“It is? Shit. Maybe I could survey the scene and-”
“We’ve already got too many people up there right now,” Bosch said. “Maybe later. What do you make of bite marks? Cigarette burns?”
“Are you saying that’s what you’ve found this time?”
“Plus, it wasn’t a bimbo from the sex tabs,” Edgar added. “He came here, she didn’t come to him.”
“He is changing quickly. It appears to be complete disassembling. Or some unknown force or reason compelling his actions.”
“Such as?” Bosch asked.
“I don’t know.”
“We tried to call you in Vegas. You never checked in.”
“Oh, the Stardust? Well, coming in I saw the new MGM had just opened and decided to see if they had a room. They did. I was there.”
“Anyone with you?” Bosch asked.
“The whole time?” Edgar added.
A puzzled look came over Locke’s face.
“What is going-”
He understood now. He shook his head.
“Harry, are you kidding?”
“No. Are you, coming here like this?”
“I think you-”
“No, don’t answer that. Tell you what, it would probably be best for all of us if you know your rights before we go any further. Jerry, you got a card?”
Edgar pulled out his wallet and from it took a white plastic card with the Miranda warning printed on it. He started reading it to Locke. Both Bosch and Edgar knew the warning by heart but a departmental memo that was distributed with the plastic card said it was best practice to read directly from a card. This made it difficult for a defense attorney to later attack in court how the police administered the rights warning to a client.
As Edgar read the card, Bosch looked out the window at the huge clot of reporters standing around one of the deputy chiefs. He saw that Bremmer was there now. But the deputy chief’s words must not have meant much; the reporter was not writing anything down. He was just standing to the side of the pack and smoking. He was probably waiting for the real info from the real guns, Irving and Rollenberger.
“Am I under arrest?” Locke asked when Edgar was done.
“Not yet,” said Edgar.
“We just need to clear some things up,” Bosch said.
“I resent the hell out of this.”
“I understand. Now, do you want to clear this trip to Vegas up? Was there anyone with you?”
“From six o’clock Friday until I got out of my car down the block ten minutes ago, there has been a person with me every minute of every day except when I was in the bathroom. This is ridic-”
“And that is who, this person?”
“It’s a friend of mine. Her name is Melissa Mencken.”
Bosch remembered the young woman named Melissa who was in Locke’s front office.
“The child-psych major? From your office? The blonde?”
“That’s right,” Locke answered reluctantly.
“And she will tell us you were together the whole time? Same room, same hotel, same everything, right?”
“Yes. She’ll confirm it all. We were just coming back when we heard about this on the radio. KFWB. She’s out there waiting for me in the car. Go talk to her.”
“What kind of car?”
“It’s the blue Jag. Look, Harry, you go talk to her and clear this up. If you don’t make noise about me being with a student, I won’t make a sound about this… this interrogation.”
“This is no interrogation, Doctor. Believe me, if we interrogate you, you’ll know it.”
He nodded to Edgar, who slipped out the door to go find the Jag. When they were alone, Bosch pulled a high-backed chair away from the wall and sat down in front of the desk to wait.
“What happened to the suspect you were following, Harry?”
“We did.”
“What’s that supposed to-”
“Never mind.”
They sat in silence for nearly five minutes until Edgar stuck his head in the door and signaled Bosch to come out.
“Checks out, Harry. I talked to the girl and her story is the same. There also were credit card receipts in the car. They checked into the MGM Saturday at three. There was a gas receipt in Victorville, had the time on it. Nine o’clock in the morning Saturday. Victorville’s what, an hour away. Looks like they were on the road when Chandler got it. Besides, the girl says they also spent Friday night together at his house in the hills. We can do some more checking but I think he’s being legit with us.”
“Well…,” Bosch said, not completing the thought. “Why don’t you go up and spread the word that he looks clear. I want to take him up to look around, if he still wants to.”
“Will do.”
Bosch went back into the study. He sat in the chair that was in front of the desk. Locke studied him.
“Well?”
“She’s too scared, Locke. She isn’t going along. She’s telling us the truth.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” Locke yelled.
Now Bosch studied him. The surprise on his face, the utter fright, was too genuine. Bosch was sure now. He was sorry, yet felt some perverse feeling of power, having run Locke through the scam.
“You’re clear, Dr. Locke. Just had to be sure. I guess the criminal only comes back to the scene of the crime in movies.”
Locke took a deep breath and looked down into his lap. Bosch thought he looked like a driver who had just pulled to the side of the road to collect himself after missing a head-on collision with a truck by a matter of inches.
“Goddammit, Bosch, for a minute there, I had bad dreams, you know?”
Bosch nodded. He knew about bad dreams.
“Edgar’s going up to smooth the way. He’s going to ask the lieutenant if you can go up and give a read on the scene. If you still want to.”
“Excellent,” he said, but there wasn’t much excitement left in him.
They sat in silence after that. Bosch took out his cigarettes and found the pack empty. But he put the pack back in his pocket so as not to leave false evidence in the trash can.
He didn’t feel like talking to Locke anymore. Instead, he looked past him and out the window at the activity on the street. The media pack had dispersed after the briefing. Now some of the TV reporters were taping their reports with the “death house” behind them. Bosch could see Bremmer interviewing the neighbors across the street and writing feverishly in his notebook.
Edgar came in then and said, “We’re ready for him upstairs.”
Staring out the window, Bosch said, “Jerry, can you take him up? I just thought of something I need to do.”
Locke stood up and looked at the two detectives.
“Fuck you,” he said. “Both of you. Fuck you… There, I just had to say that. Now, let’s forget about it and go to work.”
He crossed the room to Edgar. Bosch stopped him at the door.
