There was the misstep. Bosch looked around. He had to change things.
“Mr. Gerard, do you have an office or somewhere we can talk privately?”
Now Gerard paused, probably deciding how much further he wanted to be involved in this.
“Yes, follow me, please,” he finally said.
Gerard nodded to the security man, a signal that all was well, as he brought Bosch through the door behind the displays.
Gerard had a small private office located off a larger back room where a workbench stood with various small tools on a rack. Against the back wall Bosch saw a floor-to-ceiling safe where inventory was probably housed. There was no one in the back room. That and the magnifier attached to his glasses made it clear that Gerard ran the shop and was also the technician who made the repairs and adjustments to the watches.
Gerard took a seat behind a perfectly clean desk and flipped open an At-A-Glance calendar book. He paged back through it until he saw a name or notation, then opened a drawer and removed a corresponding file with a watch attached to it in a padded pouch. He unclipped the pouch, removed the watch, and put it carefully down on his desk, then opened the file.
“The watch was sent to us for repair by Alexandra Harrick,” he said. “She sent it from West Hollywood, California, but you already know that.”
“Yes,” Bosch said.
With Gerard talking, Bosch said as little as possible, not wanting to mention anything that would put the brakes on his revealing information.
“Our website provides precise details on how one should proceed to have a watch serviced or repaired.”
“What was wrong with the watch?” Bosch asked, immediately regretting that he had said anything.
Gerard picked up the watch and used a finger to circle its face.
“The crystal was fractured,” he said. “No explanation given. But it was a simple repair. The only issue was the replacement crystal. I had to order it from Switzerland and that took about ten days.”
Gerard looked up from the watch to Bosch, waiting for the next question. Bosch had blown the momentum of the conversation and had to try to get it back.
“When was the watch sent here?” he asked.
Gerard consulted notes written on the file.
“Received on February second,” he said. “Sent by FedEx.”
Bosch noted the date — one week before the murder of Alexandra Parks.
“That was when it was received — we document that,” Gerard said. “But I didn’t actually open the box and examine its contents until three days later — on the fifth.”
“What happened then?” Bosch asked.
“Well, all of our pieces are registered upon purchase,” Gerard said. “In the case of a resale, they can be reregistered by the new purchaser, after which they can enjoy the benefits of customer service. What happened here was that this watch was not registered in the name Harrick. It still carried the original owner’s registration.”
“It was bought used as a gift,” Bosch said. “An estate sale.”
“The problem was that I happened to know about this specific watch,” Gerard said. “Because I had sold it originally.”
He said nothing else and Bosch was unsure what to ask next. The story of the watch, whatever it was, obviously had puzzled or bothered Gerard in some way that was unsaid. Bosch needed to get it said.
“You sold it originally and had not heard about it being resold?”
“Exactly.”
“Who did you sell it to originally?”
“I can’t tell you that. We have a privacy policy and we can’t reveal client names. People who buy these watches expect and get a high level of confidentiality.”
“All right, so what did you do?”
“The original purchaser had bought two watches from me in the past three years. He was a collector of fine timepieces and bought for himself and his wife. And as far as I knew, he still had them both, but then this watch came in from someone else. So I took the initiative to call his home to verify that the repurchase was legitimate.”
Gerard was now following a pattern of letting the story stall and needing to be prompted. In Bosch’s experience it was a sign of reluctance. It happened often when people — completely innocent or uninvolved people — were questioned about things related to a murder.
“What did he tell you?”
“I didn’t talk to him at first. His wife answered the phone. I asked for the husband but he was not home.”
“So you talked to her.”
“I didn’t feel I should raise an alarm with her if it wasn’t necessary. I identified myself and said I was just calling as a follow-up to see if they remained happy with their timepieces and if there was anything I could do. We offer a free service and cleaning to our clients. They pay only for shipping and insurance.”
“That was a smart way to handle it. What did she say?”
“She told me that both of the watches purchased through me had been stolen.”
“Stolen.”
“Yes, there was a burglary. She was in Paris and never traveled with her watch for fear of robbery. It was at home, and her husband had stayed home because he had to work. There was a break-in one day at the house while he was out and all of their jewelry was taken.”
“Did she say when this was?”
“Just a few months before. I didn’t get an exact date.”
“Do they live here in Las Vegas?”
Gerard hesitated but then decided he could reveal his client’s place of residence without violating company policy.
“They live in Beverly Hills,” he said.
“Okay,” Bosch said. “Did you tell the wife that you had her stolen watch in your shop?”
Gerard hesitated again and Bosch thought he saw where the man’s discomfort might be centered.
“Not exactly,” he said. “I wanted to talk to the husband, you see. Technically he was the client. I asked her to have him call me. And I told her that I may have located one of the watches.”
“That’s how you said it?” Bosch said.
“Yes. I did not say I had it in hand.”
“And did the husband call you?”
“Yes, that same afternoon. He told me a completely different story. He said the watches were not stolen. That was what he had told his wife because he had actually sold the watches and the jewelry without her knowing. He was nervous and embarrassed, but he admitted that he’d had a cash-flow problem and had sold the watches to cover some gambling losses that he didn’t want his wife to know about.”
“So he made up the story about the burglary.”
“Exactly.”
“Was he known to you as a gambler?”
“I didn’t know him outside of this store, but he lives in Beverly Hills and we are in Las Vegas. He paid cash for his purchases. I always assumed that he came here to do more than buy watches.”
“What does he do for a living?”
“He’s a doctor but I don’t know what kind.”
Bosch thought about this. If the story was true, his pursuit of this loose end to the Parks case was tied up now and seemingly unrelated to her murder. It was just an odd side story that he had wasted time on. He wondered if he looked disappointed.
“Did he say where he sold the watches or to whom?”
“No, I didn’t ask. The conversation was short. He just wanted to make sure that I knew the information his wife had given me wasn’t accurate. He asked if I had called the police and I said no, that I had wanted to talk to him first.”
Bosch nodded and studied Gerard. The man still looked uncomfortable, as though telling the story had not exorcised whatever it was that was bothering him.
“Is there more, Mr. Gerard?” he asked.
“More?”
“More to the story. Did you leave something out?”