I looked from the address on the paper Judy had given me to the mansion set back from the road. The Moore’s house, a sprawling colonial on an even more sprawling lot on a cul-de-sac, was on the wealthy side of town. Cars—Mercedes, Porsches, BMWs, Jaguars—were lined up at the curb and in the driveway, and it was fortunate my moped was so compact. I found a small space where it fit perfectly, then turned off the engine, removed my helmet, and stowed it in the carrier behind the saddle.
The house was lit up, and the sound of a throbbing bass emanated from the open windows. No neighbors were close enough to be disturbed, but it wouldn’t have mattered if they were. Judy’s father knew the police commissioner and played poker weekly with the mayor.
I drew in a deep breath and marched up to the
