“Even if we knock down his alibi, what are you saying, that this sixteen-year-old kid snuck over here from Hawaii, knocked off his old girlfriend and then went back without anybody seeing him?”
“Maybe it wasn’t planned like that. And he was seventeen-Muriel said he was a year older.”
“Oh, seventeen,” she said sarcastically, as if that made all the difference in the world.
“When I was eighteen I got a leave from Vietnam to Hawaii. You were not allowed to go stateside from there. Once I got there I changed clothes, bought a civilian-looking suitcase and walked right by the MPs to get on a plane to L.A. I think a seventeen-year-old could have done it.”
“Okay, Harry.”
“Look, all I’m saying is that it was sloppy work. According to the murder book, Green and Garcia cleared this guy with a phone call. There’s nothing in there about checking airlines and now it’s too late. It bugs me.”
“I understand. But just remember. We have a logic triangle we have to complete. We can connect Danny to Becky easy enough, and the gun connects Becky to Mackey. But what connects Danny to Mackey?”
Bosch nodded. It was a good point. But it didn’t make him feel any better about Danny Kotchof.
“Another thing is what he wrote in that letter,” he said. “He said he was sorry that it had to happen.
“It’s just a figure of speech, Harry. You can’t build a case on it.”
“I’m not talking about building a case on it. I just wonder why he chose to say it that way.”
“If he’s still alive, we’ll find him and you’ll get to ask him.”
They had crossed under the 405 and were in Panorama City. Bosch dropped the discussion of Danny Kotchof and Rider brought up Muriel Verloren.
“She’s frozen solid,” Rider said.
“Yeah.”
“It’s pitiful. There was no reason for them to take the daughter up the hill. They might as well have killed everybody in the house. They did anyway.”
Bosch thought that was a harsh way of looking at it but didn’t say anything.
“Them?” he asked instead.
“What?”
“You said there was no reason for
“I don’t know. Looking at that hill. It would have been tough for one person. It’s steep back there.”
“Yeah. I was thinking the same thing. Two people.”
“Your idea about spooking Mackey is getting better. If he was there, he could lead us to the other-whether it’s Kotchof or somebody else.”
Bosch turned south on Van Nuys Boulevard and stopped in front of an aging apartment complex that covered half the block. It was called the Panorama View Suites. There was a sign that said RENTAL OFFICE to the left of the glass doors of the lobby. It also announced that units were available on a monthly and weekly basis. Bosch put the transmission into park.
“Besides Kotchof, what else were you thinking, Harry?”
“I was thinking that I want to track down and talk to the other two friends. Maybe you can take the lesbian. But the father is my priority-if we can find him.”
“Okay, you take the father and I’ll take the lesbian. Maybe I’ll get to go up to San Francisco.”
“It’s Hayward. And if you need help I know an inspector up there who will track her down and save L.A. the cost of the trip.”
“You are really no fun, Harry. I’d like to hang out with the northern sisters.”
“Did the chief know about you?”
“Not at first. When he found out he didn’t care.”
Bosch nodded. He liked the chief for that.
“What else?” Rider asked.
“Sam Weiss.”
“Who is that?”
“The burglary victim. The one whose gun was used to kill the girl.”
“Why him?”
“They didn’t have Roland Mackey back then. Might be worth running the name by him.”
“Check.”
“After that I think we’ll be ready to make the play with Mackey, see how he reacts.”
“Then let’s get this over with and then go talk to Pratt.”
They cracked the doors at the same time and got out. As Bosch came around the SUV he could feel her looking at him, studying him.
“What?” he asked.
“There’s something else.”
“What do you mean?”
“With you. When you get that little crease on your left eyebrow I know something’s going on.”
“My ex-wife always told me I’d make a bad poker player. Too many tells.”
“Well, what is it?”
“I don’t know yet. Something about that room.”
“Back at the house? Her bedroom? You mean like it was creepy her keeping it like that?”
“No, actually, her keeping it was okay with me. I think I get that. It’s something else. Something wrong, something different. I’ll grind it out and let you know when I know.”
“Okay, Harry, that’s what you’re good at.”
They went through the glass doors into the Panorama View Suites. In ten minutes they confirmed what they knew going in; that Mackey had moved out soon after he had completed his probation.
As expected, he’d left no forwarding address.
14
ABEL PRATT WAS BEHIND his desk eating a concoction of yogurt and cornflakes out of a plastic tub. He made both a sucking and crackling sound as he ate and it was getting on Bosch’s nerves. They had been sitting with him for twenty minutes, updating him on the day’s progress on the cold hit.
“Shit, I’m still hungry,” he said after finishing the last spoonful.
“What is that, the South Beach diet?” Rider asked.
“No, just my own thing. What I need, though, is the South Bureau diet.”
“Really? And what is the South Bureau diet?”
Bosch could feel Rider tense. The South Bureau encompassed the majority of the city’s black community. She had to wonder if what Pratt had just said was some sort of backhanded racial comment. Bosch had often seen in the department the elevation of the us versus them ethic to the point that white cops would make racially tinged comments in front of black or Latino cops simply because they believed that within the rank and file, the color blue superseded skin color. Rider was about to find out if Pratt was one of these cops.
“Put down your antenna,” Pratt said. “All I’m saying is that I worked in South for ten years and I never had to worry about my weight. You’re always on the run down there. Then I got to RHD and gained fifteen pounds in two years. It’s sad.”
Rider relaxed and so did Bosch.
“Get off your ass and knock on doors,” Bosch said. “That was the rule in Hollywood.”
“Good rule,” Pratt said. “Except it’s hard when they put you in charge. I have to sit in here and hear about how you guys get to knock on doors.”
“But you get the big bucks,” Rider said.
“Oh, yeah.”
This was a joke because as a supervisor Pratt could not pull overtime. But those on his squad could, thereby
