“How?”

“The second victim, the woman. The shot was through and through. The slug hit a steel window bracket behind her, flattened and fell on the floor. It’s too mashed for comparison but you can still tell it was a nine. Hoffman said if he was guessing he’d say it was a Federal. You’ll have to hope for better lead from the autopsies as far as ballistics go. If you ever get that far.”

Perfect, Bosch thought. Nine was a cop’s caliber. And stopping to pick up the shells, that was a smooth move. You didn’t usually see that.

“The way they see it,” Garwood continued, “Elias got it just after he stepped onto the train down there. The guy comes up and shoots him in the ass first.”

“The ass?” Edgar said.

“That’s right. The first shot is in the ass. See, Elias is just stepping on so he’s a couple steps up from the sidewalk level. The shooter comes up from behind and holds the gun out – it’s at ass level. He sticks the muzzle in there and fires off the first cap.”

“Then what?” Bosch asked.

“Well, we think Elias goes down and sort of turns to see who it is. He raises his hands but the shooter fires again. The slug goes through one of his hands and hits him in the face, right between the eyes. That’s probably your cause-of-death shot right there. Elias drops back down. He’s facedown now. The shooter steps into the car and puts one more in the back of his head, point-blank. He then looks up and sees the woman, maybe for the first time. He hits her from about twelve feet. One in the chest, through and through, and she’s gone. No witness. The shooter gets the wallet and watch off Elias, picks up his shells and is gone. A few minutes later Peete brings the car up and finds the bodies. You now know what I know.”

Bosch and his partners were quiet a long moment. The scenario Garwood had woven didn’t sit right with Bosch but he didn’t know enough about the crime scene yet to challenge him on it.

“The robbery look legit?” Bosch finally asked.

“It did to me. I know the people down south aren’t going to want to hear that but there it is.”

Rider and Edgar were silent stones.

“What about the woman?” Bosch asked. “Was she robbed?”

“Doesn’t look like it. I kind of think the shooter didn’t want to come onto the train. Anyway, the lawyer was the one in the thousand-dollar suit. He’d be the target.”

“What about Peete? Did he hear the shots, a scream, anything?”

“He says no. He says the generator for the electric is right below the floor here. Sounds like an elevator running all day long so he wears earplugs. He never heard anything.”

Bosch stepped around the cable wheels and looked at the train operator’s station. For the first time he saw that mounted above the cash register was a small video display box with a split screen showing four camera views of Angels Flight – from a camera in each of the train cars and from above each terminus. On one corner of the screen he could see a long shot of the inside of Olivet. The crime scene techs were still working with the bodies.

Garwood came around the other side of the cable wheels.

“No luck there,” he said. “The cameras are live only, no tape. They are so the operator can check to make sure everyone is aboard and seated before starting the train.”

“Did he – ”

“He didn’t look,” Garwood said, knowing Bosch’s questions. “He just checked through the window, thought the car was empty and brought it up so he could lock it up.”

“Where is he?”

“At Parker. Our offices. I guess you’ll have to come over and talk to him for yourself. I’ll keep somebody with him until you make it by.”

“Any other witnesses?”

“Not a one. Eleven o’clock at night down here, the place is pretty dead. The Grand Central Market closes up at seven. There’s nothing else down there except some office buildings. A couple of my guys were getting ready to go into those apartments next door here to knock on doors. But then they got the ID and sort of backed away.”

Bosch paced around in a small area of the room and thought. Very little had been done so far and the discovery of the murders was already four hours old. This bothered him even though he understood the reason behind the delay.

“Why was Elias on Angels Flight?” he asked Garwood. “They figure that out before backing away?”

“Well, he must’ve wanted to go up the hill, don’t you think?”

“Come on, Captain, if you know, why not save us the time?”

“We don’t know, Harry. We ran a DMV check, he lives out in Baldwin Hills. That’s a long way from Bunker Hill. I don’t know why he was coming up here.”

“What about where he was coming from?”

“That’s a little easier. Elias’s office is just over on Third. In the Bradbury Building. He was probably coming from there. But where he was going…”

“Okay, then what about the woman?”

“She’s a blank. My guys hadn’t even started with her when we were told to pull back.”

Garwood dropped his cigarette to the floor and crushed it with his heel. Bosch took it as a signal that the briefing was about over. He decided to see if he could get a rise out of him.

“You pissed off, Captain?”

“About what?”

“About being pulled off. About your people being on the suspect list.”

A small smile played on Garwood’s thin lips.

“No, I’m not angry. I see the chief’s point.”

“Are your people going to cooperate with us on this?”

After some hesitation Garwood nodded.

“Of course. The quicker they cooperate, the quicker you will clear them.”

“And you’ll tell them that?”

“That’s exactly what I’ll tell them.”

“We appreciate that, Captain. Tell me, which one of your people do you think could have done this?”

The lips curled into a full smile now. Bosch studied Garwood’s cigarette-yellowed teeth and for a moment was glad he was trying to quit.

“You’re a clever guy, Harry. I remember that.”

He said nothing else.

“Thanks, Captain. But do you have an answer to the question?”

Garwood moved to the door and opened it. Before leaving he turned and looked back at them, his eyes traveling from Edgar to Rider to Bosch.

“It wasn’t one of mine, Detectives. I guarantee it. You’ll be wasting your time if you look there too long.”

“Thanks for the advice,” Bosch said.

Garwood stepped out, closing the door behind him.

“Jeez,” Rider said. “It’s like Captain Boris Karloff or something. Does that guy only come out at night?”

Bosch smiled and nodded.

“Mr. Personality,” he said. “So, what do you think so far?”

“I think we’re at ground zero,” Rider said. “Those guys didn’t do jack before getting the hook.”

“Yeah, well, Robbery-Homicide, what do you want?” Edgar said. “They aren’t known for tap dancing. They back the tortoise over the hare any day of the week. But if you ask me, we’re fucked. You and me, Kiz, we can’t win on this one. Blue race, my ass.”

Bosch stepped toward the door.

“Let’s go out and take a look,” he said, cutting off discussion of Edgar’s concerns. He knew they were valid but for the moment they only served to clutter their mission. “Maybe we’ll get a few ideas before Irving wants to talk again.”