“I’m speaking for both of us.” Rina donned the white gloves and sat down. “Thank you.”

“Anything I can do to help, don’t hesitate to ask,” Lisa said.

After she walked away, McAdams said, “Man, she did a one-eighty from the first time I was here.”

Schultz took up a seat that afforded him a view of the elevator as well as the staircase. “I’ll just sit here and try not to fall asleep.”

“I’m sure we’ll be fine.” Rina pulled two magnifying glasses from her briefcase and laid them on the table. Then she carefully pulled out the first reference book entitled Textiles of the Far East. It was published at the beginning of the twentieth century. Placed on the inside cover was a sign-in sheet of those who had used the book as a reference. She whispered, “Tyler, look at this.” She put the book in front of him and pointed to Angeline Moreau’s name. She had used the book six times.

“It was her thesis,” he said.

“To quote my daughter: I’m just saying.”

McAdams picked up Mid-Eastern Textiles from the Silk Route in the Fifteenth Century. He regarded the sign-up sheet. “Looks like Moreau was a busy bee.” He turned to Rina. “Shall we?”

“Let’s.”

Simultaneously, they opened their respective books to the title page. The room fell silent except for the gentle swish of paper turning, each of them carefully studying the binding of the prints with the magnifying glass to make sure that a razor blade hadn’t done any mischief.

It was going to be a long and tedious day.

BY TEN IN the morning, Decker was on the way to the Summer Village Police Department to pick up Chris Mulrooney. While riding on the highway, he and Oliver kept a constant lookout for tails. With another set of experienced eyes, Decker could relax a tad. Being with Scott felt like home, the two in conversation that ran the gamut from the good old days to the puzzling case of present days. Drinking coffee and chomping on bagels, they exchanged ideas both logical and far-fetched. Neither had much to add from last night.

“Kid seems okay, manning up under his trial by fire,” Oliver said.

“I think he’d be a great detective. But he’s doing the smart thing and going to Harvard Law.”

“Too bad. He certainly won’t get this kind of adrenaline rush there.”

“Ordinarily this job is very banal.”

“Right now, I’d definitely take banal over retirement.”

“Send out applications. You could have your pick of any small town.”

“A good idea, better than feeling sorry for myself.” He was quiet. “I’m thinking about Florida. I don’t like the cold.”

“Want me to talk to my brother?”

“Where is Randy?”

“Miami PD. But I’m sure he could make inquiries in smaller towns. Unless you want to go big again.”