The red second hand on the Telechron wall clock made a dry rasping click each time it dropped.
It reached the top of the dial at exact 02:13:00 AM.
Beside Julian’s elbow lay the cast-iron Addressograph imprinter.
Next to it lay the zinc plate pried from Marjorie Bell’s 1996 lockbox.
“Look at the timestamp again, Elena,” Julian said.
Elena leaned over the counter. Her knuckles were pressed against the zinc.
Her dark eyes tracked the raised block letters on the metal plate.
“Tallow, Victor,” she read aloud. “Attending Staff.”
