“Well … Kay was terrific. Hot tempered but terrific. But Carl was awful. Cold as ice. All he cared about was the bottom line. And Carl was the boss. Jonah stayed away, because Jonah wanted nothing to do with Carl.”

“And now?”

“Now, with Carl gone, Jonah’s in charge.” She looked at Gurney cautiously. “I don’t know him that well yet.”

“I don’t know him at all, Carol. But I’ll tell you the things I’ve heard. He’s a saint. He’s a fake. He’s a fantastic person. He’s a religious nut. Is there anything you can add to any of that?”

She met Gurney’s inquisitive gaze and smiled. “I don’t think so.” She licked the corners of her mouth again. “I’m really the wrong person to ask about guys like that. I’m not what you’d call religious.”

Over the next three hours Gurney reviewed the video files from the three security cameras he considered most likely to have captured something useful—the cameras positioned to provide coverage of the parking area, of the interior of Carol Blissy’s office, and of vehicles utilizing the automated entry gate for residents.

The videos from the parking area and office were the most interesting. There was a painting contractor who got Gurney’s attention by seeming to play the role of a cartoon painter, stopping just short of stepping in a bucket of paint and falling on his face. There was a pizza deliveryman with wild eyes who seemed to be auditioning for the role of a teen-movie psychopath. And then there was a floral delivery person.

Gurney replayed half a dozen times the two short video segments in which that individual appeared. The first showed a dark blue minivan pulling into the parking area—nondescript, except for a sign on the driver’s door: FLOWERS BY FLORENCE. The second, with audio, showed the driver entering Carol’s office, announcing a delivery of flowers—chrysanthemums—for a Mrs. Marjorie Stottlemeyer, and asking for and receiving directions to her condo unit.

The driver was small and frail-looking—just how small was hard to tell from the high, distorting angle of the camera—wearing tight jeans, a leather jacket, a scarf, a headband, and wraparound sunglasses. Despite repeated viewings, Gurney couldn’t say for sure whether the thin little person was a man or a woman. But something else did become clearer with each viewing: despite the mention of only one name, two bouquets of mums were being delivered.

He went and got Carol Blissy from the front office and replayed the segment for her.

Her mouth opened in surprise. “Oh, that one!” She pulled a chair over and sat quite close to Gurney. “Play it again.”

When he did so, she nodded. “I remember that one.”

“You remember … him?” asked Gurney. “Or was it a her?”