“Don’t interrupt while I’m trying to help.”

There were two rolling chairs available. I pulled one over to the bank of screens and took a seat. Ari pulled the second chair into place next to mine.

“I met Teddy yesterday and she behaved as though she had all the time in the world. Neither she nor Christian gave any indication they had pressing business to conduct, let alone a crime to commit. No sign of anxiety. No whiff of nerves. I expected both to be in high gear. Teddy did try some sleight of hand. She’d left a book on Tiffany jewelry on the arm of a chair. She acted like it was an oversight, but she was so casual about tucking it away, I knew it had to be bullshit. She wanted me to believe the necklace was the object of the exercise and Christian was hired for his safecracking skills. No such thing.”

“So what are we doing here?” Ari asked.

I turned to Duke. “Can you run some of these tape cassettes back a few days? Not all of them.”

“Sure, no problem. Which?”

“That one. And that. And these two.” I was pointing to the monitor that showed a shot of the front door and the monitor showing a reverse shot of the corridor just inside. I also indicated a third camera that had a wide-angle view of the hallway, looking toward the elevator. The fourth camera was fixed on the driveway a short distance from the front door.

“How far?”

“Tuesday, the twenty-first.”

He tapped instructions into his keyboard and the tapes on the four cameras I’d designated began a speedy rewind. Time ran backward. The views were populated with a motley collection of worker bees, everybody walking backward, furniture picked up and zipped to the position it was in when it first came into view. The date and hour line sped backward as well.

I watched Thursday rewind into Wednesday. Maurie. Stella. Ari. Movers, maids. Lifting, cleaning, polishing, covering and uncovering furniture. Paintings that had been stacked against the wall flipped back into the hands of those who’d set them in place. The elevator door opened and closed. Pieces were loaded and disappeared. Gradually the hall was emptied of its freight.

Late in the day on Tuesday, I caught sight of myself appearing in the corridor, backing out, then appearing at the front door, which was standing open to foot traffic. Another ten minutes disappeared, and I said, “There. Now let it play forward.”

Ari said, “What is this?”

“Just watch.”

All four tapes now proceeded in something close to real time. There was a slight lapse from shot to shot, so the action had a certain staccato herky-jerky feel to it. I pointed to the camera directed at the drive. At 5:25 P.M., a white panel truck pulled up. A portion of the XLNT logo was visible.

Automatically, Ari said, “That’s not mine.”

“I know.”

A man in dark blue coveralls got out of the truck on the passenger side. Mustache, glasses, medium height. He had a clipboard in hand and he walked through the open front door. Inside, Maurie spotted him and he moved in her direction. The two chatted. He offered her the clipboard and a pen. She read the paperwork and scratched her signature on the bottom line, after which she gestured.