“I was just going to call you.”
“Really? Why?”
“I have a name for you.”
“Funny, I have a name for you. I matched your palm and you’re not going to like it.”
“Jonathan Gillespie.”
“What?”
“Jonathan Gillespie.”
“Who is that?”
“That’s not your match?”
“Not quite.”
Bosch sat back down at his desk. He pulled a pad over in front of him and got ready to write.
“Who did you come up with?”
“The palm print belonged to one of ours. Guy must have left it while at the crime scene. Sorry about that.”
“Who is it?”
“The name is Ronald Eckersly. He worked for us ’sixty-five to ’eighty-five, then he pulled the pin.”
Bosch almost didn’t hear anything else Larkin said.
“… shows that he was a patrol lieutenant upon retirement. You could go to personnel and get a current location if you need to talk to him. But it looks like he might have just screwed up and put his hand on the wall while he was at the scene. Back then they didn’t know anything about crime scene protocol and some of these guys would-hell, about twenty years ago I was dusting a homicide scene and one of the detectives who had been there all night started frying an egg in the dead guy’s kitchen. He said, ‘He ain’t gonna miss it and I’m goddamn starved.’ You believe that? So no matter how hard you drill into them not to touch-”
“Thanks, Larkin,” Bosch said. “I’ve got to go.”
Bosch hung up, grabbed the note off Rider’s desk and crumpled it in his hand. He took his cell phone off his belt and called Rider’s cell number. She answered right away.
“Where are you?” Bosch asked.
“Having a coffee.”
“You want to take a ride?”
“I’ve got the case'0egot the summary to finish. A ride where?”
“Ten Thousand Palms.”
“Harry, that’s not a ride. That’s a journey. That’s at least ninety minutes each way.”
“Get me a coffee for the road. I’ll be right down.”
He hung up before she could protest.
On the drive out Bosch told Rider about the moves he had made with the case and how the print had come back to his old partner. He then recounted the morning he and Eckersly had found the lady in the tub. Rider listened without interrupting, then she had only one question at the end.
“This is important, Harry,” she said. “You are dealing with your own memory and you know from case experience how faulty memories can be. We’re talking thirty-three years ago. Are you sure there wasn’t a moment when Eckersly could have put his hand on the wall?”
“Yeah, like he might’ve leaned against the wall and taken a leak while I didn’t notice.”
“I’m not talking about taking a leak. Could he have leaned against the wall when you found the body, like he got grossed out or sick and leaned against the wall for support?”
“No, Kiz. I was in that room the whole time he was. He said, ‘Let’s get out of here,’ and
“Thirty-three years is a long time, Harry.”
Bosch waited a moment before responding.
“I know this sounds sad and sick but your first DB is like your first love. You remember the details. Plus…”
He didn’t finish.
“Plus what?”
“Plus my mother was murdered when I was a kid. I think it’s why I became a cop. So finding that woman-my second day on the job-was sort of like finding my mother. I can’t explain it. But what I can tell you is that I remember being in that house like it was yesterday. And Eckersly never touched a thing in there, let alone put his hand on the wall over the toilet.”
Now she was silent for a long moment before responding.
“Okay, Harry.”
Ten Thousand Palms was on the outskirts of Joshua Tree. They made good time and pulled into the visitor parking space in front of the tiny police station shortly before one. They had worked out how they would handle Eckersly in the last half hour of the drive.
They went in and I rwent inasked a woman who was sitting behind a front counter if they could speak with Eckersly. They flashed the gold and told her they were from the Open-Unsolved Unit. The woman picked up a phone and communicated the information to someone on the other end. Before she hung up, a door behind her opened and there stood Ron Eckersly. He was thicker and his skin a dark and worn brown from the desert. He still had a full head of hair, which was cut short and silver. Bosch had no trouble recognizing him. But it didn’t appear that he recognized Bosch.
“Detectives, come on back,” he said.
He held the door and they walked into his office. He was wearing a blue blazer with a maroon tie over a white shirt. It did not appear to Bosch that he had a gun on his belt. Maybe in a little desert town a gun wasn’t needed.
The office was a small space with LAPD memorabilia and photographs on the wall behind the desk. Rider introduced herself and shook Eckersly’s hand and then Bosch did the same. There was a hesitation in Eckersly’s shake and then Bosch knew. Instinctively, he knew. He was holding the hand of June Wilkins’s killer.
“Harry Bosch,” Eckersly said. “You were one of my boots, right?”
“That’s right. I came on the job in ’seventy-two. We rode Wilshire patrol for nine months.”
“Imagine that, one of my boots coming back to see me.”
“Actually, we want to talk to you about a case from ’seventy-two,” Rider said.
As planned, she took the lead. They took seats and Bosch once again tried to determine if Eckersly was armed. There was no telltale bulge beneath the blazer.
Rider explained the case to Eckersly and reminded him that he and Bosch had been the patrol officers who discovered the body. She asked if he remembered the case at all.
Eckersly leaned back in his desk chair, his jacket falling to his sides and revealing no holster or weapon on his belt. He looked for an answer on the ceiling. Finding nothing, he leaned forward and shook his head.
“I’m drawing a blank, Detectives,” he said. “And I’m not sure why you would come all the way out here to ask an old patrol dog about a DB. My guess is we were in and out, and we cleared the way for the dicks. Isn’t that right, partner?”
He looked at Bosch, his last word a reminder that they had once protected each other’s back.
“Yes, we were in and out.”
“But we have information-newly discovered information-that you apparently had a relationship with the victim,” Rider said matter-of-factly. “And that this relationship was not brought to light during the initial investigation.”
Eckersly looked closely at her, wondering how to read the situation. Bosch knew this wase wnew thi the pivotal moment. If Eckersly were to make a mistake, it would be now.
“What information?” Eckersly asked.
“We’re not at liberty to discuss it, Chief,” Rider responded. “But if you have something to tell us, tell us now. It would be best for you to clear this up before we go down the road with it.”
Eckersly’s face cracked into a smile and he looked at Bosch.
“This is a joke, right? Bosch, you’re putting her up to this, right?”
Bosch shook his head.
“No joke,” Bosch said. “You’re in a spot here, Chief.”
Eckersly shook his head as if not comprehending the situation.
