The Drop

“I heard it shatter out there in the darkness. I think it hit the street or somebody’s roof or something.”

“Which direction did he throw it?”

“Straight out.”

Bosch nodded.

“Okay, sit tight, McQuillen. I’ll be back.”

Bosch got up, punched in the combo again and left the room. He started down the hall toward Open- Unsolved.

As he passed the video room, the door came open and Kiz Rider stepped out. She had been watching the interview. Bosch wasn’t surprised. She knew he was bringing McQuillen in.

“Holy shit, Harry.”

“Yeah.”

“Well, do you believe him?”

Bosch stopped and looked at her.

“The story hangs together and it’s got parts we can check. When he went into the interview room he had no idea what we had—the button on the floor, the wounds on the shoulder, the witness who put him on the fire escape three hours too early—and his story hit every marker.”

Rider put her hands on her hips.

“And at the same time, he puts himself in that room. He admits choking the vic out.”

“It was a risky move, putting himself in the dead guy’s room.”

“So you believe him?”

“I don’t know. There’s something else. McQuillen was a cop. He knows—”

Bosch stopped cold and snapped his fingers.

“What?”

“He’s covered by an alibi. That’s what he hasn’t said. Irving didn’t go down for another three or four hours. McQuillen’s got an alibi and he’s waiting to see if we jack him up. Because if we do, he can ride it out, then drop the alibi and walk. It would embarrass the department, maybe give him a little payback for all that happened to him.”

Bosch nodded. That had to be it.

“Look, Harry, we’ve already primed the pump. Irvin Irving’s expecting the announcement of an arrest. You said the Times already has it.”

“Fuck Irving. I don’t care what he’s expecting. And my partner claims we don’t have to worry about the Times.”

“How’s that?”

“I don’t know how but he got them to kill the story. Look, I need to put Chu on the Jack Daniel’s bottle and then get back in there and get the alibi.”

“All right, I’m going back up to ten. You call me as soon as you’re finished with McQuillen. I need to know where we stand.”

“You got it.”

Bosch went down the hall to Open-Unsolved and found Chu at his computer.

“I need you to check something. Did you release the room at the Chateau?”

“No, you didn’t tell me to so I—”

“Good. Call the hotel and see if they put bottles of Jack Daniel’s in their suites. I’m not talking about miniatures. Something bigger in a flask-size bottle. If they do, have them see if the bottle is missing from suite seventy-nine.”

“I put a seal on the door.”

“Have them cut it. When you’re finished with that, call the M.E. and see if the blood-alcohol on Irving has come back yet. I’m going back to McQuillen.”

“Harry, you want me to come in when I get this?”

“No, don’t come in. Just get it and wait for me.”

Bosch punched in the combo and opened the door. He swiftly moved back to his seat.

“Back so soon?” McQuillen asked.

“Yeah, I forgot something. I didn’t get the full story from you, McQuillen.”

“Yes, you did. I told you exactly what happened in that room.”

“Yeah, but you didn’t tell me what happened after.”

“He jumped, that’s what happened after.”

“I’m not talking about him. I’m talking about you, what you did. You knew what he was going to do and rather than, say, pick up a phone and call somebody to try to stop it, you just shagged your ass on out of there and let him jump. But you were smart, you knew it could come back to you. That someone like me might show up.”

Bosch leaned back in his chair and appraised McQuillen and nodded.

“So you went and got yourself alibied.”

McQuillen kept a straight face.

“You came in here hoping we’d arrest you and then you’d eventually pop the alibi out there and embarrass the department for all the shit you got dragged through before. Maybe get a lawsuit for false arrest going. You were going to use Irving for some payback.”

McQuillen showed nothing. Bosch leaned forward and across the table.

“You might as well tell me because I’m not arresting you, McQuillen. I’m not giving you this play, no matter what I think of what was done to you twenty-five years ago.”

McQuillen finally nodded and flicked a hand as though to say, What the hell, it was worth a try.

“I had parked over at the Standard across Sunset. They know me there.”

The Standard was a boutique hotel a few blocks from the Chateau.

“Good customers of ours. Technically, that’s West Hollywood, so we can’t sit on the place but we’ve got the doormen wired. When a customer needs a cab, they call us. We always have a car sitting nearby.”

“So you went there after seeing Irving.”

“Yeah, they got a restaurant there called Twenty-four/Seven. It never closes and it’s got a camera over the counter. I went there and I never left that counter until the sun came up. You go get the disc and I’ll be on it. When Irving jumped, I was drinking hot coffee.”

Bosch shook his head like the story didn’t add up.

“How’d you know Irving wouldn’t jump before you got there—when you were still in the Chateau or walking over? What was that, fifteen minutes at least. That was risky.”

McQuillen shrugged.

“He was temporarily incapacitated.”

Bosch stared at him for a long moment until understanding came. McQuillen had choked Irving out again.

Bosch leaned across the table and stared hard at McQuillen.

“You put him to sleep again. You choked him out, made sure he was breathing and left him there snoring on the floor.”

Bosch remembered the alarm clock in the room.

“Then you went into the bedroom and brought the clock out. You plugged it in next to him on the floor and set the alarm for four A.M. to make sure he’d wake up. Just so he could jump while you were alibied at the Standard with your hot coffee.”

Another shrug from McQuillen. He was finished talking.

“You’re a hell of a guy, McQuillen, and you’re free to go.”

McQuillen nodded smugly.

“I appreciate that.”

“Yeah, well, appreciate this. For twenty-five years I thought you got a bad deal. Now I think maybe they got it right. You’re a bad guy and that means you were a bad cop.”