The Brass Verdict

no shells. The shooter cleaned up.”
    There was something telling in that. The killer had either used a revolver or had had the presence of mind after killing a man to pick up the bullet casings ejected from his gun.
    Cisco continued his report.
    “I called another contact in communications and she told me the first call came in at twelve forty-three. They’ll narrow down time of death at autopsy.”
    “Is there a general idea of what happened?”
    “It looks like Vincent worked late, which was apparently his routine on Mondays. He worked late every Monday, preparing for the week ahead. When he was finished he packed his briefcase, locked up and left. He goes to the garage, gets in his car and gets popped through the driver’s side window. When they found him the car was in park, the ignition on. The window was down. It was in the low sixties last night. He could’ve put the window down because he liked the chill, or he could’ve lowered it for somebody coming to the car.”
    “Somebody he knew.”
    “That’s one possibility.”
    I thought about this and what Detective Bosch had said.
    “Nobody was working in the garage?”
    “No, the attendant leaves at six. You have to put your money in the machine after that or use your monthly pass. Vincent had a monthly.”
    “Cameras?”
    “Only cameras are where you drive in and out. They’re license plate cameras so if somebody says they lost their ticket they can tell when the car went in, that sort of thing. But from what I hear from my guy in forensics, there was nothing on tape that was useful. The killer didn’t drive into the garage. He walked in either through the building or through one of the pedestrian entrances.”
    “Who found Jerry?”
    “The security guard. They got one guard for the building and the garage. He hits the garage a couple times a night and noticed Vincent’s car on his second sweep. The lights were on and it was running, so he checked it out. He thought Vincent was sleeping at first, then he saw the blood.”
    I nodded, thinking about the scenario and how it had gone down. The killer was either incredibly careless and lucky or he knew the garage had no cameras and he would be able to intercept Jerry Vincent there on a Monday night when the space was almost deserted.
    “Okay, stay on it. What about Harry Potter?”
    “Who?”
    “The detective. Not Potter. I mean-”
    “Bosch. Harry Bosch. I’m working on that, too. Supposedly he’s one of the best. Retired a few years ago and the police chief himself recruited him back. Or so the story goes.”
    Cisco referred to some notes on a pad.
    “Full name is Hieronymus Bosch. He has a total of thirty-three years on the job and you know what that means.”
    “No, what does it mean?”
    “Well, under the LAPD’s pension program you max out at thirty years, meaning that you are eligible for retirement with full pension and no matter how long you stay on the job, after thirty years your pension doesn’t grow. So it makes no economic sense to stay.”
    “Unless you’re a man on a mission.”
    Cisco nodded.
    “Exactly. Anybody who stays past thirty isn’t staying for the money or the job. It’s more than a job.”
    “Wait a second,” I said. “You said Hieronymus Bosch? Like the painter?”
    The second question confused him.
    “I don’t know anything about any painter. But that’s his name. Rhymes with ‘anonymous,’ I was told. Weird name, if you ask me.”
    “No weirder than Wojciechowski – if you ask me.”
    Cisco was about to defend his name and heritage when Lorna cut in.
    “I thought you said you didn’t know him, Mickey.”
    I looked over at her and shook my head.
    “I never met him before today but the name… I know the name.”
    “You mean from the paintings?”
    I didn’t want to get into a discussion of past history so distant I couldn’t be sure about it.
    “Never mind,” I said. “It’s nothing and I’ve got to get going.”
    I stood up.
    “Cisco, stay on the case and find out what you can about Bosch. I want to know how much I can trust the guy.”
    “You’re not going to let him look at the files, are you?” Lorna asked.
    “This wasn’t a random crime. There’s a killer out there who knew how to get to Jerry Vincent. I’ll feel a lot better about things if our man with a mission can figure it out and bring the bad guy in.”
    I stepped around the desk and headed toward the door.
    “I’ll be in Judge Champagne’s court. I’m