"It's not the kids." Solomon was watching Nina re-tie her sneaker on the curb. "Greg, I need you to do something right now. Go to Sterling & Vance Timepieces, 745 Madison. Pull the master file, the lease, the vendor security contract, every camera angle in that building from 10:00 this morning forward, interior and exterior. I want it preserved on our servers by the end of the day. Nobody from the store touches the footage."
A pause. Greg knew Solomon's voice in every mode. This was not the boardroom voice. This was quieter than that. "What happened?"
"A security guard put his hands on Nina."
The silence on the line lasted 3 seconds. When Greg spoke again, his voice had changed. "Tell me she's all right."
"She's fine. She's not fine. She's standing. Pull the files."
"Done. Anything else?"
"One more thing. Pull the safe audit logs, last 90 days."
"The safe?"
"The safe."
"Why the safe?"
Solomon watched a yellow cab roll past, then another. He did not answer right away. Nina was standing now, hands in her jacket pockets, eyes fixed on the brass door across the street. A man inside the store laughed at something. The sound carried through the glass like an insult.
"Because a man who treats customers like that thinks the rules don't apply to him in other rooms, either. I've seen this twice in 20 years. Let's see if I'm right. Monday morning, on your desk."
"Monday morning."
He hung up. He put the phone in his pocket. He looked at his wife. "Walk with me," he said.
They started up Madison toward 78th. Nina did not take his arm. She walked beside him, half a step behind, and her hand opened and closed at her side, like she was still trying to feel where Wade had hit it.
Across the street, inside the store, Wade Greer was not finished. He stepped back onto the floor like a man returning from intermission. He nodded at two customers as he passed them. He paused at the Patek case Nina had pointed at and rested his hand on the glass for a moment, almost like he was checking that the watch was still there. He clicked his radio. "Sweep the floor, aisles three through six. I want eyes."
Margaret Hollis appeared at his elbow. Her voice was low. "Wade, could you keep it down? The customers are uncomfortable."
She did not say that was wrong. She did not say what just happened. She said, "Keep it down."
"They're fine," Wade said. He was watching the woman in the camel coat slip out the front door without buying the watch she'd been holding. He shrugged. "She'll be back next week."
Beatrice Donovan came around the register. Her hands were shaking. She did not try to hide it. "Wade, they didn't do anything. She didn't even take the watch out of the case."
Wade looked at her. He smiled. It was not a kind smile. "B, how long have you been here? Six months? Trust me. I've been doing this for eight years. I can spot a thief from the curb. One day you'll thank me. They were just shopping. They were casing, and you'll learn the difference if you stay long enough." He patted her shoulder. She flinched. He turned and walked toward the back office without looking back.
Up Madison, 10 minutes had passed. Solomon and Nina had not gone far. They were sitting on a wrought iron bench at the corner of 78th, across the street and one block up from Sterling and Vance. Nina had her phone out and was typing fast with both thumbs. Solomon was on a second call, head down, voice low.
The brass door of the boutique opened. Wade Greer stepped out. He looked left, then right. He saw them on the bench. He crossed the street. He stopped 2 ft from Nina's knees.
"I told you to stay off the property."
Solomon did not look up from his phone. Nina did not stop typing.
"This bench," Solomon said, "is municipal, but I appreciate the information."
Wade leaned down. His voice dropped to something uglier than what he'd used in the store, something he wouldn't have wanted the customers to hear. "I don't know what little game you think you're playing sitting here, but you picked the wrong store. You picked the wrong block, and you picked the wrong day. I see you on this corner in 20 minutes, I'm calling NYPD, and I'm telling them you're loitering with intent."
Nina lifted her eyes from her phone. She looked at him the way a prosecutor looks at a witness she has already decided to break. "Noted."