The Drop by Michael Connelly Page A

complete—”
    “It’s okay,” Bosch offered. “I said it like a year, not a full date. Do you know if he used that number as a combination or password before?”
    She shook her head.
    “I don’t know.”
    “ATM password?”
    “No we used our son’s birthday—five-two-ninety-three.”
    “What about on his cell phone?”
    “That’s Chad’s birthday, too. I’ve used George’s phone.”
    Bosch wrote the new date down in his notebook. The cell phone had been logged into evidence by the SID team and was on its way downtown. He would be able to unlock it and access its call records at the PAB. He had to consider what this meant. On the one hand, use of the Irving’s anniversary date tended to indicate that it had been George Irving who had set the combination on the room safe. But a wedding date could be found in court records with a computer. Once again it was information that did not exclude either suicide or murder.
    He decided to move in a new direction again.
    “Deborah, what exactly did your husband do for a living?”
    She responded with a more detailed version of what Irvin Irving had already told him. George had followed in his father’s footsteps, joining the LAPD at twenty-one. But after five years in patrol he left the department for law school. After earning his JD, he went to work for the City Attorney’s Office in the contracts department. That was where he stayed until his father ran for city council and won. George quit working for the city and opened up shop as a consultant for hire, using his experience and connections to his father and others in local government and bureaucracy to give his clients access to the halls of power.
    George Irving had a wide range of clients, including towing firms, taxi licensees, concrete suppliers, building contractors, city office cleaners and code-enforcement litigators. He was a man who could plant the request in the right ear at the right time. If you wanted to do business with the city of Los Angeles, a man like George Irving was the one to see. He had an office in the shadow of City Hall, but the office was not where the work was done. Irving roamed the administrative wings and council offices of City Hall. That was where his work was done.
    The widow Irving reported that her husband’s work brought them a very nice living. The house in which they sat was valued at more than $1 million, even factoring in the downturn in the economy. The work also had the propensity to bring him enemies. Unhappy clients, or those competing for the same contracts as his clients—George Irving didn’t operate in a world above contention.
    “Did he ever speak about any business or person in particular being upset with him or holding a grudge?”
    “No one that he spoke to me about. He has an office manager, though. I guess I should say he did have an office manager. She would probably know more about this area than I would. George didn’t share a lot of that with me. He didn’t want me to worry about it.”
    “What is her name?”
    “Dana Rosen. She’s been with him a long time—going back to the City Attorney’s Office.”
    “Have you spoken with her today?”
    “Yes, but not since I learned . . .”
    “You spoke with her before learning your husband was deceased?”
    “Yes, when I got up I realized he had not come home last night. He wasn’t answering his cell, so at eight o’clock I called the office and talked to Dana to see if she had seen him yet. She said no.”
    “Did you call her back after you learned of your husband’s death?”
    “No, I didn’t.”
    Bosch wondered if there was a problem or jealousy between the two women. Could Dana Rosen be the woman Deborah thought her husband took drives at night to meet?
    He wrote the name down and then closed his notebook. He thought he had plenty to start with. He hadn’t covered all the details but this was not the time for a long Q&A session. He was confident that he would be coming back to Deborah