flipped two fingers out with a business card between them.
“This is my private cell number. I’ll expect to hear something from you by the end of the day.”
Or you’ll take another ten million out of the overtime budget? Bosch didn’t like this. But he took the card and headed to the elevators.
On the way up to seven he thought about the stilted conversation with Irving. What bothered him most was that Irving knew his code, and Harry had a pretty good idea how he had come by the information. It was something he would have to deal with later.
5
T he upper floors of the hotel followed an L pattern. Bosch got off the elevator on seven and took a left to go around a corner and down to room 79 at the end of the hallway. There was a uniformed officer on the door. It made Bosch think of something and he pulled his phone. He called Kiz Rider’s cell and she answered right away.
“Did you know what he did for a living?” he asked.
“Who are you talking about, Harry?” she responded.
“Who else, George Irving. Did you know he was some sort of fixer?”
“I heard that he was a lobbyist.”
“A lawyer lobbyist. Listen, I need you to flex the muscles of the chief’s office and put a cop on his office door until I can get there. Nobody in or out.”
“Not a problem. Is what he did as a lobbyist in play here?”
“You never know. I’d just feel better if there was somebody on the door.”
“You got it, Harry.”
“I’ll talk to you later.”
Bosch put his phone away and approached the cop posted in front of room 79. He signed his clipboard, noting the time, and went in. He stepped into a living room with open French doors that led to the balcony and a western exposure. The wind was billowing the curtains and Bosch saw Chu out there on the balcony. He was looking down.
Standing in the room were Solomon and Glanville. Crate and Barrel. They didn’t look happy. When Jerry Solomon saw Bosch, he stretched his hands out in a what gives? gesture. Actually, Bosch realized, it was more of a what the fuck? gesture.
“What can I tell you?” Bosch said. “High jingo. We do what we’re told.”
“You aren’t going to find anything here we didn’t find. We have it right, the guy took the dive.”
“And that’s what I told the chief and the councilman, but here I am.”
Now Bosch spread his hands in a what can I do? gesture.
“So you want to stand around complaining about it or you want to tell me what you’ve got?”
Solomon nodded to Glanville, the junior of the two partners, and he pulled a notebook out of his back pocket. He flipped through a few pages and then started telling the story. Meantime, Chu came in from the balcony to listen as well.
“Last night at eight fifty the front desk gets a call from a man identifying himself as George Irving. He reserves a room for the night and says he’s on the way. He specifically asks what rooms with balconies they’ve got on the top floor. They give him a choice and he takes seventy-nine. He gives an American Express number to hold the room and it checks out to the card in his wallet, which is in the bedroom in the safe.”
Glanville pointed down a hallway to Bosch’s left. Harry saw an open doorway at the end and a bed.
“Okay, so he shows up at nine forty,” Glanville continued. “He valets his car in the garage, uses the AmEx to register and then goes up to his room. Nobody ever sees him again.”
“Until they find him on the sidewalk down below,” Solomon said.
“When?” Bosch asked.
“At five fifty one of the kitchen guys reports for work. He’s heading up the sidewalk to get to the rear entrance where the time-card rack is located. He finds the body. Patrol comes out first, then we get called when they make a tentative ID.”
Bosch nodded and looked around the room. There was a writing table next to the balcony door.
“No note?”
“Not that we’ve found in here.”
Bosch noticed a digital clock on the floor. It was plugged
“This is my private cell number. I’ll expect to hear something from you by the end of the day.”
Or you’ll take another ten million out of the overtime budget? Bosch didn’t like this. But he took the card and headed to the elevators.
On the way up to seven he thought about the stilted conversation with Irving. What bothered him most was that Irving knew his code, and Harry had a pretty good idea how he had come by the information. It was something he would have to deal with later.
5
T he upper floors of the hotel followed an L pattern. Bosch got off the elevator on seven and took a left to go around a corner and down to room 79 at the end of the hallway. There was a uniformed officer on the door. It made Bosch think of something and he pulled his phone. He called Kiz Rider’s cell and she answered right away.
“Did you know what he did for a living?” he asked.
“Who are you talking about, Harry?” she responded.
“Who else, George Irving. Did you know he was some sort of fixer?”
“I heard that he was a lobbyist.”
“A lawyer lobbyist. Listen, I need you to flex the muscles of the chief’s office and put a cop on his office door until I can get there. Nobody in or out.”
“Not a problem. Is what he did as a lobbyist in play here?”
“You never know. I’d just feel better if there was somebody on the door.”
“You got it, Harry.”
“I’ll talk to you later.”
Bosch put his phone away and approached the cop posted in front of room 79. He signed his clipboard, noting the time, and went in. He stepped into a living room with open French doors that led to the balcony and a western exposure. The wind was billowing the curtains and Bosch saw Chu out there on the balcony. He was looking down.
Standing in the room were Solomon and Glanville. Crate and Barrel. They didn’t look happy. When Jerry Solomon saw Bosch, he stretched his hands out in a what gives? gesture. Actually, Bosch realized, it was more of a what the fuck? gesture.
“What can I tell you?” Bosch said. “High jingo. We do what we’re told.”
“You aren’t going to find anything here we didn’t find. We have it right, the guy took the dive.”
“And that’s what I told the chief and the councilman, but here I am.”
Now Bosch spread his hands in a what can I do? gesture.
“So you want to stand around complaining about it or you want to tell me what you’ve got?”
Solomon nodded to Glanville, the junior of the two partners, and he pulled a notebook out of his back pocket. He flipped through a few pages and then started telling the story. Meantime, Chu came in from the balcony to listen as well.
“Last night at eight fifty the front desk gets a call from a man identifying himself as George Irving. He reserves a room for the night and says he’s on the way. He specifically asks what rooms with balconies they’ve got on the top floor. They give him a choice and he takes seventy-nine. He gives an American Express number to hold the room and it checks out to the card in his wallet, which is in the bedroom in the safe.”
Glanville pointed down a hallway to Bosch’s left. Harry saw an open doorway at the end and a bed.
“Okay, so he shows up at nine forty,” Glanville continued. “He valets his car in the garage, uses the AmEx to register and then goes up to his room. Nobody ever sees him again.”
“Until they find him on the sidewalk down below,” Solomon said.
“When?” Bosch asked.
“At five fifty one of the kitchen guys reports for work. He’s heading up the sidewalk to get to the rear entrance where the time-card rack is located. He finds the body. Patrol comes out first, then we get called when they make a tentative ID.”
Bosch nodded and looked around the room. There was a writing table next to the balcony door.
“No note?”
“Not that we’ve found in here.”
Bosch noticed a digital clock on the floor. It was plugged
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