The Concrete Blonde (hb-3)

Locke said without opening his eyes.
    Bosch got Amado’s phone number from the task force list in the binder and called him. He could tell he had awakened the coroner’s analyst.
    After identifying himself, Bosch said, “Sorry to wake you. But things are happening very quickly on this new Dollmaker case. Did you read about it in the paper?”
    “Yeah. But they said it wasn’t known for sure if it was the Dollmaker.”
    “Right. That’s what I’m working on. I have a question.”
    “Go ahead.”
    “You testified yesterday about the rape kits taken from each victim. Where are they now? The evidence, I mean.”
    There was a long silence before Amado said, “They’re probably still in evidence storage. The coroner’s policy is to keep evidence seven years after resolution of a case. You know, in case of appeals or something. Now, since your perp is dead, there would be no reason to keep the stuff even that long. But it takes an order from the medical examiner to clear out an evidence locker. The chances are the ME at the time would not have thought or remembered to do this after you, uh, killed Church. It’s too big of a bureaucracy to run that well. My guess is the kits would still be there. The evidence custodian would only request a disposal order after seven years.”
    “Okay,” Bosch said, excitement evident in his voice. “What about the condition? Would it still be usable as evidence? And for analysis?”
    “Should be no deterioration, I would think.”
    “How full’s your plate?”
    “It’s always full. But you’ve got me hooked here. What’s up?”
    “I need someone to pull the kits from victims seven and eleven. That’s Nicole Knapp and Shirleen Kemp. Got it? Seven and eleven, like the store.”
    “I got it. Seven eleven. Then what?”
    “Cross—reference the pubic combs. Look for the same foreign hair in both places, on both women. How long will it take?”
    “Three, four days. We have to send that to the DOJ lab. I can put a rush on it, maybe get it sooner. Can I ask you something? Why are we doing this?”
    “I think there was someone else besides Church. A copycat. He did seven, eleven and the one this week. And I’m thinking he might not have been smart enough to shave himself like Church. If you find similar hair in the combs, I think that will clinch it.”
    “Well, I can tell you something right off that is interesting about those two. Seven and eleven.”
    Bosch waited.
    “I reviewed everything before I testified, so it’s still fresh, you know? Remember I testified that two of the victims had extreme damage, vaginal tears? Well, it was those two, seven and eleven.”
    Bosch thought about this for a few moments. From out in the dining room he heard Locke say, “Harry?”
    “Be right there,” he called out. To Amado, he said, “That’s interesting.”
    “It means this second guy, whoever he is, he’s rougher trade than Church. Those two women were hurt the most.”
    Something came together in Bosch’s mind then. Something that had not seemed right about Amado’s testimony the day before. Now it was clear.
    “The condoms,” he said.
    “What about them?”
    “You testified that it was a box of twelve, only three left.”
    “That’s right! Nine used. You subtract victims seven and eleven from the list and you have nine victims. It fits, Harry. Okay, first thing tomorrow, I’m on this. Give me three days, max.”
    They hung up and Bosch wondered if Amado would get any sleep tonight.
    Locke had replenished his wineglass but still did not ask Bosch if he wanted a glass when he returned to the dining room. Bosch sat down across the table from him.
    “I’m ready to go on,” Locke said.
    “Let’s do it.”
    “You’re saying that the body found this week exhibited every known detail ascribed to the Dollmaker?”
    “Right.”
    “Except now we have a new method of disposal. A private disposal as opposed to the public challenge of the others. It’s all very interesting. What else?”
    “Well, from trial testimony I think we can eliminate Church as the perp in the eleventh killing. A wit produced a tape in-”
    “A wit?”
    “A witness. In court. He was a friend of Church’s. He came in with a video that showed Church at a party at the time number eleven got abducted. The tape is convincing.”
    Locke nodded his head and was silent. At least he didn’t close his eyes, Bosch thought. The psychologist thoughtfully rubbed the graying whiskers on his chin,