“One last question. There was a woman who was killed on Angels Flight. It looks like they were not together. Her name was Catalina Perez. Does that name mean anything to either of you?”

Bosch’s eyes moved from the woman’s face to her son’s. Both stared blankly and shook their heads.

“Okay then.”

He stood up.

“We will leave you alone now. But either myself or other detectives will need to speak with you again. Probably later on today.”

Neither the mother nor son reacted.

“Mrs. Elias, do you have a spare photo of your husband we could borrow?”

The woman looked up at him, her face showing confusion.

“Why do you want a picture of Howard?”

“We may need to show people in the course of the investigation.”

“Everybody already knows Howard, what he looks like.”

“Probably, ma’am, but we might need a photo in some cases. Do you — ”

“Martin,” she said, “go get me the albums out of the drawer in the den.”

Martin left the room and they waited. Bosch took a business card from his pocket and put it down on the wrought-iron-and-glass coffee table.

“There’s my pager number if you need me or if there is anything else I can do. Is there a family minister you would like us to call?”

Millie Elias looked up at him again.

“Reverend Tuggins over at the AME.”

Bosch nodded but immediately wished he hadn’t made the offer. Martin came back into the room with a photo album. His mother took it and began to turn through the pages. She began to weep silently again at the sight of so many pictures of her husband. Bosch wished he had put off getting the photo until the follow-up interview. Finally, she came upon a close-up shot of Howard Elias’s face. She seemed to know it would be the best photo for the police. She carefully removed it from the plastic sleeve and handed it to Bosch.

“Will I get that back?”

“Yes, ma’am, I’ll see that you do.”

Bosch nodded and was about to make his way to the door. He was wondering if he could just forget about calling Reverend Tuggins.

“Where’s my husband?” the widow suddenly asked.

Bosch turned back.

“His body is at the coroner’s office, ma’am. I will give them your number and they will call you when it is time for you to make arrangements.”

“What about Reverend Tuggins? You want to use our phone?”

“Uh, no, ma’am. We’ll contact Reverend Tuggins from our car. We can see ourselves out now.”