The Drop

it.”
    “How big was it? Are you talking about a whole fifth?”
    “No, no, smaller. It was a six-shooter.”
    “I don’t know what that means.”
    “It’s like a smaller flask bottle they put out. Holds a good six shots. I drink Jack myself and I recognized the bottle. We call ’em six-shooters.”
    Bosch was thinking that six good-sized shots probably added up to ten or twelve ounces. It was possible Irving could have concealed a flask-shaped bottle that size while he was checking in. Harry also remembered the array of bottles and snacks lined up on the kitchenette counter in the hotel suite. It could have come from there as well.
    “Okay, when he threw the bottle, what happened?”
    “I heard it shatter out there in the darkness. I think it hit the street or somebody’s roof or something.”
    “Which direction did he throw it?”
    “Straight out.”
    Bosch nodded.
    “Okay, sit tight, McQuillen. I’ll be back.”
    Bosch got up, punched in the combo again and left the room. He started down the hall toward Open-Unsolved.
    As he passed the video room, the door came open and Kiz Rider stepped out. She had been watching the interview. Bosch wasn’t surprised. She knew he was bringing McQuillen in.
    “Holy shit, Harry.”
    “Yeah.”
    “Well, do you believe him?”
    Bosch stopped and looked at her.
    “The story hangs together and it’s got parts we can check. When he went into the interview room he had no idea what we had—the button on the floor, the wounds on the shoulder, the witness who put him on the fire escape three hours too early—and his story hit every marker.”
    Rider put her hands on her hips.
    “And at the same time, he puts himself in that room. He admits choking the vic out.”
    “It was a risky move, putting himself in the dead guy’s room.”
    “So you believe him?”
    “I don’t know. There’s something else. McQuillen was a cop. He knows—”
    Bosch stopped cold and snapped his fingers.
    “What?”
    “He’s covered by an alibi. That’s what he hasn’t said. Irving didn’t go down for another three or four hours. McQuillen’s got an alibi and he’s waiting to see if we jack him up. Because if we do, he can ride it out, then drop the alibi and walk. It would embarrass the department, maybe give him a little payback for all that happened to him.”
    Bosch nodded. That had to be it.
    “Look, Harry, we’ve already primed the pump. Irvin Irving’s expecting the announcement of an arrest. You said the Times already has it.”
    “Fuck Irving. I don’t care what he’s expecting. And my partner claims we don’t have to worry about the Times .”
    “How’s that?”
    “I don’t know how but he got them to kill the story. Look, I need to put Chu on the Jack Daniel’s bottle and then get back in there and get the alibi.”
    “All right, I’m going back up to ten. You call me as soon as you’re finished with McQuillen. I need to know where we stand.”
    “You got it.”
    Bosch went down the hall to Open-Unsolved and found Chu at his computer.
    “I need you to check something. Did you release the room at the Chateau?”
    “No, you didn’t tell me to so I—”
    “Good. Call the hotel and see if they put bottles of Jack Daniel’s in their suites. I’m not talking about miniatures. Something bigger in a flask-size bottle. If they do, have them see if the bottle is missing from suite seventy-nine.”
    “I put a seal on the door.”
    “Have them cut it. When you’re finished with that, call the M.E. and see if the blood-alcohol on Irving has come back yet. I’m going back to McQuillen.”
    “Harry, you want me to come in when I get this?”
    “No, don’t come in. Just get it and wait for me.”
    Bosch punched in the combo and opened the door. He swiftly moved back to his seat.
    “Back so soon?” McQuillen asked.
    “Yeah, I forgot something. I didn’t get the full story from you, McQuillen.”
    “Yes, you did. I told you exactly what happened in that room.”
    “Yeah, but you didn’t tell me what happened after.”
    “He jumped, that’s what happened after.”
    “I’m not talking about him. I’m talking about you, what you did. You knew what he was going to do and rather than, say, pick up a phone and call somebody to try to stop it, you just shagged your ass on out of there and let him jump. But you were smart, you knew it could come back to you. That someone like me might show up.”
    Bosch leaned back in his chair and appraised McQuillen