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  Off the captain’s office, there was a meeting room with a long wooden table. This was primarily used as a lunchroom and occasionally for staff meetings or for private discussions of investigations involving multiple detective teams. With the squad empty, Bosch had commandeered the room and had spread several crime scene photographs, fresh from forensics, across the table.

  He had laid the photos out in a disjointed mosaic of overlapping images that in a whole created the entire crime scene. It was much like the photo work of the English artist David Hockney, who had lived in Los Angeles for a while and had created several photo collages as art pieces that documented scenes in Southern California. Bosch became familiar with the photo mosaics and the artist because Hockney had been his neighbor for a time in the hills above the Cahuenga Pass. Though Bosch had never met Hockney, he drew a connection to the artist because it had always been Harry’s habit to spread crime scene photos out in a mosaic that allowed him to look for new details and angles. Hockney did the same with his work.

  Looking at the photos now while sipping from a mug of black coffee he had brewed, Bosch was first drawn to the same things that had hooked him while he had been at the scene. Front and center were the bottles of Hennessy standing untouched in a row just across the counter. Harry had a hard time believing that the killing could be gang related because he doubted that a gangbanger would take the money and not a single bottle of Hennessy. The cognac would be a trophy. It was right there within reach, especially if the shooter had to lean over or go around the counter to grab bullet casings. Why not take the Hennessy, too?

  Bosch’s conclusion was that they were looking for a shooter who didn’t care about Hennessy. A shooter who was not a gangbanger.

  The next point of interest was the victim’s wounds. For Bosch, these alone excluded the mystery shoplifter as a suspect. Three bullets in the chest left no doubt that the intention was to kill. But there was no face shot and that seemed to put the lie to this being a killing motivated by anger or revenge. Bosch had investigated hundreds of murders, most of them involving the use of firearms, and he knew that when he had a face shot, the killing was most likely personal and the killer was someone known to the victim. Therefore, the opposite could be held true. Three in the chest was not personal. It was business. Bosch was sure that the unknown shoplifter was not their killer. Instead, they were looking for someone who was possibly a complete stranger to John Li. Someone who had coolly walked in and put three slugs into Li’s chest, then calmly emptied the cash register, picked up his brass and gone to the back room to grab the disc out of the camera-recorder.

  Bosch knew it was likely that this was not a first-time crime. In the morning he would need to check for similar crimes in Los Angeles and the surrounding areas.

  Looking at the image of the victim’s face, Bosch suddenly noticed something new. The blood on Li’s cheek and chin was smeared. Also, the teeth were clean. There was no blood on them.

  Bosch held the photo up closer and tried to make sense of it. He had assumed the blood on Li’s face was expectorant. Blood that had come up from his destroyed lungs in his last fitful gasps for air. But how could that happen without getting blood on his teeth?

  He put the photo down and moved across the mosaic to the victim’s right hand. It had dropped down at his side. There was blood on the fingers and thumb, a drip line to the palm of his hand.

  Bosch looked back at the blood smeared on the face. He suddenly realized that Li had touched his bloody hand to his mouth. This meant a double transfer had taken place. Li had touched his hand to his chest, getting blood on it, and had then transferred blood from his hand to his mouth.

  The question was why. Were these movements part of the final death throes, or had Li done something else?

  Bosch pulled his cell and called the investigators’ line at the medical examiner’s office. He had it on speed dial. He checked his watch as the phone rang. It was ten past midnight.

  “Coroner’s.”

  “Is Cassel still there?”

  Max Cassel was the investigator who had worked the scene at Fortune Liquors and collected the body.

  “No, he just-wait a minute, there he is.”

  The call was put on hold and then Cassel picked up.

  “I don’t care who you are, I’m out the door. I just came back in because I forgot my coffee warmer.”

  Bosch knew Cassel lived at least an hour’s commute out in Palmdale. Coffee mugs with warmers you plugged into the cigarette lighter were a must for downtown workers with long drive times.

  “It’s Bosch. You put my guy in a drawer already?”

  “Nope, all the drawers are taken. He’s in icebox three. But I’m done with him and going home, Bosch.”

  “I understand. I just have one quick question. Did you check his mouth?”

  “What do you mean, check his mouth? Of course I checked his mouth. That’s my job.”

  “And there was nothing there? Nothing in the mouth or throat?”

  “No, there was something there all right.”

  Bosch felt the adrenaline start to kick in.

  “Why didn’t you tell me? What was it?”

  “His tongue.”

  The adrenaline dried up and Bosch felt deflated as Cassel chuckled. Harry thought he had been on to something.

  “Very funny. What about blood?”

  “Yes, there was a small amount of blood on the tongue and in the throat. It’s noted in my report, which you will get tomorrow.”

  “But three shots. His lungs must’ve looked like Swiss cheese. Wouldn’t there be a lot of blood”

  “Not if he was already dead. Not if the first shot blew up the heart and it stopped beating. Look, I gotta go, Bosch. You’re on the sked tomorrow at two with Laksmi. Ask her these questions.”

