“Seven-thirty. That’s when I always get up. I went to another one of Keith’s jobs. The Rosen project on Chloe Lane.”

“What time did you arrive at the Rosen project?”

“About eight-thirty. I was there all morning. Mrs. Rosen was there all morning. She brought me out some coffee. She can tell you I was there.”

“When did you leave the Rosen project to go to the Grossman project?”

“Around twelve-thirty, I left the Rosen project. I stopped off at Ranger’s to eat lunch. That’s a deli. I ate a corned beef sandwich with mustard. That I remember because it’s what I threw up. I can’t eat corned beef anymore and I used to love corned beef. The whole thing is fucked up.”

“How’d you pay for your meal?”

“Like I pay for all of them. In cash.”

“That doesn’t help me.”

“Sorry,” Tinsley mocked. “Didn’t know I would need receipts to get me out of criminal charges.”

“What time did you leave Ranger’s?”

“About one-thirty. I came straight to the Grossman project. It’s about fifteen minutes away. You can clock it yourself.”

“What did you do while you ate your sandwich at Ranger’s?”

“I dunno. I just ate. I mighta caught up on some phone calls. Sometimes I do that.”

“On your cell?”

“How else? I didn’t borrow the landline.”

“Do you have any objections to my going through your cell phone records?”

“Be my guest.”

Decker said, “Better yet, how about handing over your cell?”

Tinsley shrugged. “Fine.” He fished into the pocket of his nylon jacket and gave Decker the cell.

“Give me a couple of minutes with this.” Decker stood up and left, returning to the video room, where Marge and Oliver were still studying Chuck on the monitor. Tinsley had laid his head between his arms on the table and appeared to be going to sleep.

“Check this out, Marge.” Decker handed her the phone. “What do you two think?”

Oliver said, “I’m always suspicious of a guy who tries to nap after being grilled by the police.”

“He said that the card that he gave Adrianna is in his nightstand,” Marge pointed out. “Why don’t we see if we can get him to agree to a search of his place?”

“Good idea.”

“He could be lying. But I don’t think he is. If his story checks out, he wouldn’t have had enough time since he was accounted for from eight-thirty until he called the police.”

“If you believe him,” Oliver said. “Besides, how long does it take for a quick screw?”