I opened the dark mahogany storage chest at the foot of the closet shelf.

I laid the framed Cape Cod photo face down on the velvet lining, under a stack of clean linen blankets, and closed the lid.

I dropped the brass latch into place and pushed the small iron key deep into my coat pocket.

The marble counter at the Midtown bakery café smelled of fresh espresso and toasted almond croissants.

Daniel Harris sat in the far corner booth, his gray wool coat folded neatly on the mahogany bench next to two heavy blue folders.

He took off his gold-rimmed glasses, cleaned the thick lenses with a silk pocket square, and put them back on.