The third report was the same, with the exception of the method of entry. This time, with the back door fortified, the burglar or burglars cut through the composite roof and dropped down. The lock on the display case was picked and the shelves emptied for the third time.

The losses from the three burglaries averaged out to $40,000 a hit. Servan had insurance-though Bosch assumed the premiums were ever increasing. Most of the items stolen were sale items, meaning their original owners had let the pawn period lapse and ownership now belonged to Servan.

Braxton walked out of the back hallway and came to the homicide table.

“Yeah, he recognizes him,” he said. “Said he came into the store a couple days ago. Looked at some of the coins in the case.”

“He ever see him before that?”

“He thinks so but can’t be sure.”

“Anybody else work in that shop besides him?”

“No, he’s a one-man show. Six days a week, nine to six. Your average hardworking immigrant story.”

Bosch leaned back in his chair and combed one side of his mustache with his thumb. He didn’t say anything. After a few moments Braxton got tired of waiting.

“Harry, what else you need from me?”

Bosch didn’t look up at him.

“Um, can you go back in there and ask him about the case?”

“The case? You mean the display cabinet?”

“Yeah, ask him if he’s sure he locked it every time. On all the burglaries.”

He could tell Braxton was still waiting by the table.

“What?”

“What am I? The errand boy here?”

“No, Brax, you’re the guy he trusts. Go ask him the question.”

Bosch waited, stroking his mustache and thinking. Braxton wasn’t long.

“He said he absolutely locks that case. Even when he’s open for business it’s locked. He only unlocks it to put something in or take something out. Then he relocks it, every time. He keeps the key with him, all the time. There are no copies.”