"9 Dragons" - читать интересную книгу автора (Connelly Michael)

4

The detectives didn’t clear the crime scene and get back to the squad room until almost midnight. By then Bosch had decided not to bring the victim’s family to PAB for formal interviews. After appointments were made for them to come in Wednesday morning, he let them go home to grieve. Shortly after getting back to the squad Bosch also sent Ferras home so he could attempt to repair damages with his own family. Harry stayed behind alone to organize the evidence inventory and to contemplate things about the case for the first time without interruption. He knew that Wednesday was shaping up as a busy day, with appointments with the family in the morning and results of some of the forensic and lab work coming in, as well as the possible scheduling of the autopsy.

While the canvass of the nearby businesses by Ferras had proved fruitless as expected, the evening’s work had produced one possible suspect. On Saturday afternoon, three days before his murder, Mr. Li had confronted a young man he believed had been routinely shoplifting from the store. According to Mrs. Li and as translated by Detective Chu, the teenager had angrily denied ever stealing anything and drew the race card, claiming Mr. Li had only accused him because he was black. This seemed laughable, since ninety-nine percent of the store’s business came from neighborhood residents who were black. But Li did not call the police. He simply banished the teenager from the store, telling him never to return. Mrs. Li told Chu that the teen’s parting shot at the door was to tell her husband that the next time he came back it would be to blow the shopkeeper’s head off. Li in turn had pulled his weapon from beneath the counter and pointed it at the youth, assuring him that he would be ready for his return.

This meant the teenager was aware of the weapon Li had beneath the counter. If he were to make good on his threat, he would have to enter the store and act swiftly, shooting Li before he could get to his gun.

Mrs. Li would look through gang books in the morning in an effort to find a photo of the threatening youth. If he was associated with the Hoover Street Criminals, then chances were they had his photo in the books.

But Bosch wasn’t fully convinced it was a viable lead or that the kid was a valid suspect. There were things about the crime scene that didn’t add up to a revenge killing. There was no doubt that they had to run the lead down and talk to the kid but Bosch wasn’t expecting to close the case with him. That would be too easy and there were things about the case that defied easy.

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 where 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.