“Anything else on the money?” I asked.

Lorna shook her head.

“That’s about it. When you’re in court, I’m going to call the bank and get that started. You want us both to be signers on the accounts?”

“Yeah, just like with my accounts.”

I hadn’t considered the potential difficulty of getting my hands on the money that was in the Vincent accounts. That was what I had Lorna for. She was good on the business end in ways I wasn’t. Some days she was so good I wished we had either never gotten married or never gotten divorced.

“See if Wren Williams can sign checks,” I said. “If she’s on there, take her off. For now I want just you and me on the accounts.”

“Will do. You may have to go back to Judge Holder for a court order for the bank.”

“That’ll be no problem.”

My watch said I had ten minutes before I had to get going to court. I turned my attention to Wojciechowski.

“Cisco, whaddaya got?”

I had told him earlier to work his contacts and to monitor the investigation of Vincent’s murder as closely as possible. I wanted to know what moves the detectives were making because it appeared from what Bosch had said that the investigation was going to be entwined with the cases I had just inherited.

“Not much,” Cisco said. “The detectives haven’t even gotten back to Parker Center yet. I called a guy I know in forensics and they’re still processing everything. Not a lot of info on what they do have but he told me about something they don’t. Vincent was shot at least two times that they could tell at the scene. And there were no shells. The shooter cleaned up.”

There was something telling in that. The killer had either used a revolver or had had the presence of mind after killing a man to pick up the bullet casings ejected from his gun.

Cisco continued his report.

“I called another contact in communications and she told me the first call came in at twelve forty-three. They’ll narrow down time of death at autopsy.”

“Is there a general idea of what happened?”

“It looks like Vincent worked late, which was apparently his routine on Mondays. He worked late every Monday, preparing for the week ahead. When he was finished he packed his briefcase, locked up and left. He goes to the garage, gets in his car and gets popped through the driver’s side window. When they found him the car was in park, the ignition on. The window was down. It was in the low sixties last night. He could’ve put the window down because he liked the chill, or he could’ve lowered it for somebody coming to the car.”

“Somebody he knew.”

“That’s one possibility.”

I thought about this and what Detective Bosch had said.

“Nobody was working in the garage?”

“No, the attendant leaves at six. You have to put your money in the machine after that or use your monthly pass. Vincent had a monthly.”