Bosch had to hold himself back. He had decided that now was not the time to confront Irving. There was still work to be done. McQuillen first, then Irving.
“I understand,” he said. “I hope to have something for you soon. The next day or two.”
“That’s not good enough, Detective. I have not heard from you, and what I hear about you is not comforting. Are you working another case besides the investigation of my son’s death?”
“Sir, I have a lot of open cases and things don’t come to a standstill because a politician pulled strings and put me on a new one. All you need to know is that I am working the case and will have an update for you before the week is out.”
“I want more than an update, Bosch. I want to know what happened and who did this to my son. Are we clear?”
“Sure, we’re clear. And what I would like now is to speak to your grandson for a few minutes. Could you—”
“It’s not a good time.”
“It’s never going to be a good time, Councilman. But if you are going to demand results, then you can’t stop me from throwing the net. I need to talk to the victim’s son. He’s looking at us right now. Would you please wave him over?”
Irving looked back at the grave site and saw Chad standing by himself. He signaled him over. The young man walked up to them and Irvin Irving made the introduction.
“Do you mind if I speak with Chad alone for a few minutes, Councilman?”
Irving looked like he had been betrayed but didn’t want to reveal it in front of his grandson.
“Of course,” he said. “I’ll be at the car. We’ll be leaving soon, Chad. And Detective? I want to hear from you.”
“You will, sir.”
Bosch put his hand on Chad Irving’s upper arm and steered him away from his grandfather. They walked toward a stand of trees in the center of the cemetery. There was shade there and privacy.
“Chad, I’m sorry about your father’s death. I’m looking into it and hope to know what happened very soon.”
“Okay.”
“I hate to bother you at this difficult time but I have a few questions and then I can let you go.”
“Whatever. I don’t really know anything.”
“I know but we need to talk to everybody in the family. It’s routine. Let’s start with, When was the last time you spoke to your father? Do you remember?”
“Yeah, we talked on Sunday night.”
“About anything specific?”
“Not really. He just called and we sort of shot the shit for a few minutes about school and stuff but it was sort of bad timing. I had to go. So that was it.”
“Where did you have to go?”
“I had a study session set up and I had to go.”
“Did he say anything about his work or any sort of pressure he was under, anything that was bothering him?”
“No.”
“What do you think happened to your father, Chad?”
The boy was big and gangly, his face scattershot with acne. He shook his head violently at the question.
“How should I know? I had no idea what was going to happen.”
“Do you know why he would have gone to the Chateau Marmont and rented a room?”
“I don’t know.”
“Okay, Chad, that’s all. I’m sorry for the questions. But I am sure you want to know what happened.”
“Yes.”
Chad looked down at the ground.
“When do you go back to school?”
“I think I’ll stay with my mother for at least the weekend.”
“She’ll probably need that.”
Bosch pointed to the cemetery lane where the cars were waiting.
“I think she and your grandfather are waiting for you. Thanks for your time.”
“Okay.”
“Good luck, Chad.”
“Thanks.”
Bosch watched him walk back toward his family. He felt sorry for the kid. He seemed to be walking back to a life of demands and expectations that he had no part in conjuring. But Bosch couldn’t think about it too long. He had work to do. As he started walking toward his own car, he pulled his phone and called his partner. It took Chu six rings to answer his phone.
“Yeah, Harry.”
“What’ve they come up with?”
Bosch had gone through Lieutenant Duvall with a request to have the department’s top forensics team go back into the Chateau Marmont and make another sweep of room 79 using all means of evidence detection possible. Bosch wanted the place vacuumed, lasered, black-lighted and super glued. He wanted to try anything that might draw out evidence missed the first time, and possibly link McQuillen to the room.
“We got nothin’. So far, at least.”