Andy said, “There’s a call from Dave Bushman at the Times. He needs a comment on the questions the Channel Ten people asked at the press conference.”
Stahl took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. “Tell him the department has a press office.”
“I did, but he said he’s doing you a courtesy.”
“Okay.” He held up the page he had been working on. “Take this. It’s a design for a new schedule, with each shift staying on a half hour later so we never have that gap between them. Which line is Bushman on?”
“One.” Andy took the schedule and closed the door. Stahl took the phone receiver from its cradle and pressed the button that was flashing. “Dick Stahl.”
“Hi, Captain. This is Dave Bushman at the Times. I wanted to give you a chance to comment on the record about the line of questioning we heard from Gloria and Todd from Channel Ten today. Would you like to make a statement?”
“Not at this time, Dave. I appreciate the chance, but this isn’t the moment, and I may not be the person to answer.”
“Can you clarify that? Are you confirming or denying?”
“I’m pretty sure we’ll have a statement within twenty-four hours. But for now, I guess the answer is that I don’t have anything to say at this time.”
“All right,” Bushman said. “I hope that works out for you.”
“Thanks.”
Andy appeared at the door again, and Stahl beckoned to invite him in. Andy said, “They’re about to run the story on Channel Ten. They just gave a teaser and went to commercial.”
“Are you watching TV?”
“I’m streaming Channel Ten on my laptop.”
“Want to bring it in?”
Andy hurried out to his desk, lifted the open laptop, brought it in, and set it on Stahl’s desk. He hit the key to make the television image fill the screen. When the commercials were over, the faces of Gloria Hedlund and Todd Tedesco appeared. Gloria Hedlund’s big blue eyes widened and her perfect mouth turned upward in a smirk as she said, “A well-known public official has come under suspicion of violations of police regulations and city standards of conduct.”
Todd Tedesco sat beside her staring into the camera and wearing the expression of stern disapproval he displayed during each night’s most serious stories.
Gloria said, “Our story involves Captain Richard Stahl, the recently appointed commander of the LAPD Bomb Squad.” Stahl’s picture, a frozen image from the press conference a few weeks earlier, filled the screen. “And it involves this woman, a bomb technician who was seriously injured in a bomb blast about a month and a half ago.” Stahl recognized a frozen image from the press conference when Diane’s name had almost been revealed on camera. It was now on a split screen beside his. She looked beautiful.
“Here’s what happened at a police department briefing earlier today.” There was a shot of the police press room, where Gloria Hedlund stood and said, “Sergeant Hines seems to be pretty important. Do you have a special relationship with Sergeant Hines?”
Stahl and Andy sat through the rest, which ended with his stepping down from the podium and out the door. Even though three reporters from Channel Ten had spoken, Gloria Hedlund said, “The captain seemed a bit uncomfortable with my line of questioning. At the moment we don’t know why that is. It’s all too familiar to see an older male public servant with an exalted rank who suddenly gets touchy about his relationship with a young, pretty woman under his command. We believe Captain Stahl should know that and—innocent or not—be willing to answer questions from the public about his conduct. This is Gloria Hedlund, Channel Ten News.”
Andy sat paralyzed for a few seconds.
Stahl said, “I’m going to get a call in a minute. You should get out there and answer it quickly to show you’re on the job.”
“Yes, sir.” He took his laptop and went back to his workstation. A few minutes later, Stahl saw Andy pick up his phone. Then Andy turned in his swivel chair, saw that Stahl was watching him, pointed at the phone, and held up two fingers.
Stahl looked at the phone on his desk and picked up the receiver. “Captain Stahl, Bomb Squad.” He listened for a moment. “I’ll be there in a minute.”
Stahl had to sit for only about five minutes in the waiting area outside the office of the chief of police. He used the time to type a few reminders to himself on his cell phone screen. He knew it was possible that these notes and reminders were things he would be passing on to his successor, and that made them more urgent. Some of them were ideas he had devised to solve technical problems he’d noticed over time, and there was no reason for the next commander to repeat the same work.
The chief’s door swung open and Deputy Chief Ogden looked out. When he saw Stahl he nodded and held the door open for him. Stahl walked to the door, took the hand Ogden offered, and shook it.
Ogden gave Stahl a smile that seemed to be intended as a reassurance, but Ogden’s nervous manner was unusual.
When Stahl stepped in, he saw the chief stand up from behind his large wooden desk and walk around to greet him. It took a few seconds, and during that moment Stahl took note of the fact that the room held several people he didn’t know.
The chief shook Stahl’s hand, but he didn’t smile. “Dick,” he said.
“Yes, sir,” said Stahl.
“Thank you for dropping everything to come in. I’ve been meaning to tell you how grateful we are for the help you’ve been giving us during this crisis. It’s clear to everybody that you’ve saved innumerable lives—police and civilian lives—in the past few weeks. Deputy Chief Ogden is closer to the scene, of course, because you’re in his command. But he tells me you’ve been proving day after day that you’re still the best bomb expert we’ve had. People say you’ve raised morale a hundred percent just by your example, and taught your technicians a whole lot of essential techniques and information.”
“Thanks, Chief.”
“I wanted to be sure I said that first, so you and everyone else know without a doubt that I have nothing but admiration for you.” He paused. “Have you heard the story that Channel Ten just ran on its local news tonight?”
“I did.”
The chief said, “When we knew there would be a story, I invited these ladies and gentlemen to watch it with me.” He held his arm out to introduce a middle-aged black woman in a navy-blue business suit. “This is Gwendolyn Barker, the chairperson of the police commission. You know Deputy Chief Ogden.” He passed him and pointed to a small man in a light gray suit. “This is Robert Minoso, our liaison with the city attorney’s office. And this is Nora Zorich, assistant DA.” She was exactly what Stahl expected of a prosecutor—very thin, wearing a black suit, sharp-featured, with dark eyes behind severe glasses.
Stahl shook hands with each of them. “You’ve assembled quite a team.”
Nora Zorich said, “If you’d like to have an attorney present, we can call and ask the union to send one.”
Stahl said, “I don’t think that’s necessary, but thank you. Let’s go ahead with our discussion.”
The chief said, “I’m going to ask you a question. You don’t have to answer it, but I hope you will. Is there any truth to the accusation from the newspeople?”
“Absolutely.”
“Pardon?” said Robert Minoso. “I’m not sure I heard correctly.”
“Yes,” said Stahl. “From the evening after the bomb we dismantled and destroyed at the gas station in the Valley until the day Diane Hines got injured in the trap at her apartment, she and I were engaged in a sexual relationship.”
The mood of the room seemed to become charged, full of potential energy like a courtroom. Gwendolyn Barker leaned forward. “Are you saying that the relationship is over?”