Jack made a pretense of fiddling around in the trunk of his car to see if the black HEMI belonged to Maggie’s hacker. When he saw a tall, lanky guy with a ponytail hoofing toward Maggie, he sighed in relief. Maggie had it going on. Still he waited, even though Ted was with Maggie, to be sure the lanky guy was Maggie’s hacker.

Jack closed the trunk. He shouted out a second good night before he made his way to his own front door. Maggie and Ted didn’t return the greeting, but both waved airily. The minute Jack saw Ted shake the lanky guy’s hand, Jack unlocked his door. Harry almost killed him getting inside.

Three doors away, Maggie unlocked her own door, pushed it open partway, and turned to Abner. Maggie hated how jittery her voice sounded when she asked him, “Did you get anything?”

Abner Tookus looked at Maggie in stupefied amazement. He slapped at his forehead in mock indignation. “Did I just hear you ask me if I got anything? Do birds fly? Does the sun come up every morning? I should leave right now and let you muck around in the mud puddle you seem to be in. Of course I got it. What I should say is I got what there was to get. Are we going to stand out here so your neighbors can hear this discussion, or do you want to invite me in?” He waved his hand to indicate two late-night dog walkers who were looking at them as they passed the house.

Maggie opened the door the rest of the way. Ted followed her in, and, knowing the drill, disappeared. Tookus was Maggie’s snitch, and the unwritten rule was there should never be an audience when business was discussed.

Abner tossed a thick envelope onto the coffee table. “You want to look through it first, or do you want the summary now?”

Abner Tookus, like Maggie, had a passion for all things sweet. He looked at the array of candies that Maggie liked to munch on, sitting in little bowls on the table. He scooped up a handful of M&Ms and popped them into his mouth. He reached for a second handful, only to find that the dish was empty. He looked accusingly at Maggie. Guests should be catered to. Maggie opened a drawer in the coffee table and dumped a fresh bag of candies into the silver dish. “Talk!” she ordered.

“The bank’s security sucks. Any Tom, Dick, or Harry can access anything if you have a Social Security number. Or if you know how to get in the back door of the program. I know the guy who wrote the bank’s software. I printed everything out for you. My guy closed the door, so nothing leads back to me or him. That’s high-tech talk, Maggie, so don’t worry if you understand it or not. That’s just another way of saying your ass, my ass, and his ass are covered.