and looking at everything again and I went online to look at AmEx again. I still have digital access. I saw that a new billing had come through yesterday from American.”
“So Chad’s using his father’s card? Maybe he was given a duplicate card.”
“No, I thought maybe that was the case at first but it’s not. I called AmEx security to follow up on the warrant. AmEx just took three days to post the charge on his record but George Irving made the purchase online Sunday afternoon — about twelve hours before he took the high dive. I got the record locator from AmEx and went on American’s website. It was a round-trip ticket, SFO to LAX and back. Fly down Monday afternoon at four. Back today at two, except that return got changed to next Sunday.”
It was good work but Bosch wasn’t going to compliment Chu just yet.
“But don’t they send out e-mail confirmations for online purchases? We looked at Irving’s e-mail. There was nothing from American.”
“I fly American and I buy the tickets online. You only get the e-mail confirmation if you click the box. You can also have it sent to someone else. Irving could have had the confirmation and itinerary sent directly to his son since he was the one flying.”
Bosch had to think about this. It was a significant new piece of information. Irving had bought his son a ticket to L.A. before his death. It could have been a simple plan to bring his son home for a visit but it also could have meant Irving knew what he was going to do and wanted to insure that his kid could get home to be with family. It was another piece that fit with McQuillen’s story. And with Robert Mason’s.
“I think it means he killed himself,” Chu said. “He knew that he was going to jump that night and he bought his kid a ticket so he could come down to be with his mother. It also explains the call. He called the kid that evening to tell him about the ticket.”
Bosch didn’t respond. His phone started beeping. Mason’s call was coming in.
“I did good, didn’t I, Harry?” Chu said. “I told you I’d make it up to you.”
“It was good work, but it doesn’t make up for anything,” Bosch said.
Bosch noticed his daughter look up from her book. She had heard what he’d said.
“Look, Harry, I like my job,” Chu said. “I don’t want—”
Bosch cut him off.
“I’ve got another call coming in. I’ve got to take it.”
He disconnected and switched to the other call. It was Mason responding to the dispatch from the com center.
“The honeymoon suite you rented for the Irvings. It was at the Chateau Marmont, wasn’t it?”
Mason was quiet for a long moment before he responded.
“So I guess Deborah and the councilman didn’t mention that, did they?”
“No, they didn’t. That’s why you knew he jumped. The suite. That was the suite.”
“Yeah. I figured things sort of all went wrong for him and he went up there.”
Bosch nodded. More to himself than to Mason.
“Okay, Mason, thanks for the call.”
Bosch hung up. He put the phone down on the table and looked at his daughter on the couch, reading. She seemed to feel his gaze and looked up at him from the words of Stephen King.
“Everything okay?” she asked.
“No,” he said. “Not really.”
30
It was eight thirty by the time Bosch pulled up in front of the home where George Irving had lived. The lights were still on inside but the garage doors were closed and there were no cars in the driveway. Bosch watched for a few minutes and saw no activity behind any of the lighted windows. If Deborah Irving and her son were inside, they weren’t showing it.
Bosch pulled his phone and, as agreed, texted his daughter. He had left her at home alone, telling her he would not be gone more than two hours and that he would check on her upon arrival at and departure from his destination.
She responded quickly.
All good. Finished homework, watching Castle downloads.
Bosch pocketed the phone and got out of the car. He had to knock twice, and when the door opened, it was Deborah Irving by herself.
“Detective Bosch?”
“Sorry to intrude so late, Mrs. Irving. I need to speak with you.”
“Can it wait until tomorrow?”
“I’m afraid not, ma’am.”
“Of course. Come in.”
She opened up and led him into the room and to the couch where he had sat before at the start of the case.
“I saw you at the funeral today,” she said. “Chad said he spoke to you also.”
“Yes. Is Chad still here?”
“He’s staying through the weekend but he’s not home right now. He went to see an old girlfriend. It’s a very difficult time for him, as you can imagine.”
“Yes, I understand.”
“Can I get you a coffee? We have a Nespresso.”
Bosch didn’t know what that meant but shook his head.
“I’m fine, Mrs. Irving.”
“Please call me Deborah.”
“Deborah.”
“Are you here to tell me you will be making an arrest in the case soon?”
“Uh, no, I’m not. I’m here to tell you there’s not going to be an arrest.”
She looked surprised.
“Dad — uh, Councilman Irving — told me there was a suspect. That it had to do with one of the competitors George was dealing with.”
“No, that was how it was looking because I went down the wrong path.”
He checked her reaction. No giveaways. She still looked genuinely surprised.
“You sent me down the wrong path,” he said. “You and the councilman and even Chad held back on me. I didn’t have what I needed and I went stumbling off after a murderer when there never was a murderer.”
Now she was beginning to look indignant.
“What do you mean? Dad told me there was evidence of assault and that George was choked. He said it was most likely a cop. Don’t tell me you are covering up for the cop who did this.”
“That’s not the case, Deborah, and I think you know it. That day I came here, the councilman told you what to say, what to leave in and what to leave out.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Like that the room your husband rented was the room you two shared on the night you got married. Like that your son was already scheduled to come home Monday — before your husband even went out that night.”
He let that sink in for a long moment, letting her come to realize what he had and what he knew.
“Chad was coming home because you two had something to tell him, right?”
“This is ridiculous!”
“Is it? Maybe I should talk to Chad first, ask him what he was told when he was sent the airline ticket Sunday afternoon.”