Irving leaned across the table and pointed a finger at Bosch.
“This is where you are way off base,” he said. “I know who you are talking about and that was a request made in response to a complaint to my office. It was a request passed on in a social setting, nothing more. In fact, it was my grandson’s graduation party.”
Bosch nodded.
“Yes, a party that occurred two weeks after your son signed a one-hundred-thousand-dollar service contract with Regent Taxi, which would later announce plans to seek the city franchise currently being held by the company you complained about. I’m just guessing but I think a grand jury would find the coincidence of that hard to believe. I am sure your office would be able to provide the name of the citizen who made the complaint and she and her story would be vetted.”
Bosch pointedly looked at the aide with the legal pad.
“You might want to write that down.”
He turned his attention back to the head of the table.
“The officer in question learned that he was being used by the Irvings and confronted George Irving. Their friendship ended there. In the course of four weeks George lost three of the most important people in his life. His friend exposed him as a user if not a criminal, his only child left his home for college and life after, and last week his wife of twenty years told him she was leaving. She had stayed in the marriage until their son was gone, and now she, too, was finished.”
Irving reacted as if slapped in the face. He clearly knew nothing about the implosion of the marriage.
“George tried for a week to talk Deborah out of her decision and to hang on to the one person he had left,” Bosch continued. “To no avail. On Sunday—twelve hours before his death—he bought his son an airplane ticket to come home the next day. The plan was to tell the boy of the split. But instead, that night George checked into the Chateau Marmont with no luggage. When he was told suite seventy-nine was available he took it because that was the suite he and Deborah shared on their honeymoon.
“He spent about five hours in that room. Our information is that he was drinking heavily—an entire twelve-ounce bottle of whiskey. He was visited by a former cop named Mark McQuillen who knew by happenstance that he was in the hotel. McQuillen had been run out of the police department in a political witch hunt headed by Deputy Chief Irving twenty-five years ago. Now he was part owner of the taxi franchise George Irving was trying to destroy. He confronted George in the room and, yes, assaulted him. But he didn’t throw him from that balcony. He was in an all-night restaurant three blocks away when George jumped. We have confirmed the alibi and I have come to no other conclusion about this case. George Irving jumped.”
Bosch leaned back in his chair, finished with his report. There was no immediate response from anyone at the table. It took Irving a few moments to look at all the angles in the story and come up with something.
“McQuillen should be placed under arrest. This was obviously a carefully planned crime. I was correct when I said it was a payback. McQuillen perceived that I took his career. He took my son’s life.”
“McQuillen is on video in that restaurant from two till six,” Bosch said. “His alibi holds up. He was with your son at least two hours before his death. But he was not in the hotel when your son jumped.”
“And there’s the airline ticket,” Chu added. “Chad Irving was already flying down Monday. It wasn’t because his father had died, as the family suggested to us Monday. He had the ticket before, and there is no way McQuillen could have made that play.”
Bosch glanced at his partner. Chu had disobeyed Bosch’s order to maintain silence twice now. But both times it had been to great effect.
“Councilman Irving, I think we’ve heard enough for now,” the chief said. “Detectives Bosch and Chu, I want the full summary of the investigation on my desk before two o’clock today. I’ll review it and then I’ll hold a press conference. I plan to keep it brief and keep the details of the investigation brief. Councilman, you are invited to join me if you like, but I know that this is a very personal matter and you may want it to close up and simply go away. I’ll expect to hear from your office if you are coming.”
The chief nodded once and waited a split second for any reply. There was none, so he stood up. The meeting was over and so was the case. Irving knew he could press it and call for reviews and re-investigations but that path would be fraught with political peril.
Bosch had him pegged as a pragmatist who would let this one go. The question was, Would the police chief? Bosch had delivered the elements of a crime of political corruption. It would be difficult to pursue, particularly with a key player dead. And it was unknown whether they could get anything by leaning on the people at Regent Taxi. Would the chief follow up or would he hold it as an ace in a card game played on a level Bosch knew nothing about?