The Drop

twenty minutes giving her the shorthand. She agreed with the plan to keep the new focus of the investigation quiet until more evidence was turned up or it became a strategic advantage to have the information out in the world.
    “Keep me posted, Harry. Start returning my calls and e-mails.”
    “Right. Will do.”
    “And start using the magnets so I know where my people are.”
    The lieutenant had put a squad room attendance board up with magnets that could be moved to illustrate whether a detective was in or out of the office. It was greeted by most in the unit as a waste of time. The whip usually knew where everyone was, and the lieutenant would as well if she ever came out of her office or at least opened the blinds.
    “Sure,” Bosch said.
    Chu was back in the cubicle when Bosch returned.
    “Where were you?” he asked.
    “In with the lieutenant. Where were you?”
    “Uh, I went across the street. I never got breakfast.”
    Chu changed the subject, pointing to a document that was on his computer screen.
    “Did you read Crate and Barrel’s report on the canvass?”
    “Not yet.”
    “They found a guy who saw somebody on the fire escape. The timing’s off but, man, what are the chances?”
    Bosch turned back to his desk and found the printout of the report on the hillside canvass. It was essentially a list of consecutive addresses on Marmont Lane. After each address it said whether the door was answered and a resident interviewed. They used abbreviations Bosch had read in LAPD canvass reports for more than two decades. There were a lot of NBHs, meaning nobody home, and a lot of D-SATs, meaning the residents didn’t see a thing, but one entry was several sentences long.

Resident Earl Mitchell (WM, DOB 4/13/61) had insomnia and went to the kitchen to get a bottle of water. The residence’s rear windows face rear and side of Chateau Marmont head-on. Resident said he noticed a man descending the fire escape ladder. Resident went to telescope in living room and looked at the hotel. The man on the fire escape was no longer in view. Resident did not call PD. Resident stated that this sighting occurred at approximately 12:40 A.M., which was the time on the bedroom clock when he decided to get up to get water. To the best of his memory, resident believes the figure on the fire escape was between the fifth and sixth floor and descending when seen.

    Bosch didn’t know whether it was Crate or Barrel who had written the report. Whoever it was, he had employed short sentences in a staccato fashion, but he was no Hemingway. He had simply employed the policeman’s KISS rule—Keep It Simple, Sherlock. The fewer words in a report meant the fewer chances and angles of attack from critics and lawyers.
    Bosch pulled his phone and called Jerry Solomon. When Solomon answered, it sounded like he was in a car with the windows open.
    “It’s Bosch. I’m looking at your canvass report here and have a couple questions.”
    “Can it wait ten minutes? I’m in the car and I’m with people. Civilians.”
    “Is your partner with you or can I just call him?”
    “No, he’s here with me.”
    “That’s nice. You guys go out for a late lunch?”
    “Look, Bosch, we haven’t—”
    “One of you call me as soon as you get back to the squad.”
    Harry closed the phone and focused his attention on the second report. This one dealt with the questioning of hotel guests and was set up in the same fashion as the other, only with room numbers instead of addresses. Again there were lots of NBHs and D-SATs. They did, however, manage to interview the man who checked into the hotel right after Irving.

Thomas Rapport (WM, 7/21/56, NYC resident) arrived at the hotel from the airport at 9:40 pm. Remembers seeing George Irving at check in. They did not speak to each other and Rapport never saw Irving again. Rapport is a writer in town for script conferences at Archway Studios. Confirmed.

    Another completely incomplete report. Bosch checked his watch. It had been twenty minutes since Solomon said he needed ten minutes. Harry opened his phone and called him back.
    “I thought you were supposed to call me in ten minutes,” he said by way of a greeting.
    “I thought you said you were calling me,” Solomon countered in a phony confused tone.
    Bosch closed his eyes for a moment and let the frustration pass. It wasn’t worth getting into it with an old bull like Solomon.
    “I have questions about the reports you sent me.”
    “Ask away.