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“No. But if I allow you to sit in on a session, I could ask him about it. Does the hollow have something to do with what you’re investigating?”
“It could, yes.”
“You told Gina that you knew Mr. Bishop in the sixties. Judging by your age, I take it that you were at MacLaren as a child?”
“On and off for almost six years. Put in there when I was eleven, left for good when I was sixteen.”
“And never looked back?”
“That’s right.”
“What exactly are you looking for now, Mr. Bosch?”
“Answers. I had a friend there. He didn’t make it out alive. I want to find out what happened to him.”
“Was his death investigated then?”
“There’s a file, but there wasn’t much of an investigation. But I do know this: On the day before it happened, Mr. Bishop was treated in the hospital for an injury sustained in a fight. I was hoping to ask him about it.”
“Tell me: What did MacLaren sound like?”
“Like the inside of a prison. For kids.”
“Was there music?”
“In the cafeteria. At mealtimes.”
“What kind of music?”
“Sixties elevator music. It was piped in.”
“Muzak. Very popular in the sixties in institutions. Do you know that some astronauts played it in the Apollo capsules during stressful parts of the space missions?”
“Uh, no.”
“Audio analgesia.”
“Okay.”
“The tonal wash of sound was used to reduce stress.”
“And manipulate the mood of children being mistreated?”
“Possibly. We use music as part of our therapy.”
“You use it with Mr. Bishop?”
“Not yet, but you’ve given me a good lead.”
“Glad to help.”
“What did MacLaren smell like?”
Another question from left field, Bosch thought.
“Smell like?” he repeated. “Uh, I don’t really remember any smells, other than when I worked in the kitchen. Why do you ask that?”
“Because, of the five senses, scent is the most powerful prompter of memory,” Sears said. “Evolutionarily speaking, the olfactory bulb allowed us to smell and find food.”
