“Whoever is on duty calls for a relief person before he or she leaves. That way, we always have a pair of eyes. If there was a problem, someone would have seen it.”

“Who was on duty yesterday morning?” Marge asked.

Peter waved again.

“How long have you worked here?” Marge asked him.

“Forever,” Povich answered. “He is my best man. I have no trouble with any of my men and women. If I have trouble, they’re out.” He handed Marge a box. “Here are the cassette tapes from yesterday. Usually we just reuse them, but I already put new ones in the cameras, so you can take your time looking at them. If you need something, ask Peter and he’ll call for you. Before you get started, do you want coffee or water?”

“Water would be great,” Marge said.

Povich said. “And you, sir?”

“Coffee—as strong as you can make it.”

“No problem. You know how to work this cassette machine?”

Oliver said, “I’m sure we can figure it out.”

“You need help, you can ask Peter.”

“Does the man talk?” Marge asked.

“Only when he has something to say.”

Ten minutes later, the two detectives were staring at a black-and-white tape. They had rewound the first cassette to around ten-thirty the previous Sunday night, then they fast-forwarded the tape. But not too fast not to notice the people on it. At 10:50, a Honda pulled into a parking spot.

Marge said. “That’s the car.”

Oliver slowed the tape to normal speed as they both watched Adrianna get out of the driver’s seat, her eyes focused straight ahead until her image disappeared from view. They rewound the tape several times to make sure they didn’t miss anything. When they were satisfied that they had noted all that could be noted, they allowed the tape to move forward, the image of Adrianna’s parked Honda in the middle of the monitor.

As the tape kept rolling, they continued to stare…and stare…and stare.

DEBRA FROM ACCOUNTING was cooperative, handing over the parking tickets once Decker explained that all they wanted to do was match each license plate number on the ticket with a name. He assured her that he wasn’t interested in any of the guests except one—Chris Donatti, Terry McLaughlin’s husband.

She said, “Even so, I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t tell anyone where you got the information from. When will you give them back to me?”

Eliza said, “I’ll go through them as quickly as I can. If you need anything, I work at West L.A. I can come back here on a moment’s notice.”

“Thanks, I appreciate that.”

Decker said, “How would I get to the maintenance and housekeeping offices?”

“I could tell you, but it’s easier if you ask Grace for a map.”

“Thanks for your help.”