glanced at the signatures in the log-book or hacked into the computer, or one of my clerks is tipping somebody off. I’ll figure it out eventually. But in the meantime, your name isn’t going to send up any red flags if I can help it.”
The property room clerks had, as Flynn predicted, left for the day. The security officer nodded to them from his position at a bank of video monitors.
“Working late, Flynn?” he asked.
“Oh, not for much longer.”
They went into his office, and Flynn shut the door. There was a video monitor in here as well, showing changing views from the various surveillance cameras. There was also a computer, and several file drawers, as well as a storage cabinet. From the storage cabinet, he removed a box with blue and red tape on it. A quick glance at the tag told Frank that it was the one for the Randolph case.
“Sign here,” Flynn said, handing him an outdated carbonless form.
Frank did as he asked, unable to keep from smiling to himself. “He bends them, but they don’t break.”
“What — the rules?” Flynn said, giving him a pair of gloves. “You expect me to completely abandon my rules? No way.”
Frank put the gloves on, wondering if he should bother with them. Ignoring a little chill that raised the hair along the back of his neck, he cut the tape, then opened the box. He reached for the small, numbered envelope within it.
Although he had known there would be nothing more than an electronic watch in the envelope, he still couldn’t help feeling a little let down at the sight of it. He had seen a photograph of it, and he found that the actual article looked even more anonymous. It was one of those complex watches with buttons for alarms and timers, other time zones, and a stopwatch. The battery in it had died long ago, of course, so that the numbers on its face were gone, the face now nothing more than a gray blank, the color of a shaken Etch-A-Sketch. All the same, it didn’t appear to be cheaply made.
Tracking down the owner of the watch was more than a long shot, but this was the only thing he had to go on other than Flynn’s assurance that Lefebvre’s signature had been forged. The forged signature might prove that Lefebvre hadn’t signed for the box earlier in the day, but it would be remarkable if it could show who did the forging. Still, it was an unexpected break, so Frank decided he’d take a chance on finding the owner of the watch. Perhaps only a few of the watches had been made after all, and a serial number would lead to some record of purchase. He already had the name of the manufacturer — Time Masters — in his notes. Although he was fairly sure he had the words and numbers that were etched on the back in the files, he copied them down:
WATER RESISTANT
BASE METAL
ST STEEL BACK
TMSR3
CHINA
3458904894
He thought of Ben’s discovery of Lefebvre’s watch in the woods and remembered a detail from the file. He looked at the band for a moment, then said, “I thought the lab report claimed they had Lefebvre’s wrist measurement off this thing. How the hell did they get it?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, this doesn’t look as if it has ever been worn.”
Flynn studied it. “By God, you’re right…”
Frank remembered reading the reports, the notations about indentations made by the buckle in the leather watchband, the one bucklehole that had been slightly larger than the others, worn places that indicated wrist size based on where the strap had been fastened again and again.
He explained this to Flynn and said, “The wrist strap on this one hasn’t ever been buckled. It isn’t the same watch.”
“Shit,” Flynn said. “Shit, shit, shit. Let me pull up the records.”
He moved over to the computer, logged on, and went into the evidence control program. He asked for a report on requests made for the Randolph case materials.
The report listed a long group of names. Flynn printed it out, then handed it to Frank. Most of the names were familiar. In addition to Captain Bredloe, there were three detectives — Vince Adams, Pete Baird, Elena Rosario. Three members of the lab — Dr. Alfred Larson, Paul Haycroft, and Dale Britton. He asked Flynn about two other names, ones he didn’t recognize.
“Those guys were with Internal Affairs. They’re retired now, but I can put you in touch with them if need be.”
Frank thought about the list of names in Lefebvre’s notebook. The IAD detectives weren’t on it. “Probably won’t be necessary,” he said. “Flynn — anybody else asks to see this—”
“I’ll let you know,” Flynn said.
30
Wednesday, July 12, 5:15 P.M.
The Dane Mansion
“A child, you say?”
“Yes, sir.”
Myles kept his face impassive, but his knowledge of Mr. Dane made him proceed cautiously. Mr. Dane was not following his usual routine this evening. Departure from routine did not often bode well for his staff. Mr. Dane had refused to hear Myles’s report on Lefebvre’s funeral until a few moments ago. He sometimes did this — put off what he would consider a treat.
A report on the funeral for Lefebvre was, Mr. Dane decided, a real treat.
“The Las Piernas Police Department may not remember all he did for them,” Dane had said when told of the arrangements, “but I certainly do!” He considered and rejected the idea of gracing the services with his own presence, but he could not resist causing a stir.
His instructions to Myles had been explicit. “I want you to hover there, Myles. Don’t get close enough to kiss the casket — in fact, stay well out of reach, but make sure your appearance is noted. They’ll go positively wild. And
