The Black Box

23

They both drank a glass of red wine before getting into talk about Mendenhall and the events of their day. Hannah said she needed to decompress for a few minutes before turning the discussion serious.

“This is good,” she said about the wine Bosch had ordered.

She reached across the table and turned the bottle to read the label. She smiled.

“‘Modus Operandi’—of course that would be what you’d order.”

“You’ve got me pegged.”

She took one more sip and then took her napkin and needlessly rearranged it on her lap. Bosch noticed she often did this as a nervous tell when they were in restaurants and the discussion turned toward her son.

“Detective Mendenhall told me she was going up to talk to Shawn on Monday,” she finally said.

Bosch nodded. He wasn’t surprised that Mendenhall was going to San Quentin. He was just a little surprised that she had told Hannah. It wasn’t good investigative practice to tell one interviewee about plans regarding another, even if they were mother and son.

“Doesn’t matter if she goes up there,” he said. “Shawn doesn’t have to talk to her if he doesn’t want to. But if he decides he wants to, he just needs to tell her the—”

Bosch stopped talking as he suddenly realized what Mendenhall might be doing.

“What is it?” Hannah asked.

“The cover-up is always worse than the original crime.”

“What do you mean?”

“Her telling you she’s going up there Monday. Maybe she told you because she knew you would tell me. Then she’d see if I would try to get to Shawn first to coach him on what to say or to tell him to refuse the interview.”

Hannah frowned.

“She didn’t seem to be the sneaky type. She seemed really straightforward. In fact, I got the impression that she wasn’t happy about being in the middle of something that was politically inspired.”

“Did she call it that or did you?”

Hannah had to think about it before she answered.

“I might have first mentioned or implied it, but it wasn’t news to her. She said she was considering the motivation behind the original complaint. I remember that. That came from her, not me.”

Bosch nodded. He assumed she was referring to O’Toole as the originator of the complaint. Maybe he should have faith in Mendenhall, that she would see things for what they were.

Pino served their Caesar salads and they dropped discussion of the internal investigation while they ate. After a while Bosch moved the conversation in a new direction.

“I’m on vacation next week,” he said.

“Really? Why didn’t you tell me? I could have taken some time off. Unless . . . that was the point—you wanted to be alone.”

He knew she would come to that conclusion or at least consider it.

“I’ll be working. I’m going up to the middle of the state. Modesto, Stockton, a place called Manteca.”

“Is this on the Snow White case?”

“Yes. There is no way O’Toole would approve travel for me. He doesn’t want this case solved. So I’m going up on my own time and my own dime.”

“And without a partner? Harry, that’s not—”

He shook his head.

“I’m not going to be doing anything dangerous. I’ll just be talking to some people, watching others. From afar.”

She frowned again. She didn’t like it. He pressed on before she could voice another objection.

“How would you feel about staying at my house with Maddie while I’m gone?”

He could clearly see the surprise on her face.

“She used to stay with a friend whose mother offered to take care of her, but now she and the girl are not friends anymore. So it’s awkward. Maddie always says she’s fine to stay by herself but I don’t like that idea.”

“I don’t either. But I don’t know about this, Harry. Did you ask Maddie?”

“Not yet. I’ll tell her tonight.”

“You can’t ‘tell’ her. It’s got to be her decision, too. You have to ask her.”

“Look, I know she likes you and I know you two talk.”

“We don’t talk talk. We’re Facebook friends.”

“Well, for her that’s the same thing. Facebook and texting are how these kids talk. You got her the beer for my birthday. She reached out to you.”

“That’s nothing. Certainly a different level than actually staying with her in your house.”

“I know but I think she’ll be fine with it. If it makes you feel better, I’ll ask her tonight when I get home. When she says yes, will you then say yes?”

Pino came and took their salad plates away. Bosch asked the question again once the waiter was gone.

“Yes, I’ll do it,” Hannah said. “I’d love to do it. I’d also love to stay there when you’re home, too.”

She had mentioned their moving in together before. Bosch was comfortable with the relationship but wasn’t sure he wanted to take that next step. He wasn’t sure why. He wasn’t a young man. What was he waiting for?

“Well, this would be a step toward that, wouldn’t it?” he asked, in attempt to sidestep the issue.

“Seems like it’s more like some sort of a weird tryout. If I pass the daughter test, then I’m in.”

“It’s not like that, Hannah. But look, I don’t want to get off on this topic right now. I’m in the middle of a case, I have to travel on Sunday or Monday, and I’ve got a detective from Professional Standards on my tail. I want to talk about this. It’s important. But can it wait until some of this other stuff is out of the way?”

“Sure.”

She said it in a way that communicated that she wasn’t happy about him pushing the question aside.

“Come on, don’t be upset.”

“I’m not.”

“I know you are.”

“I just want it to be clear that I’m not in your life to be a babysitter.”

Bosch shook his head. The conversation was getting out of hand. He smiled reflexively. He always did that when he felt cornered.

“Look, I simply asked if you could do me this favor. If you don’t want to do it or if doing it is going to have all of this bad feeling attached to it, then we—”

“I told you I wasn’t upset. Can we just drop it for now?”

Bosch reached for his glass and took a long drink of wine, draining it. He then reached for the bottle so he could pour some more.

“Sure,” he said.