“There’s a black leather glove under the case. I don’t know if it’s a match but it is a glove.”

Bosch got down on his hands and knees so he could look underneath the display case. He reached under and pulled out the glove.

“Looks the same,” he said.

“If it does not fit, you must acquit,” said Edgar.

Bosch looked at him.

“Johnnie Cochran,” Edgar said. “You know, the O.J. gloves.”

“Right.”

Bosch stood up. One of his knees made a popping sound as he did so. He looked into the case. It contained two shelves lighted from inside. On the shelves were non-jewelry items of what appeared to be high value. There were coins and some small jade sculptures, gold and silver pillboxes, cigarette cases and other ornate and bejeweled trinkets. It was high-end stuff. Most of the coins, Bosch noticed, were Russian.

Bosch stepped away from the case and surveyed the shop. Other than the two display cases there was mostly junk, the property of financially desperate people willing to part with almost anything in exchange for cash.

“Brax,” Bosch said. “Where’s the entry?”

Braxton signaled him toward the back and led the way. Bosch and Edgar followed. They came to a rear room that was used as an office and for storage. Gravel and other debris were scattered on the floor. They all looked up. There was a hole roughly cut in the ceiling. It was two feet wide and there was blue sky above.

“It’s a composite roof,” Braxton said. “No big thing cutting through. A half hour maybe.”

“It would make noise,” Edgar said. “Anybody know when the porno palace closes?”

“I remember I checked one of the other times this place was hit,” Braxton said. “He closes at four, reopens at eight. Four-hour window.”

“The roof the entry point in the other three hits?” Bosch asked.

Braxton shook his head.

“He hit the back door the first two times and then the roof. This is the second time through the roof.”