He came out of the memory and walked over to a shelf that ran above the row of file cabinets. He took down one of the forensics manuals and turned to the index. He found what he wanted and went to the page. He was sitting down, reading the manual, when his cell phone chirped and he dug it out of his pocket. It was Edgar.

“Harry, they’re about to clear here. You want me to come in?”

“Not yet.”

“Well, what are we doing?”

“There was nothing with the body, right? No tools, no picks?”

“That’s right. I already told you.”

“I just read through the reports from the three priors. That display case was hit each time. It was picked. Servan said it was always locked.”

“Well, we got no lock picks here, Harry. I guess whoever moved the body took the picks.”

“It was Servan.”

Edgar was quiet and then said, “Why don’t you run it down for me, Harry.”

Bosch thought for a moment before speaking.

“He’d been hit three times in two years. Every time the high-end case was picked. It’s hard to work a set of picks with gloves on. Servan probably knew that the one time this guy took off his gloves was to work the picks. Steel picks going into a steel lock.”

“If he put a hundred ten volts into that lock, it could’ve shut this guy’s heart down.”

“Not necessarily. I’ve been sitting here reading one of the manuals. One-ten can stop your heart, but it all depends on the amps. There’s a formula. It has to do with resistance to the charge. You know, like dry skin versus moist skin, things like that.”

“This guy just took his glove off. He probably had sweaty hands.”