“Your job is to clean,” she said. “Not to interfere with his routine.”

The heavy metal doors of the penthouse elevator chimed down the hall.

Heavy, rapid footsteps echoed on the polished hardwood floor of the corridor.

Matteo walked into the breakroom.

His dark wool overcoat was unbuttoned, and his silk tie was slightly crooked.

His dark eyes swept the room, landing first on me, then on the watch in Mrs. Higgins’s hand.

“What is going on here?” Matteo demanded.

“I caught her red-handed, sir,” Mrs. Higgins said, her voice instantly changing to a soft, trembling tone.

She held out the Rolex on her open palm.

“I noticed her bag was open on the hook. This was sticking out of it. It is your late father’s watch.”

Matteo looked at the watch, the gold surface reflecting the fluorescent light of the breakroom.

Then he looked at me.

“Cameron?” he asked.

“It was planted, Mr. DeLuca,” I said. “I walked in to get my sweater, and it was at the bottom of my canvas bag.”