“So how did this guy die?”

The question was rhetorical but he looked up at Servan just as he said it. It seemed to take the shop owner by surprise, as if he had been accused of something. Servan spread his hands and shook his head.

“I don’t know this,” he said. “I come to shop, unlock, he is dead right there.”

Bosch nodded and looked around the counter area. He noticed Edgar was no longer there. He looked at Braxton.

“Brax, why don’t you take Mr. Servan to one of the patrol cars so we can work in here.”

While Braxton took Servan outside, Bosch went back to the body and continued his examination. He lifted the bare hand and studied it, trying to figure out why there was no glove. He noticed a discoloration on the pad of the thumb. A brownish yellow line. There was a matching line of discoloration on the index finger. Using both hands he placed the thumb and finger together, aligning the two marks. It appeared as though the hand-the right hand-had been holding a pen or some other thin instrument when the marks had been made.

Bosch carefully placed the hand on the floor and moved down the body to the feet. He removed the right shoe, a black leather athletic shoe with a black rubber sole, and peeled off the black sock. On the ball of the dead man’s foot was a circular discoloration that was brown at its center, tapering outward in yellow.

“Whadaya got, Harry?”

Bosch looked up. It was Braxton.

“I’m not sure yet. You see a glove? The guy’s missing a glove.”

“Over here.”

It was Edgar. He was behind another display case on the other side ofustther si the shop. Bosch stood up and walked over. Edgar crouched and pointed beneath the case.