come down to get coffee. She was holding an empty What’s the bad guy up to? mug. The writer had given one to everybody in the squad.
“Almost done,” he said. “How about you?”
“I’m done with what O’Shea gave us. I called Evidence Archives for the box on Fitzpatrick.”
“What’s in there?”
“I don’t know for sure but the inventory in the book just lists the contents as pawn records. That’s why I’m having it pulled. And while I’m waiting I’m going to finish up on Matarese and have it ready to walk over tomorrow. Depending on when we get to talk to Waits, I’ll walk Matarese in either first thing or last thing. Did you eat lunch?”
“Forgot. What did you see in the Fitzpatrick file?”
She pulled out the chair opposite Bosch and sat down.
“The case was handled by the short-lived Riot Crimes Task Force, remember them?”
Bosch nodded.
“They had a clearance rate of like ten percent,” she said. “Basically, anybody who did anything during those three days got away with it unless they were caught on camera, like that kid who bricked the truck driver while a news chopper was right on top of him.”
Bosch remembered that there were more than fifty deaths during the three days of riots in 1992 and very few were ever solved or explained. It had been a free-for-all, a lawless time in the city. He remembered walking down the middle of Hollywood Boulevard and seeing flaming buildings on both sides of the street. One of those buildings probably contained Fitzpatrick’s pawnshop.
“It was an impossible task,” he said.
“I know,” Rider said. “Putting together cases out of that chaos. I can tell from the file on Fitzpatrick that they didn’t spend a lot of time with it. They worked the crime scene with a SWAT line guarding the place. The whole thing was pretty quickly written off as random violence, even when there was some stuff they should have routinely looked at.”
“Like what?”
“Well, for starters, Fitzpatrick looks like he was a straight arrow. He took thumbprints off of everybody who brought in stuff to pawn.”
“His edge against taking in stolen property.”
“Exactly. And what pawnbroker do you know of back then who voluntarily did that? He also kept an eighty-six list—customers who were persona non grata for various reasons and customers who complained or threatened him. Apparently it isn’t uncommon for people to come back in to buy back the property they’ve pawned, only to find they are past the holding period and it’s been sold. They get mad, sometimes they threaten the pawnbroker, and so on. Most of this came from a guy who worked for him in the store. He wasn’t there the night of the fire.”
“So, was the eighty-six list checked out?”
“It looks like they were going down the list when something happened. They stopped and wrote the case off as random violence associated with the riot. Fitzpatrick was set on fire with lighter fluid. Half the stores on the Boulevard that were burned down were started the same way. So they stopped spinning their wheels on it and went on to the next one. There were two guys on it. One’s retired and the other works Pacific. He’s a patrol sergeant now, p.m. watch. I left a message.”
Bosch knew he didn’t have to ask if Raynard Waits was a name on the 86 list. That would have been the first thing Rider said.
“You might have an easier time getting to the retired guy,” Bosch suggested. “Retired guys always want to talk.”
Rider nodded.
“That’s an idea,” she said.
“The other thing is Waits used an alias when he got popped in ’ninety-three on a prowling charge. Robert Saxon. I know you checked for Waits on the eighty-six list. You might want to check Saxon as well.”
“Got it.”
“Look, I know you have all of that going, but do you have time to do an AutoTrack run on Waits today?”
The division of labor in their partnership had her doing most of the computer work. AutoTrack was a
“Almost done,” he said. “How about you?”
“I’m done with what O’Shea gave us. I called Evidence Archives for the box on Fitzpatrick.”
“What’s in there?”
“I don’t know for sure but the inventory in the book just lists the contents as pawn records. That’s why I’m having it pulled. And while I’m waiting I’m going to finish up on Matarese and have it ready to walk over tomorrow. Depending on when we get to talk to Waits, I’ll walk Matarese in either first thing or last thing. Did you eat lunch?”
“Forgot. What did you see in the Fitzpatrick file?”
She pulled out the chair opposite Bosch and sat down.
“The case was handled by the short-lived Riot Crimes Task Force, remember them?”
Bosch nodded.
“They had a clearance rate of like ten percent,” she said. “Basically, anybody who did anything during those three days got away with it unless they were caught on camera, like that kid who bricked the truck driver while a news chopper was right on top of him.”
Bosch remembered that there were more than fifty deaths during the three days of riots in 1992 and very few were ever solved or explained. It had been a free-for-all, a lawless time in the city. He remembered walking down the middle of Hollywood Boulevard and seeing flaming buildings on both sides of the street. One of those buildings probably contained Fitzpatrick’s pawnshop.
“It was an impossible task,” he said.
“I know,” Rider said. “Putting together cases out of that chaos. I can tell from the file on Fitzpatrick that they didn’t spend a lot of time with it. They worked the crime scene with a SWAT line guarding the place. The whole thing was pretty quickly written off as random violence, even when there was some stuff they should have routinely looked at.”
“Like what?”
“Well, for starters, Fitzpatrick looks like he was a straight arrow. He took thumbprints off of everybody who brought in stuff to pawn.”
“His edge against taking in stolen property.”
“Exactly. And what pawnbroker do you know of back then who voluntarily did that? He also kept an eighty-six list—customers who were persona non grata for various reasons and customers who complained or threatened him. Apparently it isn’t uncommon for people to come back in to buy back the property they’ve pawned, only to find they are past the holding period and it’s been sold. They get mad, sometimes they threaten the pawnbroker, and so on. Most of this came from a guy who worked for him in the store. He wasn’t there the night of the fire.”
“So, was the eighty-six list checked out?”
“It looks like they were going down the list when something happened. They stopped and wrote the case off as random violence associated with the riot. Fitzpatrick was set on fire with lighter fluid. Half the stores on the Boulevard that were burned down were started the same way. So they stopped spinning their wheels on it and went on to the next one. There were two guys on it. One’s retired and the other works Pacific. He’s a patrol sergeant now, p.m. watch. I left a message.”
Bosch knew he didn’t have to ask if Raynard Waits was a name on the 86 list. That would have been the first thing Rider said.
“You might have an easier time getting to the retired guy,” Bosch suggested. “Retired guys always want to talk.”
Rider nodded.
“That’s an idea,” she said.
“The other thing is Waits used an alias when he got popped in ’ninety-three on a prowling charge. Robert Saxon. I know you checked for Waits on the eighty-six list. You might want to check Saxon as well.”
“Got it.”
“Look, I know you have all of that going, but do you have time to do an AutoTrack run on Waits today?”
The division of labor in their partnership had her doing most of the computer work. AutoTrack was a
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