Bosch looked back at his old partner, ready for the rest of the report.

“The patrol car swings around about eleven and sees the Porsche with the hood open. Engine’s in the back of those Porsches, Harry. It means the trunk was open.”

“Got it.”

“Okay, so you knew that already. Anyway, the patrol car pulls up, they don’t see anybody in or around the Porsche, so the two officers get out. One of them walks out into the clearing and finds our guy. He’s facedown and has two in the back of the head. An execution, clean and simple.”

Bosch nodded at the ID tag in the evidence bag.

“And this is the guy, Stanley Kent?”

“Looks that way. The tag and the wallet both say he’s Stanley Kent, forty-two years old from just around the corner on Arrowhead Drive. We ran the plate on the Porsche and it comes back to a business called K and K Medical Physicists. I just ran Kent through the box and he came up pretty clean. He’s got a few speeding tickets on the Porsche but that’s it. A straight shooter.”

Bosch nodded as he registered all the information.

“You are going to get no grief from me, taking over this case, Harry,” Edgar said. “I got one partner in court this month and I left my other one at the first scene we caught today-a three-bagger with a fourth victim on life support at Queen of Angels.”

Bosch remembered that Hollywood ran its homicide squad in three-man teams instead of the traditional partnerships.

“Any chance the three-bagger is connected to this?”

He pointed to the gathering of technicians around the body on the overlook.

“No, that’s a straight gang shoot-’em-up,” Edgar said. “I think this thing is a whole different ball game and I’m happy for you to take it.”

“Good,” Bosch said. “I’ll cut you loose as soon as I can. Anybody look in the car yet?”

“Not really. Waiting on you.”