  “I will. But I’m talking to you now. I think we missed something.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  Bosch stared at the photos in front of him, his eyes moving from the hand to the face.

  “I think he put something in his mouth.”

  “Who did?”

  “The victim. Mr. Li.”

  There was a pause while Cassel considered this and probably also considered whether he had missed anything.

  “Well, if he did, I did not see it in the mouth or throat. If it was something he swallowed, then that is not my jurisdiction. It’s -Laksmi’s and she’ll find it-whatever it is-tomorrow.”

  “Would you make a note so she’ll see it?”

  “Bosch, I’m trying to get out of here. You can tell her when you come for the cut.”

  “I know, but just in case, make a note.”

  “Fine, whatever, I’ll make a note. You know nobody’s gettin’ overtime around here anymore, Bosch.”

  “Yeah, I know. Same over here. Thanks, Max.”

  Bosch closed the phone and decided to put the photos aside for the time being. The autopsy would determine if his conclusion was correct, and there was nothing he could do about it until then.

  There were two plastic evidence envelopes that contained the two discs that had been found next to the recorder. Each was in a flat plastic case. Each case was marked with a date scribbled with a Sharpie. One was marked 9/01, exactly a week earlier, and the other was dated 8/27. Bosch took the discs over to the AV equipment at the far end of the meeting room and put the 8/27 disc into the DVD player first.

  The images were contained on a split screen. One camera angle showed the front of the store, including the cash register counter, and the other was on the rear of the store. A time and date stamp ran across the top. The activities in the store ran in real time. Bosch realized that, since the store was open from 11 A.M. to 10 P.M., he had twenty-two hours of video to watch unless he used the fast-forward button.

  He checked his watch again. He knew he could work through the night and try to solve the mystery of why John Li had put these two discs aside or he could go home now and get some rest. You never knew whe
re a case would take you and rest was always important. Added to that, there was nothing about these discs that suggested they had anything to do with the murder. The disc that had been in the machine had been taken. That was the important one and it was gone.

  What the hell, Bosch thought. He decided to watch the first disc and see if he could solve the mystery. He pulled a chair over from the table, set himself up in front of the television and moved the playback speed to four times real time. He figured it would take him less than three hours to knock off the first disc. He would then go home, get a few hours sleep and be back at the same time as everybody else in the morning.

  “Sounds like a plan,” he said to himself.

  5

  Bosch was roughly dragged out of sleep and opened his eyes to see Lieutenant Gandle staring down at him. It took Harry a moment to clear his head and understand where he was.

  “Lieutenant?”

  “What are you doing in my office, Bosch?”

  Bosch sat up on the couch.

  “I… I was watching video in the boardroom and it got so late it wasn’t worth going home. What time is it now?”

  “Almost seven but that still doesn’t explain why you’re in my office. When I left yesterday, I locked my door.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes, really.”

  Bosch nodded and acted like he was still clearing his head. He was happy he’d put his picks back in his wallet after he’d opened the door. Gandle had the only couch in RHD.

  “Maybe the office cleaners came by and forgot to lock it,” he offered.

  “No, they don’t have a key. Look, Harry, I don’t mind people using the couch to sleep. But if the door is locked, it’s for a reason. I can’t have people opening my door after I’ve locked it.”

  “You’re right, Lieutenant. You think maybe we can get a couch out in the squad?”

  “I’ll work on it but that’s not the point.”

  Bosch stood up.

  “I get the point. I’m going back to work now.”

  “Not so fast. Tell me about this video that kept you here all night.”

  Bosch briefly explained what he had seen when he spent five hours viewing the two discs through the middle of the night and how John Li had unintentionally left behind what looked like a solid lead.

  “You want me to set it up for you in the conference room”

  “Why don’t you wait till your partner’s here. We can all look at it together. Go get some coffee first.”

  Bosch left Gandle and walked through the squad room. It was an impersonal maze of cubicles and sound barriers. It whispered like an insurance office and the truth was, it was so quiet that at times Bosch had trouble concentrating. It was still deserted but would now start to fill up quickly. Gandle was always the first man in. He liked to set the precedent for the squad.

  Harry went down to the cafeteria, which had opened at seven but was empty because the bulk of the police department’s personnel were still working out of Parker Center. The move to the new Police Administration Building was progressing slowly. First some detective squads, then administrators and then the rest. It was a soft opening and the building would not be formally dedicated for another two months. For now it meant there were no lines in the cafeteria but there wasn’t a full menu either. Bosch got the cop’s breakfast: two doughnuts and a coffee. He also picked up a coffee for Ferras. He ate the doughnuts quickly while putting cream and sugar in his partner’s cup and then took the elevator back up. As expected, when he got back to the squad his partner was at his desk. Bosch put one of the coffees down in front of him and walked over to his own cubicle.

  “Thanks, Harry,” Ferras said. “I should have known you’d be here before-hey, you wore that suit yesterday. Don’t tell me you’ve been working all night.”

  Bosch sat down.

