Suicide Run_ Three Harry Bosch Stories - Michael Connelly [7]
“But now look,” she said.
She flipped the photos over, and below the listing of credits was the name of the photographer. The names were different but each name was followed by a matching location. Hollywood & Vine Studios.
“So you have different photographers using the same studio,” Bosch said.
He was thinking out loud, trying to take it to the next step.
“Did you look through the other files where there are headshots?” he asked.
“No, I just discovered this connection.”
“Good work.”
Bosch quickly went back to the stack of files and soon they were pulling the headshot photos out of files where they found them.
“Every actress in the city needs headshots,” Rider said as she worked. “It’s like death and taxes. You walk down Hollywood Boulevard and there are ads for photographers on every light pole.”
In five minutes they had six headshot photos of dead actresses with photo credits from six different photographers but all from Hollywood & Vine Studios. Lizbeth Grayson’s photo—the shot Bosch had borrowed from the acting coach—was one of the six.
Bosch spread the six shots out side by side and stared at them.
“Could this just be a coincidence?” Rider asked. “Maybe Hollywood and Vine Studios is a place all the photographers use.”
“Maybe,” Bosch said, continuing to stare at the photos.
“I guess we could check out wheth—”
“Wait a minute,” Bosch said excitedly.
He picked up one of the photos and looked at it closely. It was a shot of an actress named Marnie Fox. She had supposedly committed suicide by overdose six weeks earlier. He nodded and put it back down. He then went to the Grayson file.
“What?” Rider asked.
From the file he pulled one of the photos of Lizbeth Grayson in death and placed it down next to the shot of Marnie Fox. Now it was Bosch’s turn.
“What do you see that is the same?” he asked.
Rider moved in to look closely at the side-by-side photos. She got it quickly.
“The pendant. They are both wearing the same kind of pendant.”
“What if they are not duplicates?” Bosch asked. “What if they are wearing the same pendant? A diamond pendant the killer takes from one victim and then puts on his next victim. And from that victim he takes her pearl necklace and puts it—”
“On the next victim,” Rider finished.
Bosch started putting the files back into a stack he could carry.
“What’s next?” Rider asked. “Hollywood and Vine Studios?”
“You got that right.”
“I’m going with you.”
Bosch looked at her.
“You sure? Do you need to get an okay?”
“I’ll call it a long lunch.”
On the way Rider made a list of the photographers’ names and handed it to Bosch. When they got to Hollywood they parked in the lot by the Henry Fonda Theater and Bosch found a pay phone to call Jerry Edgar. He brought him up to date and his partner seemed miffed that he was working the case with an analyst, but Bosch reminded Edgar that he hadn’t been interested in Bosch’s hunch about Lizbeth Grayson. Properly cowed, Edgar said he would meet them at Hollywood & Vine Studios.
The photo studio was on the third floor of an old office building at the northeast corner of Hollywood and Vine. The building had been updated in recent years with each floor having been gutted and turned into lofts. This was attractive to the creative industry. Most of the listings on the building directory in the lobby were production companies, talent management offices and various other enterprises from the fringe of Hollywood. Bosch assumed that having an address that was as steeped in myth as Hollywood and Vine was a bonus to them all.
They waited ten minutes in the lobby for Edgar and then Bosch grew annoyed. Hollywood Division was less than five minutes away. He pushed the button and told Rider they weren’t waiting any longer. On the ride up they worked out how they would handle the visit to the photo studio. They stepped out of the elevator and approached a counter where there was a young man with his head down reading a script. He got to the bottom of the page before looking up at them.