Chapter 21

BEFORE taking Edgar back to Hollywood Division and then heading out to Venice, Bosch got the evidence box containing the skateboard out of the trunk and took it back inside Parker Center to the SID lab. At the counter he asked for Antoine Jesper. While he waited, he studied the skateboard. It appeared to be made out of laminated plywood. It had a lacquered finish to which several decals had been applied, most notably a skull and crossbones located in the middle of the top surface of the board.

When Jesper came to the counter, Bosch presented him with the evidence box.

“I want to know who made this, when it was made and where it was sold,” he said. “It’s priority one. I got the sixth floor riding my back on this case.”

“No problem. I can tell you the make right now. It’s a Boney board. They don’t make ’ em anymore. He sold out and moved, I think, to Hawaii.”

“How do you know all of that?”

“’Cause when I was a kid I was a boarder and this was what I wanted but never had the dough for. Pretty ironic, huh?”

“What is?”

“A Boney board and the case. You know, bones.”

Bosch nodded.

“Whatever. I want whatever you can get me by tomorrow.”

“Um, I can try. I can’t prom-”

“Tomorrow, Antoine. The sixth floor, remember? I’ll be talking to you tomorrow.”

Jesper nodded.

“Give me the morning, at least.”

“You got it. Anything happening with documents?”

Jesper shook his head.

“Nothing yet. She tried the dyes and nothing came up. I don’t think you should count on anything there, Harry.”

“All right, Antoine.”

Bosch left him there holding the box.

On the way back to Hollywood he let Edgar drive while he pulled the tip sheet out of his briefcase and called Sheila Delacroix on his cell phone. She answered promptly and Bosch introduced himself and said her call had been referred to him.

“Was it Arthur?” she asked urgently.

“We don’t know, ma’am. That’s why I’m calling.”

“Oh.”

“Will it be possible for me and my partner to come see you tomorrow morning to talk about Arthur and get some information? It will help us to be better able to determine if the remains are those of your brother.”

“I understand. Um, yes. You can come here, if that is convenient.”

“Where is there, ma’am?”

“Oh. My home. Off Wilshire in the Miracle Mile.”

Bosch looked at the address on the call-in sheet.

“On Orange Grove.”

“Yes, that’s correct.”

“Is eight-thirty too early for you?”

“That would be fine, Officer. If I can help I would like to. It just bothers me to think that that man lived there all those years after doing something like this. Even if the victim wasn’t my brother.”

Bosch decided it wasn’t worth telling her that Trent was probably completely innocent in terms of the bone case. There were too many people in the world who believed everything they saw on television.

Instead, Bosch gave her his cell phone number and told her to call it if something came up and eight-thirty the next morning turned out to be a bad time for her.

“It won’t be a bad time,” she said. “I want to help. If it’s Arthur, I want to know. Part of me wants it to be him so I know it is over. But the other part wants it to be somebody else. That way I can keep thinking he is out there someplace. Maybe with a family of his own now.”

“I understand,” Bosch said. “We’ll see you in the morning.”

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