The Drop - Michael Connelly [132]
It had been a grand plan and Bosch had ruined it. The incident was being investigated by the sheriff’s department because it had taken place on their jail bus. The deputy who interviewed Bosch had asked him point blank why he had intervened. Bosch simply said he didn’t know. He had acted on instinct and impulse, without thinking that the world would be a better place without Hardy in it.
As Bosch stared down at the unending river of metal and glass, Pell’s anguish clawed at him. He had robbed Pell of his one chance at redemption, the moment when he would make up for all the damage inflicted on him and, to his way of thinking, the damage he had inflicted on others. Bosch didn’t necessarily agree with it but he understood it. Everybody is looking for redemption. For something.
Bosch had snatched it all away from Pell and that was why he listened to Frank Morgan’s mournful music and wanted to drown himself in drink. He felt sorry for the predator.
The doorbell sounded above the tone of the saxophone. Bosch went in but as he moved through the living room, his daughter bolted out from the bedroom hallway and beat him to the door. She put her hand on the knob and then her eye against the peephole before opening up, just as he had taught her. She paused and then pushed off the door, taking little robot steps backwards and right past Harry.
“It’s Kiz,” she whispered.
She turned and went into the hallway so she would have cover.
“Okay, well, no need to panic,” Bosch said. “I think we can handle Kiz.”
Bosch opened the door.
“Hello, Harry. How are you?”
“I’m good, Kiz. What brings you out?”
“Oh, I guess I was hoping to maybe sit out on the deck with you for a little bit.”
Bosch didn’t respond at first. He just looked at her until the moment became embarrassingly long.
“Harry? Knock, knock. Anyone home?”
“Uh, yeah, sorry. I was just—uh, come on in.”
He opened the door wide and let her in. She knew her way to the deck.
“Um, I don’t have anything alcoholic in the house. I’ve got water and some sodas.”
“Water’s fine. I’m going back downtown after.”
As she passed by the bedroom hallway Maddie was still standing there.
“Hi, Kiz.”
“Oh, hey there, Maddie. How’re you doing, girl?”
“I’m good.”
“Glad to hear it. You let me know if you ever need anything, okay?”
“Thank you.”
Bosch turned into the kitchen and grabbed two bottles of water out of the refrigerator. He was only a few seconds behind Rider but she was already at the rail, taking in the view and the sounds. He slid the door closed behind him so Maddie wouldn’t hear whatever it was Kiz had come to say.
“Always amazes me how no matter where you go in this city, you can’t get away from the traffic,” she said. “Even up here.”
Bosch handed her a bottle.
“So if you’re going back downtown and working tonight, this must be an official visit. Let me guess, I’m getting written up for stealing one of the chief’s motorcade cars.”
Rider waved that away like it was a fly.
“That was nothing, Harry. But I am here to warn you.”
“About what?”
“It’s starting. With Irving. This next month is going to be allout war and there are going to be casualties. Just be ready.”
“It’s me, Kiz. Be specific. What’s Irving doing? Am I already a casualty?”
“No you’re not, but for starters he’s gone to the police commission and he wants them to review the whole Chilton Hardy case. From bust to bus. And they’ll do it. Most of them have their seats because of his patronage. They’ll do what he says.”
Bosch thought of his relationship with Hannah Stone and what Irving could do with it. And jumping the Hardy warrant. If Irving could get to that, he’d be holding press