The Drop

because of your shared history. I said you would put the history aside because with you everybody counts or nobody counts. That’s all. If that’s too political for you, then I offer my resignation as your friend.”
    Bosch looked at her for a few moments. She was half smiling, not taking his upset seriously.
    “I’ll think about it and let you know.”
    He stepped out of his pod and headed down the aisle.
    “Wait a minute, would you?”
    He turned back to her.
    “What?”
    “If you are not willing to talk to me as a friend, then talk to me as a detective. I am a lieutenant and you are a detective. What is the update on the Irving case?”
    Now the humor in her face and words was gone. Now she was annoyed.
    “The update is that we’re waiting on the autopsy. There was nothing about the physical scene that leads us to any final conclusion. We have pretty much eliminated accidental death. It’s going to go suicide or murder, and my money at the moment is on suicide.”
    She put her hands on her hips.
    “How has accidental already been eliminated?”
    Bosch’s briefcase was heavy with files. He switched it to his other hand because his shoulder was beginning to ache. Almost twenty years before, he had been hit by a bullet during a shootout in a tunnel and it had taken three surgeries to repair the rotator cuff. He had gone almost fifteen years without its bothering him. But not anymore.
    “His son checked in without luggage. He took off his clothes and hung them neatly in the closet. A bathrobe was draped over a chair on the balcony. He went down face-first but didn’t scream because no one in the hotel heard a thing. He did not put his arms out to break his fall. For these and other reasons it doesn’t look like an accident to me. If you are telling me that you need it to be an accident, then come out and say it, Kiz, and then get yourself another boy.”
    Her face showed the pain of his betrayal.
    “Harry, how can you say that to me? I was your partner. You saved my life once and you think I would repay you by putting you into something that would compromise you?”
    “I don’t know, Kiz. I’m just trying to do my job here and it seems like there’s a lot of high jingo on it.”
    “There is, but that doesn’t mean I haven’t been watching out for you. The chief told you he wasn’t looking to cook the book on this. I’m not either. All I wanted was an update and now all of this . . . bile comes out.”
    Bosch realized his anger and frustrations were misdirected.
    “Kiz, if that’s the way it is, then I believe you. And I’m sorry to take it out on you. I should’ve known anything with Irving attached was going to go this way. Just keep him off me until we get an autopsy. After that, we’ll be able to draw some conclusions and you and the chief will be the first to know.”
    “Okay, Harry. I’m sorry, too.”
    “Talk to you tomorrow.”
    Bosch was about to step away when he changed direction and came back to her. He gave her a one-armed hug.
    “Are we okey?” she asked.
    “Sure,” he said.
    “How’s your shoulder? I saw you switch hands with your case.”
    “It’s fine.”
    “What’s wrong with Maddie?”
    “She’s got a bug, that’s all.”
    “Tell her I said hi.”
    “I will. See you, Kiz.”
    He left her then and headed home. As he moved in slow traffic on the 101, he wasn’t feeling good about either of the cases he was working. And he was upset that those feelings had made him act poorly with Rider. Most cops would cherish having an inside source in the OCP. At times he certainly had. But he had just treated her badly and had no legitimate excuse. He would have to make it up to her.
    He was also bothered by Dr. Stone and the way he had arrogantly dismissed her cause. In many ways, she was doing more than he was. Trying to stop crimes before they happened. Trying to save people from becoming victims. He had treated her like a sympathizer of the predators and he knew that was not the case. It was a city where not enough people cared about making it a better and safer place to live. She did and he had dismissed her. Shame on me, he thought.
    He pulled his phone and called his daughter’s cell.
    “You doing okay?”
    “Yeah. I’m feeling better.”
    “Did Ashlyn’s mom check on you?”
    “Yes, they both came by after school and brought me a cupcake.”
    That morning Bosch had e-mailed her best friend’s mother to ask for the favor.
    “Did they bring you your