Angle of Investigation: Three Harry Bosch Stories

Bosch pulled out the chair that was across the small table from Helton and sat down.

“First of all,” he said, “thank you for coming in for the interview. You understand that you are not under arrest or anything like that. You are free to go if you wish. But by law we have to conduct an investigation of the death and we appreciate your cooperation.”

“I just want to get it over with so I can begin the process.”

“What process is that?”

“I don’t know. Whatever process you go through. Believe me, I’m new at this. You know, grief and guilt and mourning. Willy wasn’t in our lives very long but we loved him very much. This is just awful. I made a mistake and I am going to pay for it for the rest of my life, Detective Bosch.”

Bosch almost told him that his son paid for the mistake with the rest of his life but chose not to antagonize the man. Instead, he just nodded and noted that Helton had looked down at his lap when he had spoken most of his statement. Averting the eyes was a classic tell that indicated untruthfulness. Another tell was that Helton had his hands down in his lap and out of sight. The open and truthful person keeps his hands on the table and in sight.

“Why don’t we start at the beginning,” Bosch said. “Tell me how the day started.”

Helton nodded and began.

“Sunday’s our busiest day. We’re both in real estate. You may have seen the signs, Haddon and Helton. We’re PPG’s top-volume team. Today Arlene had an open house at noon and a couple of private showings before that. So Willy was going to be with me. We lost another nanny on Friday and there was no one else to take him.”

“How did you lose the nanny?”

“She quit. They all quit. Willy is a handful… because of his condition. I mean, why deal with a handicapped child if someone with a normal, healthy child will pay you the same thing? Consequently, we go through a lot of nannies.”

“So you were left to take care of the boy today while your wife had the property showings.”

“It wasn’t like I wasn’t working, though. I was negotiating a sale that would have brought in a thirty- thousand-dollar commission. It was important.”

“Is that why you went into the office?”

“Exactly. We got an offer sheet and I was going to have to respond. So I got Willy ready and put him in the car and went into work.”

“What time was this?”

“About quarter to ten. I got the call from the other Realtor at about nine thirty. The buyer was playing hardball. The response time was going to be set at an hour. So I had to get my seller on standby, pack up Willy and get in there to pick up the fax.”

“Do you have a fax at home?”

“Yes, but if the deal went down we’d have to get together in the office. We have a signing room and all the forms are right there. My file on the property was in my office, too.”

Bosch nodded. It sounded plausible to a point.

“Okay, so you head off to the office…”

“Exactly. And two things happened…”

Helton brought his hands up into sight but only to hold them across his face to hide his eyes. A classic tell.

“What two things?”

“I got a call on my cell-from Arlene-and Willy fell asleep in his car seat. Do you understand?”

“Make me understand.”

“I was distracted by the call and I was no longer distracted by Willy. He had fallen asleep.”

“Uh-huh.”

“So I forgot he was there. Forgive me, God, but I forgot I had him with me!”

“I understand. What happened next?”

Helton dropped his hands out of sight again. He looked at Bosch briefly and then at the tabletop.

“I parked in my assigned space behind PPG and I went in. I was still talking to Arlene. One of our buyers is trying to get out of a contract because he’s found something he likes better. So we were talking about that, about how to finesse things with that, and I was on the phone when I went in.”

“Okay, I see that. What happened when you went in?”

Helton didn’t answer right away. He sat there looking at the table as if trying to remember so he could get the answer right.

“Stephen?” Bosch prompted. “What happened next?”

“I had told the buyer’s agent to fax me the offer. But it wasn’t there. So I got off the line from my wife and I called the agent. Then I waited around for the fax. Checked my slips and made a few callbacks while I was waiting.”

“What are your slips?”

“Phone messages. People who see our signs on properties and call. I don’t put my cell oriv t my ce home number on the signs.”

“How many callbacks did you make?”

“I think just two. I got a message on one and spoke briefly to the other person. My fax came in and that was what I was there for. I got off the line.”

“Now, at this point it was what time?”

“I don’t know, about ten after ten.”

“Would you say that at this point you were still cognizant that your son was still in your car in the parking lot?”

Helton took time to think through an answer again but spoke before Bosch had to prompt him.

“No, because if I knew he was in the car, I would not have left him in the first place. I forgot about him while I was still in the car. You understand?”

Bosch leaned back in his seat. Whether he understood it or not, Helton had just dodged one legal bullet. If he had acknowledged that he knowingly left the boy in the car-even if he planned to be back in a few minutes-that would have greatly supported a charge of negligent homicide. But Helton had maneuvered the question correctly, almost as if he had expected it.

“Okay,” Bosch said. “What happened next?”

Helton shook his head wistfully and looked at the side wall as if gazing through a window toward the past he couldn’t change.

“I, uh, got involved in the deal,” he said. “The fax came in, I called my client and I faxed back a counter. I also did a lot of talking to the other agent. By phone. We were trying to get the deal done and we had to hand-hold both our clients through this.”

“For two hours.”

“Yes, it took that long.”

“And when was it that you remembered that you had left William in the car out in the parking lot where it was about ninety-five degrees?”

“I guess as soon-first of all, I didn’t know what the temperature was. I object to that. I left that car at about ten and it was not ninety-five degrees. Not even close. I hadn’t even used the air conditioner on the way over.”

There was a complete lack of remorse or guilt in Helton’s demeanor. He wasn’t even attempting to fake it anymore. Bosch had become convinced that this man had no love or affinity for his damaged and now lost child. William was simply a burden that had to be dealt with and therefore could easily be forgotten when things like business and selling houses and making money came up.

But where was the crime in all of this? Bosch knew he could charge him with negligence but the courts tend to view the loss of a child as enough punishment in these situations. Helton would go free with hi defree wis wife as sympathetic figures, free to continue their lives while baby William moldered in his grave.

The tells always add up. Bosch instinctively believed Helton was a liar. And he began to believe that William’s death was no accident. Unlike his partner, who had let the passions of his own fatherhood lead him down the path, Bosch had gotten here after careful observation and analysis. It was now time to press on, to bait Helton and see if he would make a mistake.