“She was in the newspapers, too,” Edgar tried.

“I read the papers from time to time,” Kay said. “I get them out of the recycle bins downstairs. They’re usually old by the time I see them. But I didn’t see any story about her.”

“She went missing ten days ago,” Bosch said. “That would have been Thursday the ninth. You remember anything from back then? Anything unusual around here?”

Kay shook his head.

“I wasn’t here. I was on vacation in Italy.”

Bosch smiled.

“I love Italy. Where’d you go?”

Kay’s face brightened.

“I went up to Lake Como and then over to a small hill town called Asolo. It’s where Robert Browning lived.”

Bosch nodded like he knew the places and knew who Robert Browning was.

“We’ve got company,” Edgar said.

Bosch followed his partner’s gaze down to the cul-de-sac. A television truck with a satellite dish on top and a big number 9 painted on the side had pulled up to the yellow tape. One of the patrol officers was walking toward it.

Harry looked back at the landlord.

“Mr. Kay, we’ll need to talk more later. If you can, see what numbers or names you can find of people who looked at or called about the apartment. We’ll also need to talk to the person who handled things while you were in Italy and get the name and forwarding address of the former tenant who moved back to Texas.”

“No problem.”

“And we’re going to need to talk to the rest of the tenants to see if anybody saw that car being dropped off in the garage. We will try not to be too intrusive.”

“No problem with any of that. I’ll see what I can dig up on the numbers.”

They left the apartment and walked with Kay back to the elevator. They said good-bye to the manager and went down, the steel cube lurching again before smoothing out on the descent.

“Harry, I didn’t know you love Italy,” Edgar said.