“The main drive off the boulevard, and a service gate behind the pool house.”

“The service gate is chain-link with a keypad.

The landscaper’s code opens it at six a.m.”

Michael looked up from the map.

“You’ve been through it.”

“Six years’ worth of Easter dinners.”

Richard laid his keys on the corner of the map, near the little square marked as the laundry room, and left them there.

Michael turned his wrist and read his watch, the way he always did at the top of the hour, even though it was five after.