“You want anything else, you let me know, OK?” he called.
He got no reply because everybody was staring at the screen as McGrath
started inching his way through the tape. Every time he hit the
frame-advance button, a broad band of white snow scrolled down the
screen and unveiled a new picture, same aspect, same angle, same dim
monochrome gray, but the time code at the bottom jumped ahead ten
seconds. The third frame showed a woman behind the counter. Milosevic
touched the screen with his finger.
That’s the woman I spoke to,” he said.
McGrath nodded.
“Wide field of view,” he said. “You can see all the way from behind
the counter right out into the street.”
“Wide-angle lens on the camera,” Brogan said. “Like a fisheye sort of
thing. The owner can see everything. He can see the customers coming
in and out, and he can see if the help is fiddling the register.”
McGrath nodded again and trawled through Monday morning, ten seconds at
a time. Customers jumped in and out of shot. The woman behind the
counter jumped from side to side, fetching and carrying and ringing up
the payments. Outside, cars flashed in and out of view.
“Fast-forward to twelve o’clock,” Milosevic said. “This is taking way
too long.”
McGrath nodded and fiddled with the remote. The tape whirred forward.
He pressed stop and play and freeze and came up with four o’clock in
the afternoon.
“Shit,” he said.
He wound back and forward a couple of times and came up with eleven
forty-three and fifty seconds.
“Close as we’re going to get,” he said.
He kept his finger hard on the frame-advance button and the white snow
scrolled continuously down the screen. One hundred and fifty-seven
frames later, he stopped.
“There she is,” he said.
Milosevic and Brogan shouldered together for a closer look. The still
frame showed Holly Johnson on the far right of the picture. She was
outside, on the sidewalk, crutch in one hand, clothes on hangers in the
other. She was hauling the door open with a spare finger. The time in
the bottom left of the frame was stopped at ten minutes and ten seconds
past twelve noon.
“OK,” McGrath said quietly. “So let’s see.”
He hit the button and Holly jumped halfway over to the counter. Even
frozen on the misty monochrome screen her awkward posture was plain to
see. McGrath hit the button again and the snow rolled over and Holly
was at the counter. Ten seconds later the Korean woman was there with
her. Ten seconds after that, Holly had folded back a hem on one of her
suits and was showing the woman something. Probably the position of a
particular stain. The two women stayed like that for a couple of
minutes, heads together for twelve frames, jumping slightly from one
shot to the next. Then the Korean woman was gone and the clothes were
off the counter and Holly was standing alone for five frames. Fifty
seconds. Behind her on the left, a car nosed into shot on the second
frame and stayed there for the next three, parked at the kerb.
Then the woman was back with an armful of clean clothes in bags. She
was frozen in the act of laying them flat on the counter. Ten seconds
later she had torn five tags off the hangars. Ten seconds after that,
she had another four lined up next to the register.
“Nine outfits,” McGrath said.
That’s about right,” Milosevic said. “Five for work, Monday to Friday,
and I guess four for evening wear, right?”
“What about the weekend?” Brogan said. “Maybe it’s five for work, two
for evening wear and two at the weekend?”
“Probably wears jeans at the weekend,” Milosevic said. “Jeans and a
shirt. Just throws them in the machine, maybe.”
“God’s sake, does it matter?” McGrath said.
He pressed the button and the Korean woman’s fingers were caught
dancing over the register keys. The next two stills showed Holly
paying in cash and accepting a couple of dollars’ change.
“How much is all that costing her?” Brogan asked out loud.
“Nine garments?” Milosevic said. “Best part of fifty bucks a week,