“He pled a nolo. But that begs the question. If the item was fake, why didn’t he just return the money?”

“Maybe he didn’t have the money to return.”

McAdams limped into the room, using a cane for balance. Oliver said, “Are you sure you should be walking?”

“I’m tired of people giving me pitiful looks when I’m perfectly healthy.” He sat down. “The reference library at Pretoria doesn’t open until nine. I left a message.”

Decker thought a moment. “Give Allan Sugar a call. Ask him if he’d like to go to Pretoria and check out the sign-up sheets personally.”

McAdams poured a cup of coffee. “He’s kinda old to be running around.”

“It was his case. Let’s give him the courtesy.”

McAdams took out his phone and made the call. A minute later, he hung up. “He sounded eager. Go figure.”

“I know how old cops think because I am one,” Decker said.

“It’s the jones of police work,” Oliver said. “It never goes away.”

McAdams sipped coffee. “Anything new?” Decker brought him up to date. Then Tyler said, “Interesting but not shocking. Merritt’s an art dealer.”

“Are they particularly more dishonest than anyone else?” Oliver said.

“Probably not, but they deal with rich clients. More temptation to fudge because the stakes are higher.” McAdams buttered toast. “I’d like to think I’m honest, but I’ve never been tested. Money isn’t my thing. Of course, I have a lot of it.”

“So what’s your Achilles heel?” Oliver asked. “Power? Women? Drugs?”

“I dunno. Maybe power. How about you?”

“Women.”

“What about you, Old Man? Are you corruptible?”

“I’d have to think about it, Harvard.”

“What about your family? Would you protect them if they did something illegal?”

“I suppose it depends on what they did.”

“Would you turn them in if they murdered someone?”

“If it was premeditated, yes. Even if it wasn’t, I still think I’d do it. Going to the police is usually the best option, as long as you go in with a great defense lawyer.”

“Hedging your bets.”

“Just using the law to my advantage. What about you, Oliver? Would you turn your sons in for murder?”

“Probably, but I couldn’t swear to it. The one thing I’ve learned being a cop for all my life: justice isn’t black and white.”

“Ain’t that the truth?” Decker said. “I remember once when Cindy was around sixteen. She wound up at a twenty-four-hour drugstore at three in the morning with her friends. She wasn’t supposed to be out that late. Neither my ex-wife nor I would have known about it except unfortunately for her, the store was robbed. The cops took statements of everyone there.”

“Poor kid,” McAdams said.