
“What I don’t get,” his partner said, “is how the hell did you smell that at the front door?”
Bosch shrugged.
“Used to it, I guess.”
He nodded toward the west, as if the war had been just down the street.
“I guess that also explains why you’re not puking your guts out,” Eckersly said. “Like most rookies would be doing right now.”
“I guess so.”
“You know what, Bosch. Maybe you’ve got a nose for this stuff.”
“Maybe I do.”
NOW
Harry Bosch and his partner, Kiz Rider, shared an alcove in the back corner of the Open-Unsolved Unit in Parker Center. Their desks were pushed together so they could face each other and discuss case matters without having to talk loudly and bother the six other detectives in the squad. Rider was writing on her laptop, entering the completion and summary reports on the Verloren case. Bosch was reading through the dusty pages of a blue binder known as a murder book.
“Anything?” Rider asked without looking up from her screen.
Bosch was reviewing the murder book since it was the next case they would work together. He hadn’t chosen it at random. It involved the 1972 slaying of June Wilkins. Bosch had been a patrolman then and had been on the job only two days when he and his partner at the time had discovered the body of the murdered woman in her bathtub. Along with the body of her dog. Both had been held underwater and drowned.
There were thousands of unsolved murders in the files of the Los Angeles Police Department. To justify the time and cost of mounting a new investigation, there had to be a hook. Something that could be sent through the forensic databases in search of a match: fingerprints, ballistics, DNA. That was what Rider was asking. Had he found a hook?
“Not yet,” he answered.
“Then why don’t you quit fooling with it and skip to the back?”
She wanted him to skip to the evidence report in the back of the binder and see if there was anything that could fit the bill.
