Angels Flight

very quietly. But he was going to subpoena Kincaid and spring it on him in court. Only he made a mistake and showed his hand. He left a trail on the web site. Kincaid or the operators of the site learned they had been compromised.”
    “They sent out a gun,” Lindell said.
    “I seriously doubt it was Kincaid himself. But probably somebody working for him. He’s got a security guy. We’re checking him out.”
    They all sat silent for a long moment. Irving clasped his hands on the desk in front of him. There was nothing on top of it. It was just polished wood.
    “You have to cut Sheehan loose,” Bosch said. “He didn’t do it.”
    “Don’t worry about Sheehan,” Irving said. “If he’s clean he goes home. I want to know how we proceed with Kincaid. It seems so…”
    Bosch ignored his hesitancy.
    “We do what we’re doing,” he said. “We get search warrants signed and ready to go. I’m supposed to meet Mrs. Kincaid tomorrow morning at the old house. I go, try to play her, try to get an admission. I think she’s fragile, maybe ready to be flipped. Either way, we spring the warrants. We use everybody and hit all places at once – the homes, the cars, the offices. We see what they bring. We also have to pull records on his dealerships. Find out what cars Kincaid was using back in July. Richter, too.”
    “Richter?”
    “He’s the security guy.”
    Irving got up and went to the window this time.
    “You’re talking about a member of a family that helped build this city,” he said. “The son of Jackson Kincaid.”
    “I know that,” Bosch replied. “The guy’s from a powerful family. He’s even proprietary about the smog. He looks at it like it’s a family accomplishment. But that doesn’t matter, Chief. Not after what he’s done.”
    Irving’s eyes dropped and Bosch knew he was looking down at the protest march.
    “The city’s held together…”
    He didn’t finish. Bosch knew what he was thinking. That those people down on the sidewalks were expecting news of charges being filed – against a cop.
    “Where are we with Detective Sheehan?” Irving asked.
    Lindell looked at his watch.
    “We’ve been talking to him for six hours now. When I left he had yet to say a single self-incriminating word in regard to the murder of Howard Elias.”
    “He previously threatened the victim in the manner in which the victim was killed.”
    “That was a long time ago. Plus, it was said in public, in front of witnesses. It’s been my experience that people who make threats like that usually don’t carry them out. They are blowing off steam most of the time.”
    Irving nodded, his face still to the window.
    “What about ballistics?” he asked.
    “Nothing yet. The autopsy on Elias was supposed to start this afternoon. I sent Detective Chastain over. They’ll dig the slugs out and he’ll take them over to your firearms people. It will take too long to send them to my people in Washington. But remember, Chief, Sheehan volunteered his gun. He said, ‘Do the ballistics.’ Yes, he carries a nine but I kinda think he wouldn’t have offered the gun if he didn’t know the gun wouldn’t match the bullets.”
    “And his home?”
    “We searched it top to bottom – again, with his permission. Nothing. No other weapons, no hate notes about Elias, nothing.”
    “Alibi?”
    “Only place he’s hurting. He was home alone Friday night.”
    “What about his wife?” Bosch asked.
    “The wife and kids were up in Bakersfield,” Lindell said. “Apparently they’ve been up there a good long time.”
    It was one more surprise about Sheehan. Bosch wondered why Sheehan hadn’t mentioned it when Bosch had asked about his family.
    Irving remained silent and Lindell continued.
    “I guess what I’m saying is that we can hold him and wait till tomorrow when we’ve got the ballistics report to clear him. Or we can hop on Harry’s wagon and kick him loose now. But we keep him overnight and the expectations out on the street will just rise that much further…”
    “And if we release him without explanation we could touch off a riot,” Irving said.
    Irving continued to stare at the window, brooding. This time Lindell waited.
    “Kick him loose at six,” Irving finally said. “At the five o’clock briefing I will say he is being released pending further investigation. I can hear the howls already from Preston Tuggins and his people.”
    “That’s not good enough, Chief,” Bosch said. “You have to