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my mother received. “I didn’t even know she had internet, let alone an email address, so whoever is doing this to her knows an awful lot about her.” Then I told him about the car.
    “Did you get a make and model?”
    “Old. Black or dark blue. Something big and American. A Lincoln, maybe. Front-end damage. And the first three letters of the license plate are F-P-L. Is that enough for you to track him down?”
    “Maybe. You’ve got to work on your mother, Finley,” he said in all sincerity. “Say we catch the guy, then what? We take his word that he’ll never do it again? He needs to be turned over to the cops.”
    “She’s mortified that the contents of that tape will become public. Is it bad?” As soon as I asked the question I wanted to stick my fingers in my ears and start chanting la-la-la-la.
    “It’s graphic,” he answered. “And for the record, watching your mother is not how I wanted to get to know her.”
    “That has such a creep factor.”
    “Get some sleep,” he advised. “I’ll go to the resort in the morning.”
    “I’ll hit my mother’s place at lunch and get the envelope and see if the blackmailer has sent anything else.”
    *
    My mother was still sleeping when I left for work. Maybe because I’d left earlier than normal. I think it was avoidance. I didn’t want awkward chitchat while I drank my pot of coffee. I did jot down a good morning note and left her the alarm code so she could come and go as she pleased.
    It was a beautiful May morning, without a cloud in sight. The temperature hovered around seventy-five and the gentlest of breezes caused the palm fronds to rustle slightly. I was also wearing a new dress. New clothes always put me in a good mood. Okay, so new was a bit of a stretch. I’d picked up the Adrianna Papell fit and flare dress at a thrift store. The original owner had taken immaculate care of the dress, so I grabbed it up at a cool sixty-five percent off. I wore Tory Burch wedge espadrilles and a simple cuff bracelet on my wrist. Finally, I slipped on a Kuber watch and I was good to go.
    Dane, Lieberman and Caprelli is a four-story building right off Clematis Street. Easy access to the courthouse and of importance to me, the restaurants at City Place. I parked next to Vain Dane’s banana yellow Hummer, grabbed my purse and my tote with my mother’s laptop inside and headed for the door.
    It was only eight-forty but Maudlin Margaret was at her station behind the horse shoe-shaped desk in the center of the lobby. She glanced up at me over her reading glasses and as usual, seemed unhappy to see me. “Morning,” I said with a complete lack of sincerity. “Messages?”
    “Here.” She slid them across the desk. “Mr. Caprelli wants to see you first thing.”
    It would be third thing, I acknowledged as I stepped into the elevator. I went to the third floor. When the doors blinked open, I stepped out into a large space with lots and lots of computer equipment. Our IT department did more than just fix machine glitches. They also created spreadsheets, document blow-ups and many other kinds of litigation evidence and support. It was like our personal Kinkos. After scanning the room, I found Gus and walked over to his cubicle.
    “Hi,” I said as I rested my tote on the edge of his desk.
    He blushed. “Hello.”
    “I need a favor,” I explained as I took my mother’s computer out of the bag. “I need you to back trace an ISP address on an email. Can you do it?”
    “In my sleep.”
    I gave him my mother’s password – diamonds – thanked him and went back to the elevator. I went down to the second floor and into my office, flipping light switches as I went to my desk.
    As usual, I’d set-up the coffee pot the night before, so all I had to do was hit the on button. While it brewed, I placed my purse in a drawer, looked at my messages – nothing urgent – and wiggled the mouse to bring my computer out of hibernation.
    After pouring a cup of coffee, I