The lieutenant looked toward the floor.
"Yes."
"That's what needs to be documented."
He nodded slowly.
I placed the judicial paperwork on his desk.
"And we have another matter."
He looked down.
I watched his face as he read.
At first, concentration.
Then irritation.
Then something closer to concern.
He turned the second page.
Then the third.
Finally, he looked up.
"You're here for the South Harbor case?"
"Among other related records."
He swallowed.
"That investigation was closed."
"Some criminal charges were dismissed. The property-accounting questions were not resolved."
Whitaker leaned back.
"I was told the discrepancy had been explained."
"By whom?"
He hesitated.
"Sergeant Keller."
I made a note.
"And who reviewed his explanation?"
Whitaker's eyes narrowed.
"I believe Deputy Chief Mercer's office."
I nodded.
"That matches the record."
He looked at me.
"Then what's the problem?"
I opened my briefcase.
Removed copies of the conflicting receipts.
Placed them side by side.
"The original inventory lists $217,400."
Whitaker looked down.
"The booking record lists $18,250."
He said nothing.
"Those amounts differ by $199,150."
The lieutenant folded his arms.
"We've been over this."
I looked at him.
"Then help me understand it."
He stared.
I continued.
"Which officer physically counted the money after it arrived at the precinct?"
Whitaker looked toward the documents.
"That would've been property control."
"Which employee?"
He hesitated.
"I don't recall."
"Who approved the amended total?"
"I'd have to check."
"Where is the original count sheet?"
Another pause.
"We can look for it."
I nodded.
"Good."
Then I placed a photograph of the physical ledger on the desk.
"Where is page 187?"
Whitaker's expression changed.
Only slightly.
But I saw it.
His shoulders stiffened.
His eyes moved toward the office door.
Then back to me.
"Page 187?"
"Yes."
He looked down.
"Damaged during the records move."
"Where is the damage report?"
He hesitated.
"I'm not sure."
"Where is the replacement copy?"
Silence.
I leaned forward.
"Lieutenant, the missing page falls between two intact pages in a bound evidence ledger. The official explanation says it was damaged during a move, but the surviving photographs suggest it was physically removed."
Whitaker stared.
I continued.
"I need to examine the original book."
For several seconds, he said nothing.
Then he reached for his telephone.
I watched his hand.
He pressed a button.
Waited.
Then spoke.
"Get me property control."
A pause.
"Yes. Immediately."
He hung up.
Then looked toward me.
"Someone will bring the ledger."
I nodded.
"Thank you."
But when the property clerk arrived twenty minutes later, she brought an empty plastic storage container.