Bosch

Ah.

Here you go.

Horace Tapscott.

Hmm.

Guessing...

saxophone?

Piano and social justice.

Hm. Sounds progressive.

Not exactly your Blue Note groove.

I'm trying to find something you might like.

I don't even have a turntable.

You know, when the Central Avenue clubs closed,

Tapscott formed the Pan African.

People's Arkestra. It single-handedly

kept the Leimert Park music scene

alive for years.

Hmm.

My father listens to jazz, Harry.

Me, I'm more Ozomatli or Los Lobos. No offense.

I'm not your father, and I dig Los Lobos.

- Hmm. - No offense.

Excuse me.

The other woman?

Girl.

Keep telling yourself that.

Dinner was fantastic.

I got time to drive you home.

Opposite directions, and it's late.

I have a crazy day tomorrow.

You got a crazy day every day.

Here's my Uber.

Go home to your girl.

Watch the right side. Slow down. Slow down.

I want to... I don't want to drive like an old person.

Well, these hillside streets can be a little tricky,

but you're doing great.

You're doing really great.

You were even later last night.

- Eyes on the road. - It was, like, 3 a.m.

I heard you come in.

Okay, so what, you wanna put me on a curfew now?

Can I?

Focus on the next thing, not what's in front of you.

The back of the turn, not the beginning.

You know, Anita Benitez does not have a Facebook page.

Yeah, well, DAs deal with bad people.

They tend to keep a low profile.

Eyes on the road,

Maddie.

Keep right. Keep right.

Hands at 10 and 2.

Perfect.

You're doing great.

You can relax now.

I love you, too. See you tonight.

Oh, hey. Uh...

Harry, right?

Yeah.

Phil Gentry.

I was hoping I'd run into you.

- Hey, Maddie. - Hey.

So is Maddie liking volleyball?

I hear she's an absolute stud.

She's having fun.

Yeah, my Becca's the setter.

They're good friends. She convinced her to try out.

You know, listen, I just want you to know

that all the parents here, we really admire what you do.

We've never had a... A cop who was a dad before.

I mean... I mean a dad who was a...

Something I can do for you?

Yeah, well, um...

I was maybe doing 50

on that stretch of Third

over by Larchmont, but everybody does.

It's a 35 zone.

Yeah, and I back off,

but this motorcycle cop was running this speed trap there,

and, uh...

and I was just wondering,

um...

Thank you.

Want you to take the lead on this.

And remember, it's a murder scene

until we prove it's not.

Landlord.

Victim is male,

50-ish...

white.

Jesus.

Looks like he landed head first.

See but don't assume.

I.D.?

Rhodes is talking to the landlord now.

Public easement... Easy access,

but screened from the street.

Security camera pointed the wrong way.

Yeah. What a surprise.

I'll go door-to-door.

- Officer Rhodes. - Detective.

What fresh hell we got here?

Well, the vic lives right upstairs.

And, uh...

looks to be a straight shot.

Last name Gunn.

You told this asshole you'd look out for him?

I didn't want to go off on him

in front of Maddie and her friends.

There. Taken care of.

You better warn Maddie that her best friend's dad

is gonna have a warrant on his ass in about 30 days.

- They're not best friends. - Just saying.

That was possibly the most useless autopsy

we've been to in a while.

When are you going to learn?

What the fuck am I supposed to do?

Dress down on morgue days. Dress like me.

- Bosch. - Robertson.

We just rolled on a jumper, and what do you know?

The guy's got a flag on his rap: Call Harry Bosch.

What's the name?

Gunn. Edward James.

Where is he?

His apartment. It's on 42...

On our way.

What was that?

Summer of '08.

Victims were two working girls

who used the same escort website.

Killed in a similar fashion...

Abducted, tortured,

bodies dumped in alleys.

Seven years we've been partners,

never once have you talked about Edward Gunn.

Not a case we worked together.

You've got him flagged, Harry.

Anyway, we had Gunn good for both murders

and possibly some others we didn't even know about,

but O'Shea was getting ready to run for DA.

Didn't have the balls to file

because it wasn't a 100% sure thing.

You've been keeping tabs on a serial killer

- and didn't tell me. - Never came up.

And the other night?

Gunn showed up in the Rampart drunk tank.

I dropped by to see

if he wanted to clear his conscience, confess.

He was dead drunk.

Went back the next morning, he was gone.

- Somebody bailed him out. - Who?

I do not know.

- Gentlemen. - Hey.

Kid here thinks it's a suicide.

There's a note. And it looks like he downed

a heavy dose of liquid courage to get up the nerve.

I keep telling him, don't jump to conclusions.

Look small, find large. Look large, find small.

- I'm partnered with Yoda. - Hey, Yoda, my ass.

Why don't you give 'em a tour so we can finish up here?

Is that a "murse"?

It's my homicide kit. Don't give me shit.

My wife gave it to me when I made rank.

Handsome.

Yeah, yeah.

What's your history with this guy?

Case that got away.

That itch that can't ever be scratched, eh?

I know the feeling.

Point of impact?

Kinda close to the building, no?

Yep.

What's up?

Depleted quart of Gentleman Jim.

There's your confession, Harry.

"I'm sorry."

That's remorse, not a confession.

Could've gotten drunk and fell over the balcony.

That's what my partner says.

Pierce!

Now what?

Bosch?

Hey.

You see something else you want to share?

No, I'm good.

Have fun.

Always.

Where are we on Meadows?

Autopsy confirmed his I.D.

and that he was a habitual abuser of opioids.

Patrol's looking for the tagger as a possible witness,

and I gotta write a warrant for the storage bin.

How's Bosch?

He's pretty focused on the Holland trial prep.

And you know how he gets.

Don't dance with me, Jerry.

It's not what I meant and you know it.

Come on, this O'Shea thing.

Harry's got a bulls-eye on his back again.

I think he's well aware of that.

I worry that he likes it in his present mood.