Keith picked up the phone and called the Suffern post office. The postmaster, who identified himself as George Hiller, told him that the P.O. box in question had been rented out December 23rd.

“December twenty-third?” Keith repeated, remembering that the gala at the Bridges Hotel had been right before Christmas.

“Yes.”

“A credit card obtained fraudulently by a couple of jewel thieves was sent to that P.O. box in March,” Keith told Hiller.

“Not surprising,” Hiller responded.

“No, unfortunately it’s not.” Keith paused. “You haven’t heard about any jewel thefts up your way, have you?”

“Jewel thefts? No, nothing I can think of offhand, except maybe-”

“Except what?” Keith asked.

“Some jewelry shoplifted from a store near here at Christmas time. But a lot of shoplifting occurs over the holidays.”

“I’d like to hear about it anyway,” Keith said matter-of-factly.

“Okay,” Hiller said. “I’m just thinking back… This box was rented on the twenty-third of December… Wait a minute. The theft happened on that very day! We had a little Christmas party here at the post office after work. Then I drove over to the Nanuet mall to do Christmas shopping. My wife buys most of our gifts, or I should say all, except for what I buy her, and I always wait until the last minute. Every year I say I’m going to change, but I never do. Anyway, among other things I wanted to see if I could find a nice pair of earrings for her at Bam’s, a big department store at the mall. When I got there, the place was a madhouse with people like me running around. And some of the salesclerks at the jewelry counter were upset. Everyone was buzzing about a couple who had sauntered out of the store with an expensive necklace. The security guard almost caught them, but they got away.”

“Stores lose a lot of revenue around the holidays from shoplifting,” Keith said. “They do the best they can to discourage it, but it’s going to happen.”

“I know, but this necklace was worth ten thousand dollars.”

Ten thousand dollars sounded too minor league for people like the Does, Keith thought. But the theft had occurred on the very day they rented a P.O. box in a town nearby. “You say the store is called Bam’s?” he asked.

“Yes, Bam’s. December twenty-third. Definitely.” Hiller chuckled. “When I got home with the packages, my wife was relaxing by the fire, sipping eggnog and watching television. I was wet and cold, and started complaining about the long lines at the stores. She teased me and asked what the big rush was, that I had another entire shopping day before Christmas.”

“That’s when I get my shopping done,” Keith joked. “Listen, thanks so much.” A few minutes later he had Denny Corra, the head of security at Bam’s, on the line.

“A middle-aged couple stole the necklace,” Corra informed him. “I’ll be happy to get out the security tapes. There was nothing special about them. The saleswoman who showed them the necklace was very upset and said she’d understand if the store wanted to fire her. But management insisted she stay. She’s good at what she does. That day she’d been working twelve hours and was caught off guard.”

“When is she working again?” Keith asked. “I’d like to speak to her.”

“Let me check. I’ll call you back in a few minutes.”

Keith hung up and sat at his desk, deep in thought. Could the Does have bothered with such a small job? When the phone on his desk rang a few minutes later, he quickly grabbed it.

“She’s working from four until ten tonight,” Corra reported. “You can talk to her in my office and go over the tapes. I know she’d love to help in any way she can. Nothing would thrill her more than if those two were locked up.”

And nothing would thrill us more, Keith thought, than if those two were caught and turned out to be Jane and John Doe.

Regan and Jack returned to their rental car on the street outside Gerard’s office.

“I love you, Jack,” Regan said.

Jack smiled. As he was starting the car, he leaned over for a kiss from his bride. “Are you telling me that at this particular moment because-”

“You know exactly why I’m telling you right now. My mother always told me to find someone with a good disposition who will let things roll off his back.”

Jack’s eyes twinkled. “Regan, don’t you think it occurred to me that Gerard might have mentioned our plans to visit Ireland on the air? He’s a radio show host with a lot of time to fill every night.”

“You thought he might have talked about us on the air?” Regan asked incredulously. “I wish you’d said something.”

“Why? You didn’t.” Jack pulled out of their parking space, chuckling, obviously very pleased with himself.

Regan felt a moment of delirious happiness. She remembered what she had told Kit not long after meeting Jack: “He gets me, Kit.”

It was what they both had been looking for-that indefinable bond between two people that had nothing to do with shared interests, compatability ratings, and goals for retirement. Regan smiled to herself. She could just imagine bringing home the very wrong guy to Nora and Luke, someone who had no outwardly redeeming values, and telling them, “But he gets me.”

“Jack, can you imagine what Jane and John Doe would think if they found out we were tracking them down based on a decal from a road race?” Regan asked.

“Let’s hope exercise proves to be their undoing.”

One of Gerard’s coworkers had given them general directions to Westweg, the town where Brad and Linda Thompson had recently purchased a home. “It’s a little village,” he’d said. “You’d best stop in town and ask for specific directions. It gets very tricky down there. Some of the houses and cottages can be impossible to find if you don’t know the area.”

“Sounds like a place they’d want to live,” Jack had commented.

After an hour of driving on endless scenic country roads and passing far more cows than people, they found themselves on the tiny main street of Westweg.

“Slow down!” Regan cautioned. “We almost missed the whole town.”

Jack pulled over and turned off the ignition. It was completely quiet, except for the sound of a slight breeze blowing through the trees. Not a soul was in sight. “Okay,” Jack said, looking around. “We have our choice of the pub, the chemist, the butcher, or the general store.”

“The store has two tables by the window. Maybe we can get a cup of tea and a bit of gossip.”

“Let’s hope we’ll find someone who likes to share information as much as Gerard,” Jack said as he got out of the car.

Inside the small store, all the shelves were crammed with food and supplies. It seemed to have all the basics for survival, but if you wanted eighteen cereals to choose from, a trip to Galway would be in order.

A sturdy, round-faced woman with wavy auburn hair, pulled back in a ponytail that was losing its grip, greeted them warmly. She was wearing an apron over a fisherman’s sweater and jeans. “May I help you?” she asked, wiping her hands on her apron. “My husband and I were in the back unpacking boxes.”

“We were wondering if we could get a cup of tea,” Regan inquired.

“Of course. Have a seat. Anything to eat? A sandwich perhaps?”

Regan and Jack looked at each other. They were both hungry and wouldn’t have dinner for several more hours. Jack nodded.

“Sure.”

“Ham and cheese on homemade bread?”

“That sounds wonderful,” Regan said.

Jack and Regan sat at one of the tables. In no time the fortyish woman was hurrying from the back of the store, carrying sandwiches and a pot of tea. “You’re passing through here, are you?” she asked, plunking the plates down on the small table.

“We’re actually looking to speak to a couple of people who live in town,” Jack answered in a neutral tone.

“And who would that be?”

“Brad and Linda Thompson.”