married or never gotten divorced.
“See if Wren Williams can sign checks,” I said. “If she’s on there, take her off. For now I want just you and me on the accounts.”
“Will do. You may have to go back to Judge Holder for a court order for the bank.”
“That’ll be no problem.”
My watch said I had ten minutes before I had to get going to court. I turned my attention to Wojciechowski.
“Cisco, whaddaya got?”
I had told him earlier to work his contacts and to monitor the investigation of Vincent’s murder as closely as possible. I wanted to know what moves the detectives were making because it appeared from what Bosch had said that the investigation was going to be entwined with the cases I had just inherited.
“Not much,” Cisco said. “The detectives haven’t even gotten back to Parker Center yet. I called a guy I know in forensics and they’re still processing everything. Not a lot of info on what they do have but he told me about something they don’t. Vincent was shot at least two times that they could tell at the scene. And there were no shells. The shooter cleaned up.”
There was something telling in that. The killer had either used a revolver or had had the presence of mind after killing a man to pick up the bullet casings ejected from his gun.
Cisco continued his report.
“I called another contact in communications and she told me the first call came in at twelve forty-three. They’ll narrow down time of death at autopsy.”
“Is there a general idea of what happened?”
“It looks like Vincent worked late, which was apparently his routine on Mondays. He worked late every Monday, preparing for the week ahead. When he was finished he packed his briefcase, locked up and left. He goes to the garage, gets in his car and gets popped through the driver’s side window. When they found him the car was in park, the ignition on. The window was down. It was in the low sixties last night. He could’ve put the window down because he liked the chill, or he could’ve lowered it for somebody coming to the car.”
“Somebody he knew.”
“That’s one possibility.”
I thought about this and what Detective Bosch had said.
“Nobody was working in the garage?”
“No, the attendant leaves at six. You have to put your money in the machine after that or use your monthly pass. Vincent had a monthly.”
“Cameras?”
“Only cameras are where you drive in and out. They’re license plate cameras so if somebody says they lost their ticket they can tell when the car went in, that sort of thing. But from what I hear from my guy in forensics, there was nothing on tape that was useful. The killer didn’t drive into the garage. He walked in either through the building or through one of the pedestrian entrances.”
“Who found Jerry?”
“The security guard. They got one guard for the building and the garage. He hits the garage a couple times a night and noticed Vincent’s car on his second sweep. The lights were on and it was running, so he checked it out. He thought Vincent was sleeping at first, then he saw the blood.”
I nodded, thinking about the scenario and how it had gone down. The killer was either incredibly careless and lucky or he knew the garage had no cameras and he would be able to intercept Jerry Vincent there on a Monday night when the space was almost deserted.
“Okay, stay on it. What about Harry Potter?”
“Who?”
“The detective. Not Potter. I mean—”
“Bosch. Harry Bosch. I’m working on that, too. Supposedly he’s one of the best. Retired a few years ago and the police chief himself recruited him back. Or so the story goes.”
Cisco referred to some notes on a pad.
“Full name is Hieronymus Bosch. He has a total of thirty-three years on the job and you know what that means.”
“No, what does it mean?”
“Well, under the LAPD’s pension program you max out at thirty years, meaning that you are eligible for retirement with full pension and
“See if Wren Williams can sign checks,” I said. “If she’s on there, take her off. For now I want just you and me on the accounts.”
“Will do. You may have to go back to Judge Holder for a court order for the bank.”
“That’ll be no problem.”
My watch said I had ten minutes before I had to get going to court. I turned my attention to Wojciechowski.
“Cisco, whaddaya got?”
I had told him earlier to work his contacts and to monitor the investigation of Vincent’s murder as closely as possible. I wanted to know what moves the detectives were making because it appeared from what Bosch had said that the investigation was going to be entwined with the cases I had just inherited.
“Not much,” Cisco said. “The detectives haven’t even gotten back to Parker Center yet. I called a guy I know in forensics and they’re still processing everything. Not a lot of info on what they do have but he told me about something they don’t. Vincent was shot at least two times that they could tell at the scene. And there were no shells. The shooter cleaned up.”
There was something telling in that. The killer had either used a revolver or had had the presence of mind after killing a man to pick up the bullet casings ejected from his gun.
Cisco continued his report.
“I called another contact in communications and she told me the first call came in at twelve forty-three. They’ll narrow down time of death at autopsy.”
“Is there a general idea of what happened?”
“It looks like Vincent worked late, which was apparently his routine on Mondays. He worked late every Monday, preparing for the week ahead. When he was finished he packed his briefcase, locked up and left. He goes to the garage, gets in his car and gets popped through the driver’s side window. When they found him the car was in park, the ignition on. The window was down. It was in the low sixties last night. He could’ve put the window down because he liked the chill, or he could’ve lowered it for somebody coming to the car.”
“Somebody he knew.”
“That’s one possibility.”
I thought about this and what Detective Bosch had said.
“Nobody was working in the garage?”
“No, the attendant leaves at six. You have to put your money in the machine after that or use your monthly pass. Vincent had a monthly.”
“Cameras?”
“Only cameras are where you drive in and out. They’re license plate cameras so if somebody says they lost their ticket they can tell when the car went in, that sort of thing. But from what I hear from my guy in forensics, there was nothing on tape that was useful. The killer didn’t drive into the garage. He walked in either through the building or through one of the pedestrian entrances.”
“Who found Jerry?”
“The security guard. They got one guard for the building and the garage. He hits the garage a couple times a night and noticed Vincent’s car on his second sweep. The lights were on and it was running, so he checked it out. He thought Vincent was sleeping at first, then he saw the blood.”
I nodded, thinking about the scenario and how it had gone down. The killer was either incredibly careless and lucky or he knew the garage had no cameras and he would be able to intercept Jerry Vincent there on a Monday night when the space was almost deserted.
“Okay, stay on it. What about Harry Potter?”
“Who?”
“The detective. Not Potter. I mean—”
“Bosch. Harry Bosch. I’m working on that, too. Supposedly he’s one of the best. Retired a few years ago and the police chief himself recruited him back. Or so the story goes.”
Cisco referred to some notes on a pad.
“Full name is Hieronymus Bosch. He has a total of thirty-three years on the job and you know what that means.”
“No, what does it mean?”
“Well, under the LAPD’s pension program you max out at thirty years, meaning that you are eligible for retirement with full pension and
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