The Black Box by Michael Connelly

direction of his office. Bosch watched him go, shaking his head.
    Chu turned from his desk, holding out the page Bosch had given him.
    “That was easy,” he said.
    Bosch took the paper and checked it. Chu had written phone numbers under all three names. Bosch immediately forgot about O’Toole.
    “Thanks, partner.”
    “So, who’s the guy?”
    “Not sure, but ten years ago somebody named Alex Whitecalled from Modesto to ask about the Jespersen case. I want to find out why.”
    “There’s no summary in the book?”
    “No, just an entry in the chrono. Probably lucky somebody even took the time to put that in there.”
    Bosch went to work on the phone, calling the three Alex Whites. He was both lucky and unlucky. He was able to connect with all three of the men but none of them acknowledged being the Alex White who had called about the Jespersen case. They all seemed thoroughly confused by the call from Los Angeles. With each call, he had asked not only about Jespersen but also about what the men did for a living, as well as whether they were familiar with the John Deere dealership where the call supposedly originated. The closest Bosch got to a connection was the last call.
    The eldest Alex White, an accountant who owned several plots of undeveloped land, said he had purchased a tractor mower from the Modesto dealership about ten years earlier but could not provide the exact date without searching through his records at home. He happened to be golfing when Bosch called him but promised to get back to Harry with a date of purchase later in the day. Being an accountant, he was sure he still had the records.
    Bosch hung up. He had no idea whether he was just spinning his wheels but the Alex White call was a detail that bothered him. It was now after nine and he called the dealership from where the 2002 call had come.
    Blind calling was always a delicate skill. Bosch wanted to proceed cautiously here and not blunder into something or give a potential suspect a heads-up that he was on the case. Hedecided to run a play instead of being up-front about who he was and where he was calling from.
    The call was answered by a receptionist and Bosch simply asked for Alex White. There was a pause at first.
    “I don’t seem to have an Alex White on the employee list. Are you sure you want Cosgrove Tractor?”
    “Well, this is the number he gave me. How long have you been in business?”
    “Twenty-two years. Please hold.”
    She didn’t wait for his reply. Bosch was placed on hold while she presumably handled another call. Soon she was back.
    “We don’t have an Alex White. Can anyone else help you?”
    “Can I speak to the manager?”
    “Yes, who should I say is calling?”
    “John Bagnall.”
    “Hold please.”
    John Bagnall was the phony name used by all members of the Open-Unsolved Unit when they were working phone plays.
    The call transfer went through quickly.
    “This is Jerry Jimenez. How can I help you?”
    “Yes, sir, this is John Bagnall and I am just checking an employment application that says Alex White was an employee of Cosgrove Tractor from two thousand to two thousand four. Is that something I can get confirmed?”
    “Not through me. I was here then but I don’t remember any Alex White. Where did he work?”
    “That’s just the thing. It doesn’t say specifically where he worked.”
    “Well, I don’t see how I can help you. Back then I was sales manager. I knew everybody who worked here—just like now—and there was no Alex White. This isn’t that big an operation, you know. We’ve got sales, service, parts, and management. It only adds up to twenty-four people, including myself.”
    Bosch repeated the phone number Alex White had called from and asked how long the dealership had had it.
    “Since forever. Since we opened in nineteen ninety. I was here.”
    “I appreciate your time, sir. Have a good day.”
    Bosch hung up, more curious than ever about the Alex White call of 2002.
    Bosch lost the