was not a tourist. In Avery Snowden’s line of work, it was imperative to maintain a low profile, which was more difficult than usual when he was operating in a small community. Blending in or being invisible was the only way to approach it.
By eight o’clock, after he had taken a shower, Avery was picking at the crumbs from the muffin he had devoured and was on his way to the Live-Life-Long office. He would go in and pretend that he was a bit lost. And could they give him directions to the Baldwin Gallery? He would then surreptitiously stick a very small microphone transmitter, one the size of a watch battery, either under the receptionist’s desk or on a plant or something that was on the counter. It would depend on whatever opportunity presented itself. Once it was installed, he would listen until the office closed for the evening, then would reenter through the back door to plant the rest of the surveillance devices. He was surprised that there was virtually no security system in place. But maybe all they were concerned about was what was in that vault. That would be the challenge. Circumventing what little office security the place had would be a walk in the park.
He drove the SUV two blocks away from the Baldwin Gallery. He walked to the office from there. This way he really seemed lost. The outside of Live-Life-Long was minimalistic. Just a white, frosted-glass front door with a logo etched into it. The minute you entered, you were greeted by aromatherapy of lavender, vanilla, and cedar. He suspected they were pumping oxygen into the room, as well—the way they did at casinos to keep you alert and awake until you lost all your money. There was soft New Age music playing in the background. Two very attractive women—who appeared to be around fifty—sat behind a white counter that held two purple orchid plants. Perfect.
He slapped on a charming smile and approached them. “Good morning. I am sorry to bother you, but I seem to be a bit turned around. I was looking for the Baldwin Gallery, and it appears I’m walking around in circles. Would you mind setting me in the right direction?”
Both looked like they had come out of a mold. Something akin to The Stepford Wives, but older. Great marketing strategy. Sassy and sexy at sixty.
One of the women stood and leaned across the counter. “No trouble at all. When you go out the door, make a right. Go down to the stop sign and make a left. Go two more blocks, and it’s on the right. You can’t miss it!”
“Obviously I did!” Avery gave the biggest charming smile he could muster as he secretly placed the listening device on the back of one of the orchid plants. He laughed to himself. A plant for a plant. Funny. “Thank you very much. Enjoy your day.” He turned and walked out.
After placing an earbud in his ear, he was pleased to hear them chatting about him. “Nice-looking man. I wonder how long he’s going to be in town.” He smiled and continued to walk back to the SUV. He passed a recreational marijuana shop and wondered how the doctor felt about that kind of competition. Or is it? He shrugged. Next thing on his agenda was to look at the house and that massive garage.
Avery drove around town to familiarize himself with the streets and devise a plan to get back into the office sometime that evening. He doubted there were any street gangs or kids hanging out. It was a very pristine, high, as in very high-end community, and was listed as one of the top twenty richest zip codes in the country. No riffraff here. After scoping out the neighborhood, he headed to Crystal Lake Road, a very short distance away. As he was approaching the house, a Jaguar XJ came soaring out of the driveway, almost sideswiping his SUV. “Jerk.” Then he realized that the reckless driver was Dr. Steinwood himself. He slowed down and surveyed the front of the house. No other cars were in sight, either on the road or in the driveway. It was going to be difficult to be inconspicuous. The idea of a utility truck came to mind. No one would question it.
He quickly phoned Charles. “Hey, old boy. I need some assistance in acquiring a utility truck. Power company. Cable. Something like that. It’s rather sparse here, and a stakeout might