After the file downloaded, Avery, aka Harry, aka Walter, took a good long look at the office, which was close to the Baldwin Gallery. Surprisingly, there was not much security. The reception area was front and center as you entered the office. A small waterfall was the backdrop for the reception desk. There was a hallway on each side, with glass doors leading toward the back, where there were two rooms for patient consultations. A large private office was in the far corner and had what appeared to be a very large vault—a Scripps Safe TRXP Series pharmacy safe.

That’s a lot of steel, Avery thought to himself. I wonder what big secrets they’re keeping in there. I’m sure Charles and the sisters will find out.

Next, he looked at the prints for the house on Crystal Lake Road. He let out a low whistle. There was a detached garage that was almost as big as the six-thousand-square-foot house. Another mystery to be solved. But first, he had to visit the office of Live-Life-Long and plant a bug in the reception area. This way he could hear when they were closing, so he could break in and plant bugs in the big office and the patients’ rooms.

Avery unwrapped the muffin he had brought in the night before. He glanced at the small dresser, which held a pathetic-looking pot with something that resembled coffee and packages of synthetic milk. Sometimes these surveillances come with no perks. He smirked at his private sense of humor. Aspen was a small town compared to others. It was a resort, and the locals knew who was or was not a tourist. In Avery Snowden’s line of work, it was imperative to maintain a low profile, which was more difficult than usual when he was operating in a small community. Blending in or being invisible was the only way to approach it.

By eight o’clock, after he had taken a shower, Avery was picking at the crumbs from the muffin he had devoured and was on his way to the Live-Life-Long office. He would go in and pretend that he was a bit lost. And could they give him directions to the Baldwin Gallery? He would then surreptitiously stick a very small microphone transmitter, one the size of a watch battery, either under the receptionist’s desk or on a plant or something that was on the counter. It would depend on whatever opportunity presented itself. Once it was installed, he would listen until the office closed for the evening, then would reenter through the back door to plant the rest of the surveillance devices. He was surprised that there was virtually no security system in place. But maybe all they were concerned about was what was in that vault. That would be the challenge. Circumventing what little office security the place had would be a walk in the park.