During the fifteen minutes without interruption, Kettering pulled on a pair of latex gloves and gave the place a thorough tossing, opening drawers, checking behind paintings, looking under couch cushions, everything. He wouldn't say exactly what he was looking for. Mainly just whatever struck him as being out of place or out of sorts. Clues, I suppose you could say, but it wasn't that simple. He was keeping his mind open, and just looking for anything that might give him some useful information.<br/><br/>Oh, and the appointment book? He gave it a quick once over, looking to see if any pages had been torn out, then reading over the opened pages. Afterward, he slipped a spare sheet of scratch paper from his notepad into the appointment book to mark where it'd been opened to, and slipped it into his coat pocket.<br/><br/>Looking up at the knock, Kettering barked, "Then send 'em in for God's sake." He was currently going through the private bathroom's medicine cabinet.