stay away from the squad. The ex-mayor’s reward has already hit the media sites and the calls are coming in. I want to work the case, not the phones.”
Bosch pulled into the parking lot outside the crime lab building and started looking for an open slot.
“But what if we get the right call?”
“It’s a million to one, you ask me. But if someone really can deliver the shooter, they’ll get to us. Anyway, right now I have all the calls going to Samuels. Maybe that will light a fire and get him to put somebody on the calls so we can work the case.”
“Okay, so what time do you want me to set up the ballistics trajectory for tomorrow?”
Bosch had forgotten about that. Now he thought it might be too soon.
“I want to hold off on that now. Let’s see what they come up with in video. It might help set the trajectory.”
“Okay. Where do you want me to go now?”
“Give me thirty minutes and meet me at Mariachi Plaza. Let’s see if the media’s left the place alone.”
“That’ll give me time to hit Starbucks. You want something?”
Bosch thought a moment about his caffeine level.
“No, I’m good. I’ll just see you there.”
Bosch parked and got out. While he was walking toward the glass doors of the lab building, his phone rang again. It was Lieutenant Samuels.
“Bosch, where the hell are you?”
“About to go into the lab—I wrote it on the board. What’s up?”
“What’s up is the phone is starting to go crazy with tip calls.”
“What do you want me to do about it, L-T? I’m working the case. I’ve got two stops in the lab here and then I’m meeting my partner at the crime scene. I told you this was going to happen.”
“Where’s Lucky Lucy right now?”
“She has her psych session on Wednesday afternoons. Anything good coming in?”
“How the hell should I know? You set this up, Bosch!”
“I didn’t set up anything. I didn’t want any reward put out there in the first place. I knew—”
“Never mind. I’ll put someone on the phones. Starting tomorrow morning.”
Samuels hung up before Bosch could respond. But he was smiling when he pushed through the doors to the crime lab.
8
Lucia Soto was already at Mariachi Plaza when Bosch got there. There was no obvious sign that anybody from the media was still on the scene. Bosch crossed the plaza, taking it all in. It was beginning to get crowded with musicians hoping to pick up evening gigs. The sidewalk parking spaces running along Boyle Avenue were bumper to bumper with vans brightly painted with the names and phone numbers of bands. The benches and tables in the plaza were all occupied.
Soto was talking to three men squeezed onto a single bench, their instruments in cases at their feet. They were wearing matching black half coats with gold brocade and white blouses with string ties. Bosch nodded to them as he joined his partner. Soto was holding some kind of iced-coffee drink with whipped cream at the top.
“Harry, these men were here the day Merced was shot,” Soto said excitedly.
“What do they remember?” he asked.
“They were sitting right here. They jumped up and went behind the statue when they heard the shot.”
Bosch looked behind the bench at the bronze statue of a woman, hands on her hips, wearing a shawl over a patterned dress. The statue was on a large concrete-and-wooden pedestal. The plaque on the base of the statue identified the woman as Lucha Reyes, the queen of the mariachis, who lived and performed in L.A. in the 1920s. She was from Guadalajara.
“Were they interviewed at the time?”
Soto spoke to the men in Spanish and then translated their answers to Bosch even though he understood a lot of what was said.
“Yes, they gave statements.”
Bosch nodded but he could not remember any of the statements from the murder book involving witnesses reporting that they had used the statue for cover. They had probably been left out as inconsequential.
“Ask them to show us where they hid by the statue.”
Soto asked the men, and one got up and went to the statue. He crouched down, put his hands on the pedestal, and acted like he was looking around the legs of the statue to see who was shooting. He was looking toward Boyle Avenue.
Bosch nodded again as he tried to see it the way it was that day.
“What made them think the shot came from over there?” he asked, pointing.