Guido nodded, but he was watching Stone closely to see if he was being had. “You think that’ll do it, huh?”

Stone bit his tongue. “It can’t hurt.”

“Okay. How can I get in touch with you?”

Stone gave Guido his cell phone number. “And you? Where are you staying?”

“I don’t expect to be here that long,” Guido said, and gave Stone his own cell phone number. “Listen,” he said, looking around as if he might be overheard. “My people are not going to feel good about shedding their hardware, you know?”

“Guido, nobody in Palm Beach is going to give you a hard time, let alone shoot at you—with the possible exception of the young lady. And if that were to happen, I think you’d be better off taking a round or two than shooting her. Her father would not think well of that.”

Guido nodded. “You got a point,” he said.

“One other thing,” Stone said. “What kind of cars are you driving?”

“Cadillacs,” Guido replied.

“You might rent something more anonymous.”

“Why? Don’t nobody drive Cadillacs in Palm Beach? I thought we’d fit right in.”

“I’m not thinking about the general public, I’m thinking about the young lady. I think it will be to your advantage if you see her before she sees you.”

Guido nodded slowly. “I get you,” he said.

“Another thing,” Stone said. “There’s going to be a wedding here on Sunday evening, starting at six o’clock. There’ll probably be a couple hundred people. If you haven’t found her by then, you should probably have your people here.”

“Yeah, okay, we can do that.”

“It’s going to mean renting or buying some evening clothes.”

“You mean, like, suits?”

“I mean, like, tuxedos. It’s going to be that kind of wedding.”

“Yeah, okay, I’ll look into that.”

“And tell your guys no pastel tuxedos or ruffled shirts. Keep it discreet.”

Guido looked at Stone closely. “You think we don’t know how to dress?”

“I thought we already covered that point, Guido. This is Palm Beach; it’s different.”

He nodded. “Different from Brooklyn.”

“Different from anywhere you’ve ever been before. Give me the names of your people, and I’ll get them on the guest list.”

Guido took a notebook from one of his many shirt pockets and jotted down some names, then ripped off the sheet and gave it to Stone.

Stone read them aloud: “Mr. Smith, Mr. Jones, Mr. Williams and Mr. Edwards?”

“I’m Mr. Edwards,” Guido said.

“Got it.” Stone put the piece of paper into his pocket and stood up. “Thanks for checking in, Guido. I appreciate your help with this.”

“I ain’t doing it for you,” Guido said, then walked away.