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over the division’s MPR and got it off the guy’s thumb.”
    Each of the department’s divisions had a mobile print reader that took a digital thumbprint and instantly compared it to the Department of Motor Vehicles database. It was primarily used in the station house jails to confirm IDs, as there had been several incidents in which felons sought on warrants had given false IDs upon arrest and were able to bail out before the jailers knew they’d had a wanted individual in custody. But the department was always looking for other applications of the equipment and this had been a smart use of the new technology by Crate and Barrel.
    “Good going,” Bosch said.
    He turned and looked at the bathrobe.
    “Anybody check that?”
    Solomon and Glanville looked at each other and Bosch saw the exchange. Neither had checked, thinking the other had.
    Solomon went to the robe and Bosch stepped back into the suite. As he did so he spotted a small object next to a leg of the coffee table in front of the couch. He squatted down to see what it was without touching it. It was a small black button that had blended in with the dark pattern of the carpet.
    Bosch picked the button up so he could look closely at it. He guessed that it had come off a men’s dress shirt. He put the button back in the place he had found it. He could tell one of the detectives had come in from the balcony and was behind him.
    “Where are his clothes?”
    “Folded and hung nice and neat in the closet,” Glanville said. “What’s that?”
    “A button, probably nothing. But get the photographer back up here to shoot it before we collect it. Anything in the bathrobe?”
    “The room key. That’s it.”
    Bosch headed down the hallway. The first room on the right was a small kitchen with a table for two against one wall. On the counter opposite was a display of alcoholic beverages and snacks available for purchase by the suite’s guest. Bosch checked the waste can in the corner. It was empty. He opened the refrigerator and found it stocked with more beverages—beer, champagne, sodas and fruit drinks. None of it looked disturbed.
    Harry moved on down the hall, checking out the bathroom before finally entering the bedroom.
    Solomon had been right about the bed. The spread was neat and pulled tight at the corners. No one had even sat on the bed since it had been made. There was a closet with a mirrored door. As Bosch approached it he could see Glanville in the room’s doorway behind him, watching.
    In the closet, Irving’s clothes were on hangers—shirt, pants and jacket—and his underwear, socks and shoes were on a side shelf next to a room safe with a partially opened door. Inside the safe were a wallet and a wedding ring along with an iPhone and a watch.
    The safe had a four-digit combination lock. Solomon had said it was found closed and locked. Bosch knew that the hotel management most likely had an electronic reader that was used to unlock the room safes. People forget combinations or check out, forgetting they’ve locked the safe. The device quickly goes through the ten thousand possible combinations until it hits the winner.
    “What was the combination?”
    “To the safe? I don’t know. Maybe Jerry got it from her.”
    “Her?”
    “The assistant manager who opened it for us. Her name’s Tamara.”
    Bosch removed the phone from the safe. He had the same model himself. But when he tried to access it he found it was password protected.
    “What do you want to bet that the password he keyed into the safe is the same password on the phone?”
    Glanville didn’t answer. Bosch put the phone back into the safe.
    “We need to get somebody up here to bag this stuff.”
    “We?”
    Bosch smiled, though Glanville couldn’t see it. He slid the hangers apart and checked the pockets on the clothing. They were empty. He then started looking at the buttons on the shirt. It was a dark blue dress shirt with black buttons. He checked the rest of the shirt and