The Overlook - Michael Connelly [3]
Bosch looked back at his old partner, ready for the rest of the report.
“The patrol car swings around about eleven and sees the Porsche with the hood open. Engine’s in the back of those Porsches, Harry. It means the trunk was open.”
“Got it.”
“Okay, so you knew that already. Anyway, the patrol car pulls up, they don’t see anybody in or around the Porsche, so the two officers get out. One of them walks out into the clearing and finds our guy. He’s facedown and has two in the back of the head. An execution, clean and simple.”
Bosch nodded at the ID tag in the evidence bag.
“And this is the guy, Stanley Kent?”
“Looks that way. The tag and the wallet both say he’s Stanley Kent, forty-two years old from just around the corner on Arrowhead Drive. We ran the plate on the Porsche and it comes back to a business called K and K Medical Physicists. I just ran Kent through the box and he came up pretty clean. He’s got a few speeding tickets on the Porsche but that’s it. A straight shooter.”
Bosch nodded as he registered all the information.
“You are going to get no grief from me, taking over this case, Harry,” Edgar said. “I got one partner in court this month and I left my other one at the first scene we caught today—a three-bagger with a fourth victim on life support at Queen of Angels.”
Bosch remembered that Hollywood ran its homicide squad in three-man teams instead of the traditional partnerships.
“Any chance the three-bagger is connected to this?”
He pointed to the gathering of technicians around the body on the overlook.
“No, that’s a straight gang shoot-’em-up,” Edgar said. “I think this thing is a whole different ball game and I’m happy for you to take it.”
“Good,” Bosch said. “I’ll cut you loose as soon as I can. Anybody look in the car yet?”
“Not really. Waiting on you.”
“Okay. Anybody go to the victim’s house on Arrowhead?”
“No on that, too.”
“Anybody knock on any doors?”
“Not yet. We were working the scene first.”
Edgar obviously had decided early that the case would be passed to RHD. It bothered Bosch that nothing had been done but at the same time, he knew it would be his and Ferras’s to work fresh from the start, and that wasn’t a bad thing. There was a long history in the department of cases getting damaged or bungled while in transition from divisional to downtown detective teams.
He looked at the lighted clearing and counted a total of five men working on or near the body for the forensics and coroner’s teams.
“Well,” he said, “since you’re working the crime scene first, did anybody look for foot impressions around the body before you let the techs approach?”
Bosch couldn’t keep the tone of annoyance out of his voice.
“Harry,” Edgar said, his tone now showing annoyance with Bosch’s annoyance, “a couple hundred people stand around on this overlook every damn day. We coulda been looking at footprints till Christmas if we’d wanted to take the time. I didn’t think we did. We had a body lying out here in a public place and needed to get to it. Besides that, it looks like a professional hit. That means the shoes, the gun, the car, everything’s already long gone by now.”
Bosch nodded. He wanted to dismiss this and move on.
“Okay,” he said evenly, “then I guess you’re clear.”
Edgar nodded and Bosch thought he might be embarrassed.
“Like I said, Harry, I didn’t expect it to be you.”
Meaning he would not have dogged it for Harry, only for somebody else from RHD.
“Sure,” Bosch said. “I understand.”
After Edgar left, Bosch went back to his car and got the Maglite out of the trunk. He walked back to the Porsche, put on gloves and opened the driver-side door. He leaned into the car and looked around. On the passenger seat was a briefcase. It was unlocked and when he popped the snaps it opened to reveal several files, a calculator and various pads, pens and papers. He closed it and left it in its place. Its position on the seat