  “I got a couple hours on the lieutenant’s couch. What time are Mrs. Li and her son coming in today?”

  “I told them ten. Why?”

  “I think I’ve got something we need to pursue. I watched the extra discs from the store’s cameras last night.”

  “What did you find?”

  “Grab your coffee and I’ll show you. The lieutenant wants to see it, too.”

  Ten minutes later Bosch was standing with the remote control in front of the AV equipment while Ferras and Gandle sat at the end of the boardroom table. He cued the disc marked 9/01 to the right spot and then froze the playback until he was ready.

  “Okay, our shooter took the disc out of the recorder, so we have no video of what happened in the store yesterday. But what was left behind were two extra discs marked August twenty-seven and September one. This is the disc from September one, which happens to be one week prior to yesterday. You follow?”

  “Follow,” Gandle said.

  “So what Mr. Li was doing was documenting a tag team of shoplifters. The commonality between these two discs is that on both days these same two guys come in and one goes to the counter and asks for cigarettes while the other goes down the liquor aisle. The first guy draws Li’s attention away from his partner and the camera screen he had behind the counter. While Li’s getting smokes for the guy at the counter the other guy slides a couple flasks of vodka into his pants, then takes a third to the counter for purchase. The guy at the counter pulls his wallet, sees he left his money at home or whatever and they leave without making a purchase. It happens on both these days with them alternating their roles. I think that is why Li kept the discs out.”

  “You think he was trying to make a case or something?” Ferras asked.

  “Maybe,” Bosch said. “If he got them on film he’d have something to give the police.”

  “This is your lead?” Gandle said. “You worked through the night for this? I was reading the reports. I think I like the kid Li pulled the gun on better than this.”

  “This is not the lead,” Bosch said impatiently. “I’m only telling you the reason for the discs. Li pulled the discs out of the camera because he must have known those two guys were up to something and he wanted to preserve the record of it. Inadvertently, he also preserved this on the September first tape.”

  Bosch hit the playback and the image started to move. On the split screen both camera angles showed the store was empty except for Li behind the counter. The time stamp at the top showed that it was 3:03 P.M. on Tuesday, September 1.

  The front door of the store opened and a customer entered. He waved casually to Li at the counter and proceeded to the rear of the store. The image was grainy but it was clear enough for the three viewers to tell the customer was an Asian man in his early thirties. He was picked up on the second camera as he went to one of the cold cases at the rear of the store and selected a single can of beer. He took it forward to the counter.

  “What’s he doing?” Gandle asked.

  “Just watch,” Bosch said.

  At the counter the customer said something to Li and the store owner reached up to the overhead storage rack and pulled down a carton of Camel cigarettes. He put them on the counter and then put the can of beer into a small brown bag.

  The customer had an imposing build. Though short and squat, he had thick arms and heavy shoulders. He dropped a single bill on the counter and Li took it and opened the cash register. He put the bill in the last slot of the drawer and then counted several bills out as change and handed the money across the counter. The customer took his money and pocketed it. He put the carton of cigarettes under one arm, grabbed the beer and with his remaining free hand pointed a finger like a gun at Li. He pumped his thumb as if shooting the gun and then left the store.

  Bosch stopped the playback.

  “What was that?” Gandle asked. “Was that a threat with the finger? Is that what you’ve got?”

  Ferras didn’t say anything but Bosch was pretty sure his young partner had seen what Harry wanted them to see. He backed the video up and started to replay it.

  “What do you see, Ignacio?”

&nb
sp; Ferras stepped forward so he could point to the screen.

  “First of all, the guy’s Asian. So he’s not from the neighborhood.”

  Bosch nodded.

  “I watched twenty-two hours of video,” he said. “This was the only Asian who came into the store besides Li and his wife. What else, Ignacio?”

  “Watch the money,” Ferras said. “He gets back more than he gives.”

  On the screen Li was taking bills out of the cash register.

  “Look, he puts the guy’s money in the drawer and then he starts giving him money back, including what the guy gave him in the first place. So he gets the beer and smokes for free and then all the money.”

  Bosch nodded. Ferras was good.

  “How much does he get?” Gandle asked.

  It was a good question because the video image was too grainy to make out the denominations on the currency being exchanged.

  “There are four slots in the drawer,” Bosch said. “So you’ve got ones, fives, tens and twenties. I slowed this down last night. He puts the customer’s bill in the fourth slot. A carton of smokes and a beer, we assume that is the slot for twenties. If that is the case, he gives him a one, a five, a ten and then eleven twenties. Ten twenties if you don’t count the one the customer put in first.”

  “It’s a payoff,” Ferras said.

  “Two hundred thirty-six dollars?” Gandle asked. “Seems like an odd payoff and you can see there’s still money in the drawer. So it was like a set amount.”

  “Actually,” Ferras said, “two sixteen if you subtract the twenty the customer gives in the first place.”

  “Right,” Bosch said.

  The three of them stared at the frozen screen for a few moments without speaking.

  “So, Harry,” Gandle finally said. “You got to sleep on this for a couple hours. What’s it mean?”