Bosch turned and saw the SID photographer standing behind him. It was Mark Baron. They had worked many crime scenes together. Baron gestured toward his camera.

“I haven’t shot any of that yet,” he said. “I don’t want it moved.”

“Okay, hold on a second.”

Bosch stooped down so he could look beneath the table. It had no drawers but there was a single shelf and it held a stack of People magazines. There was nothing on the rug beneath the table. He got down on his knees and lifted the bed skirt. There was a pair of slippers under the bed but nothing else.

Bosch got up and stepped back to let Baron get close to take his shots. He walked back to Fulton.

“Who found her?”

“The landlord. He said he got a call from her agent and then another call from her acting coach. They were worried about her. She missed a big audition or something today. The landlord has a passkey and came in. He said the coach was very convincing.”

“Was she on display like that or covered?”

“She was covered. The coroner’s people did that.”

Bosch nodded.

“Where’s the landlord?”

“He went back to his place. He lives on-site. He was looking pretty pale.”

“Get him.”

“This is pretty simple, right? We’re all going to get out of here in a few minutes, right?”

Bosch looked at Fulton. Even she wanted to turn pumpkin at midnight.

“Just get the landlord, please.”

Fulton left and Bosch went over to the bureau, where Edgar was looking through the contents of the top drawer. There were several different photos. There was a stack of 8x10 glossies that showed a collage featuring Lizbeth Grayson in varying poses and costumes. No matter what she was wearing or what the facial pose was, it was impossible to hide her beauty in character. Bosch imagined that it opened some doors but kept others closed. She would never have been taken seriously as an actress with that face.

“Man, this girl had it all going for her,” Edgar said. “Why’d she want to go and waste it all?”