Echo Park

tell by her reserved comments that she was not convinced by his description of the trail he had found in Beachwood Canyon. But when he showed her the timeline he had worked up, she readily agreed with his conclusions about the killer’s changing of ID after the Fitzpatrick murder. She also agreed that, while they didn’t have the killer’s real name, they might have his real birth date.
    Bosch looked down at the two plastic cartons on the floor.
    “Then I guess it’s worth the shot,” he said.
    She leaned to the side so she could see what he was looking at.
    “What are those?”
    “Pawn slips mostly. All the records salvaged after the fire. Back in ’ninety-two they were all wet. They dropped them in these boxes and forgot about them. Nobody’s ever looked through them all.”
    “Is that what we’re doing tonight, Harry?”
    He looked up at her and smiled. He nodded.
    After they were finished eating they decided that they would take a carton each. Bosch suggested that they take them out onto the back deck because of the musty smell that would come from the cartons once they were opened. Rachel readily agreed. Bosch lugged the cartons out and then got two empty cardboard boxes from the carport. They sat down in deck chairs and began the work.
    Taped to the top of the carton Bosch chose was a 3 × 5 card that said MAIN FILE CABINET . Bosch took the top off and used it to try to wave away the fumes that came out. The carton contained mostly pink pawn slips and 3 × 5 cards that had been haphazardly put in the container as if with a shovel. There was nothing ordered or neat about the records.
    Water damage was high. Many of the slips had stuck together while wet, and the ink on others was smeared and unreadable. Bosch looked over at Rachel and saw her dealing with the same issues.
    “This is bad, Harry,” she said.
    “I know. Just do the best you can. It might be our last hope.”
    There was no way to begin but simply to dig in. Bosch pulled out a wad of slips, brought them up to his lap and started going through them, attempting to make out the name, address and birth date of each customer who had pawned something through Fitzpatrick. Each time he looked at a slip, he checked the top corner with a red pencil from the dining room table drawer and dropped it into the cardboard box on the other side of his chair.
    They were at it a solid half hour, working without conversation, when Bosch heard the phone in the kitchen ring. He thought about letting it go but knew it might be a call from Hong Kong. He got up.
    “I didn’t even know you had a landline,” Walling said.
    “Not many people do.”
    He grabbed the phone on the eighth ring. It wasn’t his daughter. It was Abel Pratt.
    “Just checking on you,” he said. “I figure if I get you on the house line and you say you are home, then you’re really home.”
    “What, am I under house arrest now?”
    “No, Harry, I’m just worried about you, that’s all.”
    “Look, there will be no blowback from me, okay? But home duty does not mean I have to be at home twenty-four-seven. I checked with the union.”
    “I know, I know. But it does mean you do not take part in any job-related investigation.”
    “Fine.”
    “What are you doing, then?”
    “I’m sitting on the back deck with a friend. We’re having a beer and enjoying the night air. Is that okay with you, Top?”
    “Anybody I know?”
    “I doubt it. She doesn’t like cops.”
    Pratt laughed and it seemed that Bosch had finally put him at ease about what he was doing.
    “Then, I’ll let you get back to it. Have a good one, Harry.”
    “I will if I can stay off the phone. I’ll call in tomorrow.”
    “I’ll be there.”
    “And I’ll be here. Good night.”
    He hung up, checked the refrigerator for hidden or lost beers and returned to the deck empty-handed. Rachel was waiting for him with a smile on her face and a water-stained 3 × 5 card in her hand. Attached to it with a paper clip was a pink pawn slip.
    “Got it,” she said.
    She handed it to him and Bosch stepped back inside the house, where the lighting was better. He read the card first. It was written on with blue ink that was partially smeared by water but still legible.

    Unsatisfied Customer—02/12/92
    Customer complained that property was sold before 90-day pawn period expired. Shown pawn slip and corrected. Customer complained that 90 days should not have included weekends and holidays. Cursed/slammed door.
    DGF

    The