“I thought, if Theresa can take some more time off, I’d run down to Palm Beach and make sure the house is in order. It’s being painted in my absence.”

“I had a month of vacation time built up,” Theresa said, “but we’ve used ten days of it. How about I take another week?”

“We can get a lot of miles under our belt in a week,” Laurence said. “Stone has kindly offered us his house at the Arrington, in Los Angeles. We could start there, then maybe pop up to Napa and stock up on wines.”

“Sounds good,” Theresa said.

—

THEY LANDED at Palm Beach International and took a cab to Laurence’s father’s house. When they turned into the driveway, they found a police car parked there.

Laurence opened the door and put their bags in the hallway; he could hear voices. Hilda, the housekeeper, came out of the study. “Oh, Mr. Laurence, I’m so glad you’re here.”

“Why the police, Hilda?”

“Someone’s been in the house. I found your father’s desk ransacked.”

Laurence went into the study and found two detectives waiting. “Was anything taken?”

“I don’t think so,” Hilda said.

“It appears they were looking for something,” a cop offered.

“They were looking for me,” Laurence said. “A policeman friend warned me this might happen.”

“Why were they looking for you?”

“I came into some money, and it made the papers.”

“Ah,” the detective said, “you’re the Powerball guy.”

“Powerball?” Theresa asked.

“I’ll explain later.”

“What could they have found here?” a cop asked.

“Perhaps my address in England, but that’s about it.”

“You think the press is hunting you down?”

“That’s what I think.” He turned to Hilda. “Are the painters done?”

“Yes, yesterday, and they did a beautiful job, cleaned up after themselves, too. And by the way, I want to thank you for giving me your father’s car. I just love it.”

“I think that’s what he would have wanted,” he said.

Laurence thanked the cops for coming, and he and Hilda took their bags upstairs.

“Powerball?” Theresa said, when she had gone.

“That’s where the money came from,” he replied. “I hadn’t gotten around to telling you.”

“No reason why you should have,” she said.

“Dino warned me this might happen. I think we should go on to L.A. tomorrow. I don’t want to be seen here.”

“That’s fine with me.”

—

THEY LEFT the house early in the morning for the airport and took off half an hour later. They made Santa Fe, where they stopped for fuel, then continued to Los Angeles, landing at Santa Monica Airport, where Stone had sent an Arrington Bentley for them. Soon they were ensconced in a guest room in the handsome house.

Shortly afterward, Laurence’s cell phone rang. “Hello?”

“Laurence, it’s Mom. Something very odd is going on here.”

“What is it?”