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.”