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digital clock on the floor. It was plugged into a wall outlet near the desk.
    “Is that how that was found? Is it supposed to be on the desk?”
    “It’s where we found it,” Solomon said. “We don’t know where it is supposed to be.”
    Bosch walked over and squatted down next to the clock while he put on a fresh set of gloves. He carefully picked up the clock and studied it. It had a dock for connecting an iPod or an iPhone.
    “Do we know what kind of phone Irving had?”
    “Yeah, iPhone,” Glanville said. “It’s in the safe in the bedroom.”
    Bosch checked the alarm on the clock. It was switched off. He pushed the set button to see what time it had previously been set for. The red digits shifted. The last time the alarm was used it was set for 4 A.M.
    Bosch put the clock back on the floor and stood up, his knee joints popping with the effort. He left the main room behind and stepped through the French doors onto the balcony. There was a small table and two chairs. A white terry cloth robe had been left lying across one of the chairs. Bosch looked down over the edge. The first thing he noticed was that the balustrade came up only to the top of his thighs. It seemed low to him, and while he had no idea how tall Irving had been, he immediately had to consider the possibility of an accidental fall. He wondered whether that was what he was here for. Nobody wants a suicide on the family ledger. An accidental tumble over a low balustrade was far more acceptable.
    He looked directly down and saw the canopy the forensic team had put up. He also saw the body, on a gurney and covered in a blue blanket, being loaded into the coroner’s van.
    “I know what you’re thinking,” Solomon said from behind him.
    “Yeah, what am I thinking?”
    “That he didn’t jump. That it was an accident.”
    Bosch didn’t respond.
    “But there are things to consider.”
    “What are they?”
    “The guy’s naked. The bed isn’t slept in and he didn’t check in with any luggage. He just checked into a hotel room in his own city without a suitcase. He asked for the top floor and a room with a balcony. He then goes up to his room, takes off his clothes, puts on the bathrobe they give you in a place like this and goes out on the balcony to contemplate the stars or something. He then takes off the bathrobe and falls face-fucking-first off the balcony by accident?”
    “And no scream,” Glanville added. “Nobody reported a scream—that’s why they didn’t find him till this morning. You don’t accidentally fall off a freakin’ balcony and not scream your lungs out.”
    “So maybe he wasn’t conscious,” Bosch suggested. “Maybe he wasn’t alone up here. Maybe it wasn’t an accident.”
    “Oh, man, is that what this is about?” Solomon said. “The councilman wants a murder investigation and you’re sent out to make sure he gets it.”
    Bosch gave Solomon a look that let him know he was making a mistake suggesting Harry was carrying out Irving’s bidding.
    “Look, nothing personal,” Solomon said quickly. “I’m just saying we don’t see that angle at all here. Suicide note or not, this scene adds up to only one thing. A high dive.”
    Bosch didn’t respond. He noticed the fire escape ladder at the other end of the balcony. It led up to the roof and down to the balcony below on the sixth floor.
    “Anybody go up on the roof?”
    “Not yet,” Solomon said. “We were awaiting further instructions.”
    “What about the rest of the hotel? Did you knock on any doors?”
    “Same thing. Further instructions.”
    Solomon was being an ass but Bosch ignored it.
    “How did you confirm ID on the body? The facial damage was extensive.”
    “Yeah, this one’s going to be closed casket,” Glanville said. “That’s for sure.”
    “We got the name off the hotel registration and the plate on the car in valet,” Solomon said. “This was before we got the room safe open and found the wallet. We figured we better be sure