The Drop

his briefcase.
    “You want to sign it on top of this? Might be the best way to do it. Only flat surface we’ve got.”
    “Yeah.”
    The small man hopped out of his chair and came over to Bosch. Harry reached in his pocket for a pen and handed it to him. He bent down, his face very close to Bosch’s and poised with the pen over the document. When he spoke, Bosch could feel his hot breath on his face.
    “You know what should be done to this guy, don’t you?”
    “Who? Hardy?”
    “Yeah, Hardy.”
    “What should be done?”
    “They should hang him by his balls for what he did to that girl and to me and all the others. I saw the TV last night. I know what he’s done. They should bury him ass up and ten feet deep. Instead they’ll put him on Sixty Minutes and make him a star.”
    Bosch shook his head once. Pell was making some big leaps.
    “I’m not so sure what you mean about making him a star but my guess is that they’ll go for the death penalty and they’ll get it.”
    Pell laughed derisively.
    “That’s a fucking joke. If you’re going to have the death penalty, then you’ve got to use it. Not dance around it for twenty years.”
    This time Bosch nodded in agreement but said nothing further. Pell scratched his name on the document and proffered the pen toward Bosch. When Harry took it, Pell held on to it. They looked at each other for a moment.
    “You don’t like it any more than I do,” Pell whispered. “Do you, Detective Bosch?”
    Pell finally released the pen and Bosch put it into one of his inside coat pockets.
    “No,” he said. “I don’t.”
    Pell backed away then and they were finished.
    Five minutes later Bosch and Chu were heading out through the iron gate when Bosch suddenly stopped. Chu turned and looked back at him and Bosch tossed him the keys to the car.
    “Get it started,” he said. “I forgot my pen.”
    Bosch went back to Hannah Stone’s office. She seemed to be expecting him. She was standing in the reception area, waiting.
    “Come on back, Detective.”
    They went back into the interview room and she closed the door. When she turned around, the first thing she did was kiss him. Bosch got embarrassed.
    “What?” she asked.
    “I don’t know,” he said. “I don’t think we should be mixing things like this.”
    “Okay, I’m sorry. But you did come back—just like I guessed you would.”
    “Yeah, well . . .”
    He smiled at being caught in the inconsistency.
    “Look, how about tomorrow night?” he asked. “After Hardy’s arraigned. It sounds odd to say I want to celebrate but it’s like, when you put another one down . . . it feels good, you know?”
    “I think so. And I’ll see you tomorrow night.”
    Bosch left her then. Chu had pulled the car up directly out front and Harry jumped into the passenger seat.
    “So,” Chu said. “Did you get her number?”
    “Just drive,” Bosch said.

41

    O n Wednesday morning Bosch and Chu decided they would go to court to witness the first step of the judicial process involving Chilton Hardy. Though they were not needed for the proceedings involving Hardy’s first appearance on the murder charge, Bosch and his partner wanted to be there. It was rare in homicide work that an investigator brought to ground one of the true monsters in the world, and Hardy was one of them. They wanted to see him shackled and displayed, brought before the People.
    Bosch had checked with the MDC and knew that Hardy was on the bus that transported white inmates. It was the second bus scheduled for departure. This would put off his appearance in court until at least ten. It gave Harry time to drink a coffee and glance at the stories the investigation had generated in the morning papers.
    The phones in the cubicle kept ringing unanswered as journalists and producers left a series of messages seeking comment or inside access to the ongoing investigation. Bosch decided to get away from the noise and head over to the courthouse. As he and Chu stood and put their jackets on—without conferring they had both come dressed in their A suits—Harry could feel the eyes of the squad room on them. He went over to Tim Marcia’s desk and told him where they were going. He said that they would be back directly after Hardy’s appearance unless the prosecutor assigned to the case wanted to talk to them.
    “Who got the case?” Marcia asked.
    “Maggie McPherson,” Bosch said.
    “Maggie McFierce? I thought she was up in the Valley.”
    “She