3

Bosch stepped out of the store into the sunlight. It was still warm though getting late in the day. The dry Santa Ana winds were passing through the city. Fires in the hills had put a pallor of smoke in the air. Bosch could feel the sweat drying on the back of his neck.

He was almost immediately met outside the door by a plainclothes detective.

“Detective Bosch?”

“That’s me.”

“Detective David Chu, AGU. Patrol called me down. How can I be of help?”

Chu was short and slightly built. There was no trace of an accent in his voice. Bosch signaled him to follow as he ducked back under the tape and headed to his car. He took off his suit jacket as he went. He took the matchbook out and put it in his pants pocket, then folded the jacket inside out and put it in a clean cardboard box he kept in the trunk of his work car.

“Hot in there,” he told Chu.

Bosch opened the middle button of his shirt and stuck his tie inside. He now planned to get fully involved in the crime scene investigation and didn’t want it to get in the way.

“Hot out here, too,” Chu said. “The patrol sergeant told me to wait until you came out.”

“Yeah, sorry about that. Okay, what we’ve got is, the old man who has run this store for a number of years is dead behind the counter. Shot at least three times in what looks like a robbery. His wife, who does not speak English, came into the store and found him. She called their son, who then called it in. We obviously need to interview her and that’s where you come in. We may also need help with the son when he gets here. That’s about all I know at the moment.”

“And we’re sure they’re Chinese?”

“Pretty sure. The patrol sergeant who made the call knew the victim, Mr. Li.”

“Do you know which dialect Mrs. Li speaks?”

They headed back to the tape.

“Nope. Is that going to be a problem?”

“I am familiar with the five main Chinese dialects and proficient in Cantonese and Mandarin. These are the two we most often encounter here in L.A.”

This time Bosch held the tape up for Chu so he could go back under.

“Which are you?”

“I was born here, Detective. But my family is from Hong Kong and I was raised speaking Mandarin at home.”

“Yeah? I have a kid who lives in Hong Kong with her mother. She’s getting good at Mandarin.”

“Good for her. I hope it will be useful to her.”

They entered the store and Bosch gave Chu a quick view of the body behind the counter and then walked him to the rear of the store. They were met by Ferras and then Chu was used to make introductions to Mrs. Li.

The newly widowed woman appeared to be in shock. Bosch saw no indication that she had shed a single tear for her husband so far. She seemed to be in a dissociated state that Bosch had seen before. Her husband was lying dead in the front of the store. She was surrounded by strangers who spoke a different language. Bosch guessed she was waiting for her son to arrive, and then the tears would fall.

Chu was gentle with her and conversational at first. Bosch believed that they were speaking Mandarin. His daughter had told him that Mandarin was more singsong and less guttural than Cantonese and some of the other dialects.

After a few minutes Chu broke away to report to Bosch and Ferras.

“Her husband was alone in the store while she went home to prepare their supper. When she came back she thought the store was empty. Then she found him behind the counter. She saw no one in the store when she came in. She parked in the back and used a key to open the back door.”

Bosch nodded.

“How long was she gone? Ask her what time it was when she left the store.”

Chu did as instructed and turned back to Bosch with the answer.

“She leaves at two-thirty every day to pick up the supper. Then she comes back.”

“Are there other employees?”

“No, I asked that already. Just her husband and Mrs. Li. They work every day eleven to ten. Closed Sundays.”

A typical immigrant story, Bosch thought. They just weren’t counting on the bullets coming at the end of it.

Bosch heard voices coming from the front of the store and ducked his head into the rear hallway. The forensics team from SID had arrived and were going to work.

He turned back into the storage room, where the interview with Mrs. Li was continuing.

“Chu,” Bosch interrupted.

The AGU detective looked up at him.

“Ask about the son. Was he at home when she called?”

“I already asked. There is another store. It’s in the Valley. He was working there. The family lives together in the middle. In the Wilshire District.”

It seemed clear to Bosch that Chu knew what he was doing. He didn’t need Bosch to prompt him with questions.

“Okay, we’re going back up front. You deal with her and after her son arrives it might be better to take everybody downtown. You okay with that?”

“I’m fine with it,” Chu said.

“Good. Tell me if you need anything.”

Bosch and Ferras went down the hall and to the front of the store. Bosch already knew everybody on the forensics team. A team from the medical examiner’s office had also arrived to document the death scene and collect the body.

Bosch and Ferras decided to split up at that point. Bosch would stay on scene. As lead detective he would monitor the collection of forensic evidence and the removal of the body. Ferras would leave the store and go knock on doors. The liquor store was located in a commercial area of small businesses. He would go door-to-door in an effort to find someone who had heard or seen something related to the killing. Both investigators knew this would likely be a fruitless effort but it was one that needed to be made. A description of a car or a suspicious person could be the piece of the puzzle that would eventually break the case. It was basic homicide work.

“All right if I take one of the patrol guys?” Ferras asked. “They know the neighborhood.”

“Sure.”

Bosch thought that knowing the lay of the land was not Ferras’s true reason for taking a patrol officer with him. His partner thought he needed backup to knock on doors and visit stores in the neighborhood.

Two minutes after Ferras left, Bosch heard loud voices and a commotion coming from outside at the front of the store. He stepped out and saw two of Lucas’s patrol officers trying to physically detain a man at the yellow tape. The struggling man was Asian and in his midtwenties. He wore a tight-fitting T-shirt that displayed his lean build. Bosch quickly stepped toward the problem.

“Okay, stop it right there,” he said forcefully so no one would doubt who was in charge of the situation.

“Let him go,” he added.

“I want to see my father,” the young man said.

“Well, that’s not the way to go about doing it.”

Bosch stepped closer and nodded to the two patrolmen.

“I’ll take care of Mr. Li now.”

They left Bosch and the victim’s son alone.

“What is your full name, Mr. Li?”

“Robert Li. I want to see my father.”

“I understand that. I’m going to let you see your father if you really want to. But you can’t until it’s clear. I’m the detective in charge of this whole thing and I can’t even see your father yet. So I need you to calm down. The only way you will get what you want is if you calm down.”

The young man looked down at the ground and nodded. Bosch reached out and touched him on the shoulder.

“Okay, good,” Bosch said.

“Where’s my mother?”

“She’s inside in the back room being interviewed by another detective.”

“Can I at least see her?”

“Yes, you can. I’ll walk you around back in a minute. I just need to ask you a few questions first. Is that okay?”

“Fine. Go ahead.”

“First of all, my name is Harry Bosch. I’m the lead detective on this investigation. I’m going to find whoever killed your father. I promise you that.”