Angle of Investigation

That is, until things went wrong, or private behavior became public.
    Just past Laurel Canyon Boulevard the hotel rose behind the profusion of billboards that lined Sunset. By night the hotel was marked with a simple neon-lit sign, modest by Sunset Strip standards, and even more so by day when the light was off. The hotel was technically located on Marmont Lane, which split off from Sunset and wound around the hotel and up into the hills. As they approached, Bosch saw that Marmont Lane was blocked by temporary barricades. Two patrol cars and two media trucks were parked along the hedge line at the front of the hotel. This told him that the death scene was on the west side or rear of the hotel. He pulled in behind one of the black and whites.
    “The vultures are already here,” Chu said, nodding toward the media vans.
    It was impossible to keep a secret in this town, especially a secret like this. A neighbor would call, a hotel guest or a patrol officer, maybe somebody down at the coroner’s office trying to impress a blond TV reporter. News traveled fast.
    They got out of the car and approached the barricades. Bosch signaled one of the uniformed officers away from the two camera crews so they could speak without the media hearing.
    “Where is it?” Bosch asked.ricBosch a
    The cop looked like he had at least ten years on the job. His shirt plate said R AMPONE.
    “We have two scenes,” he said. “We’ve got the splat around back here on the side. And then the room the guy was using. That’s the top floor, room seventy-nine.”
    It was the routine way of police officers to dehumanize the daily horrors that came with the job. Jumpers were called splats.
    Bosch had left his rover in the car. He nodded to the mike on Rampone’s shoulder.
    “Find out where Glanville and Solomon are.”
    Rampone cocked his head toward his shoulder and pressed the transmit button. He quickly located the initial investigative team in room seventy-nine.
    “Okay, tell them to stay put. We’re going to check out the lower scene and then head up.”
    Bosch went back to his car to grab the rover out of the charging dock and then walked with Chu around the barricade and up the sidewalk.
    “Harry, you want me to go up and talk to those guys?” Chu asked.
    “No, it always starts with the body and goes from there. Always.”
    Chu was used to working cold cases, where there was never a crime scene. Only reports. Also, he had issues with seeing dead bodies. It was the reason he’d opted for the cold case squad. No fresh kills, no murder scenes, no autopsies. This time things would be different.
    Marmont Lane was a steep and narrow road. They came to the death scene at the northwestern corner of the hotel. The forensic team had put up a canopy over the scene to guard against visual intrusion from media choppers and the houses that terraced the hills behind the hotel.
    Before stepping under the canopy Bosch looked up the side of the hotel. He saw a man in a suit leaning over the parapet, looking down from a balcony on the top floor. He guessed it was Glanville or Solomon.
    Bosch went under the canopy and found a bustle of activities involving forensic techs, coroner’s investigators and police photographers. At the center of it all was Gabriel Van Atta, whom Bosch had known for years. Van Atta had spent twenty-five years working for the LAPD as a crime scene tech and supervisor before retiring and taking a job with the coroner. Now he got a salary and a pension and still worked crime scenes. That counted as a break for Bosch. He knew that Van Atta wouldn’t be cagey about anything. He would tell Harry exactly what he thought.
    Bosch and Chu stood under the canopy but stayed on the periphery. The scene belonged to the techs at the moment. Bosch noted that the body had been turned over and that they were far along. The body would soon be removed and transported to the medical examiner’s office. This bothered him but it was tg dbut it he cost of coming into a case so late.
    The gruesome extent of the injuries from seven floors of gravity were on full display. Bosch could almost feel his partner’s revulsion at the sight. Harry decided to give him a break.
    “Tell you what, I’ll handle this and meet you upstairs.”
    “Really?”
    “Really. But you’re not getting out of the autopsy.”
    “That’s a deal, Harry.”
    The conversation had drawn Van Atta’s attention.
    “Harry B,” he said. “I thought you were still working