36
It was like being at the end of a maze and having to work their way back to the starting point. They had the location they wanted to search—the town house next door, where Hardy claimed he kept his stash of keepsakes from his kills. They just had to figure out the chain of events and legal steps taking them to it that could be put in a search warrant and that would be accepted and approved by a superior court judge.
Bosch did not reveal to Chu what had occurred in Hardy’s living room while Chu was back at the car. Not only was there the trust issue that had exploded on the Irving case, but Bosch had no doubt coerced a confession from Hardy, and he would not share that transgression with anyone. If and, more likely, when Hardy claimed coercion as part of his defense, Bosch would simply deny it and dismiss it as an outrageous defense tactic. There would be no possibility of anyone other than Hardy—the accused—being able to attack Bosch’s story.
So Bosch told Chu what they needed to do and they worked out how to get there.
“Chilton Hardy Senior, who is most likely dead, is supposed to be the owner of these two town houses. We need to search them both and we need to do it now. How do we get there?”
They were standing on the grass in front of the town house complex. Chu looked at the facades of units 6A and 6B as if the answer to the question might be painted on them like graffiti.
“Well, probable cause on six B is not going to be a problem,” he said. “We found him there living as his father. We’re entitled to search for any indication of what happened to the old man. Exigent circumstances, Harry. We’re in.”
“And what about six A? That’s the place we really want.”
“So we . . . we just . . . Okay, I think I got it. We came down to interview Chilton Hardy Senior but halfway through we realize that the guy in front of us is actually Chilton Hardy Junior. There is no sign of Hardy Senior and we’re thinking he might be tied up somewhere, being held captive, who knows what. Maybe he’s alive and maybe he’s dead. So we run a history search on the property appraiser’s database, and lo and behold, he used to own the place right next door and the transfer of title looks phony. We have an obligation to go in there to see if he is alive or in some kind of peril. Exigent circumstances again.”
Bosch nodded but frowned at the same time. He didn’t like it. It sounded to him like exactly what it was. A story made up to get them in the door. A judge might sign the search warrant but they’d have to find a friendly one. He wanted something bulletproof. Something that any judge would approve and that would hold up upon subsequent legal challenges.
Suddenly he realized he had their access right in his hand. In more ways than one. He held up the key ring. There were six keys on it. One carried the Dodge logo and was obviously to a vehicle. There were two full-size Schlage keys that he assumed were the keys to the front doors of the two apartments, and then three smaller keys. Two of these were the small keys used to open private mailboxes like the kind they had seen out at the curb.
“The keys,” he said. “He’s got two mailbox keys. Come on.”
They headed to the bank of mailboxes. When they got there Bosch tried the keys in the boxes assigned to complex 6. He was able to open the boxes for units 6A and 6B. He noted that the name on 6A was Drew, which Bosch took to be an attempt at humor on Hardy’s part. Hardy and Drew living side by side in Los Alamitos.
“Okay, we found two mailbox keys in Hardy’s possession,” he said. “That led us here and we learned that he had access to two boxes. Units six A and B. We noted also that he had two Schlage deadbolt keys and this led us to believe he had access to both six A and B. We checked the ownership records and saw the transfer from the father on six B. It doesn’t look right because it took place after we think the son started playing the father. So we need to check out A to see if the old man is being held there. We knocked, got no answer, and now we want permission to go in.”
Chu nodded. He liked it.
“I think it works. You want me to write it up that way?”
“Yeah. Do it. Go write it up inside so you can keep an eye on Hardy.”
Bosch hefted the key ring in his hand.
“I’m going in six A to see if this is worth our while.”
It was called jumping the warrant. Checking a place out before a search has officially been approved by a judge. If it was ever acknowledged as a police practice, people could lose their badges, even end up in jail. But the truth was, many were the times that search warrants were authored with full knowledge of what would be found in the targeted structure or vehicle. This was because the police had already been inside.
“You sure you need to, Harry?” Chu asked.
“Yeah. If Hardy made a play on me while I was playing him, then I want to know sooner rather than later so we aren’t spinning our wheels.”
“Then just wait till I’m inside so I don’t know about it.”
Bosch gestured toward the door of 6B like a maitre d’, with his arm out and his body slightly bent at the waist. Chu headed back to the town house but then stopped and came back.
“When are we going to tell the other LAPD that we’re here and what we’re doing?”
“What other LAPD?”
“Los Alamitos Police Department.”
“Not quite yet,” Bosch said. “When we get an approval on the warrant, we can call them in.”
“They’re not going to like that.”
“Tough shit. Our case, our arrest.”
Bosch knew that a department the size of Los Alamitos could easily be bigfooted by the “real” LAPD.
Chu started toward the door to 6B again and Bosch headed back to the car. He popped the trunk and from the equipment box took several pairs of latex gloves and put them into his coat pocket. He grabbed a flashlight in case it was needed and closed the trunk.
Bosch walked back to 6A but was distracted by the sound of yelling coming from 6B as he approached. It was Hardy.
Bosch went through the door of 6B. Hardy was still lying prone under the couch. Chu was sitting on a chair he had brought out from the kitchen and was working on his laptop. Hardy went silent as Bosch entered.
“What’s he yelling about?”
“First he wanted a cigarette. Now he wants his attorney.”
Bosch looked down at the overturned couch.
“As soon as you’re booked you get your phone call.”
“Then book me!”
“We are securing the scene first. And if you keep yelling, then we are going to further secure you with a gag.”
“I’m entitled to an attorney. You said so yourself.”
“You’ll get the phone call when everyone else gets the phone call. When you’re booked.”
Bosch turned back toward the door.
“Hey, Bosch?”
He turned back.
“Did you go in yet?”
Bosch didn’t answer. Hardy continued.
“They’re going to make movies about us.”
Chu glanced up and exchanged a look with Bosch. There were killers who got off on their infamy and the fear their legends created. Real-life bogeymen, urban myth becoming urban reality. Hardy had stayed hidden for so many years. Now it would be his turn in the spotlight.
“Sure,” Bosch said. “You’re going to be the most famous asshole on death row.”
“Please. You know I’ll be able to beat the needle for twenty years. At least. Who do you think will play me in the movie?”
Bosch didn’t answer. He stepped out onto the stoop and casually glanced around to see if there were any nearby pedestrians or motorists. It was clear. He quickly walked to the door of 6A and pulled Hardy’s key ring out of his pocket. He tried one of the Schlage keys on the deadbolt and got lucky with his first try. The key also fit the knob lock. He pushed the door open and entered, then closed it behind him.
